Unbound - A Synacky Fan Fiction

Unbound - A Synacky Fan Fiction Part 3

-          Scarlett’s POV –

I woke up in some weird place. A small, concrete box of a room was what came to mind. There was a window, but it was securely locked and impossible to see out of. I appeared to be on a bed of some kind, an old wooden one. There was nothing else in the room.

My stomach growled impatiently. I tried to think back – how did I get here? I was in the alleyway…I turned around…someone was there…that must be how I’d gotten here.

But where was ‘here’?

Fear was rising in my throat, but I felt slightly too depressed to care. How long would it be before somebody noticed my disappearance? My parents wouldn’t care…they’d be glad…I had no friends…Zacky wasn’t at home much, so he wouldn’t know…

Zacky…

I missed Zacky, missed my big teddy bear of a brother. If he was here, everything would be okay, I knew that. Even when I was a kid, he’d been the best big brother there ever was. I had needed him, relied on him more than he knew. And now…he was gone.

I checked my back pocket for my phone. Gone, obviously. So was my little razorblade. The fact that someone had searched me made me squirm. Other people made me nervous. I had never had a boyfriend, never really known what the whole ‘love’ deal was all about. I’d had my guitars, my big brother, and my razorblade. That pretty much made my life.

I started crying. Not loudly or anything, but quietly and discreetly. I missed Zacky and I missed my home. I wanted to go home. How long I’d been in this weird place, I had no idea. But I really wanted to go home.

My eyes fell on the window. It’s always worth a shot.

I slid off the bed and started fiddling with the lock. It was big, bulky, needing a key. If I had a paperclip or something…but I didn’t. The window was that fancy frosted glass stuff you couldn’t see out of, and besides, someone had but a large piece of wood on the outside of the window. I couldn’t see out at all, and I was willing to bet we were multiple stories up.

I crossed the room to the door. I tried the handle, to find that it opened.

The door opened without me pulling it and the stranger stepped into the room.

I flung myself back, into the corner, in an attempt to flatten myself against the wall. He chuckled, locking the door.

He was tall, taller than Zacky. Probably around Zacky’s age, too. His hair was deep brown and messily spiked in all directions. His eyes were a cocoa brown colour, sparkling with wry humour. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He was carrying a plate with a lid on it.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, trying to sound fearless. I think it nearly worked.

He chuckled again, a low, musical sound. “I’m Brian. Nice to meet you, Scarlett.”

My teeth clenched in fear. “How do you know my name?”

He set the tray down on the bed. “I’m good that way. You want some food?”

“Are you the one that brought me here?”

He looked up at me and smiled radiantly. How can this guy do that? “Eat,” he assured me, “You want to keep your strength up.”

“Why?” I spat, “Will I need it?”

He clapped his hands slightly, as if understanding something. “Right. You’re worried I’ve poisoned your food.” He pulled the cover off the tray, revealing three pieces of bread spread with something that looked like Nutella. He leaned over and took a bite out of a slice. Then he took a sip of the water. He smiled widely. “Not poisoned.”