Is This Really Necessary? : A Kidnapped Story

Chapter 1: Perfect... So Far

"Morning," my roomate Farrah said, as she walked into the living room to see me still on my laptop. It was 3 A.M., and I had to finish this paper before my one o'clock literature class. "Still up I see," she said walking to the fridge in a plum purple, colored silk house coat, my silk house coat to be exact.

"Just a few more sentences Fare and I...unlike you will be done with my homework," I told her looking up from my computer screen to see her drinking from the juice carton. "Use a glass will ya. You're not the only person that lives here you know," I say going back to typing about my feelings towards Patrick Süskind's, PERFUME: The Story of a Murder.

"Whatever you say, Miss. Funblock," she says with an obvious hint of sarcasm. "Besides I'm the only one living, you're too busy being the perfect little robot student you are," she stated while poring her orange juice in a glass. "Life isn't gonna wait forever for you to start living it you know. You might wanna start before it's too late,"

With that she was gone, back to her room and me back to finishing my task at hand. After a good 15 minutes of revision and fixing errors I decided to call it a night and vacated upstairs to my bedroom. It was to late and I feared if I got in the shower I would fall asleep half way thorough cleaning myself so I just changed into some gray sweats and my I <3 NEWYORK tank top, and face planted into my bed not even thinking about getting under the covers before falling into an unescapable deep sleep.

As usual I was having another one of my long, drawn out dreams about "the mystery guy." I decided to call him that since I was having these dreams about him basically everynight, for 3 months now, and I could never seem to catch his name before he ended up making me beg him for release.

This guy would always be lerking in a dark room, or one with little to no lighting for some reason. Which means as you guessed I can never seem to make out his full face. Maybe because of the lighting, or the sheer factor that he never wore anything more than a suit that caressed his fit frame like a second skin. The only thing about him that I could tell you were anything to do with his hypnotizing eyes.

His dark blue, with just a splash of grey eyes that were good enough to make me burn with desire, all on their own. Tonight "the mystery guy" was following me into the parking garage of my part time job, over on 2nd Street. It was late and I was the last person to leave the office, which wasn't a surprise to me.

Walking across the almost empty garage to my car, I heard another pair of feet that obviously weren't mine. I turned around fast though to see no one. After looking around for a few seconds, I slowly turned around on my heels and continued walking.

This time around, there was no disturbance to be heard. In fact, the only sound I heard now was the dim light at the top of the ceiling flickering about.

With a few more strides, I was at my car door. Desperately trying to open the door to no avail. It wasn't until I looked in the drivers seat, was when I realized that I had locked my keys in my car.

Then as if on cue "the mystery guy" appeared in front of me. Only, for the first time since I started having dreams about him I could see his face. It was as if I was looking into the face of an angel when I saw his whole face. I mean just from the look of his eyes I could tell his face was gonna be on some Hollywood actor level. But in all honesty, not one of them could even compare to him. He won hands down.

Anyway, he walked over to me and asked if I needed help.

"No thanks. I got it," I replied.

"You sure? I mean those keys look pretty stuck. I could give you a ride, and call a tow truck for you. If you would like that, that is." As usual I can never resist his requests.

"Sure, that would be quite lovely actually," I stated.

"Excellent then. Follow me to my car. My name's Angus by the way," he said taking my hand.

"Thanks Angus! You have no idea how long I would have been here waiting," I went on blabbing.

Once we were on the road Angus started making conversation. He asked me where I was from and what I wanted to do with my life. My responses were short and simple. Then it was my turn to ask questions.

"So where are you from," I asked slouching back in my seat.

"St. Petersburg, Russia," he responded in a deep Russian baritone.

"I guess that explains the voice."

"Da, Americans usually just consider it rubbish," he says glancing at me before looking back to the road. "So am I going right or left?"

"Neither keep straight until you see the Quick Trip."

"Oh so you live near Slake Bridge," he guesses with a light laugh.

"Yeah a old cottage style, two level house. Its just me and my roommate Farrah."

'I live about two blocks away on Ashby Circle," he adds.

"What do you mean you stay on Ashby Circle? The only thing on Ashby Circle is the estate owned by some old man named Polvich."

"I prefer the term adult considering I'm only 29, and maybe I didn't mention my whole name. Angus Polvich, hence the big AP on the gate."

"No fucking way," I said before stiring in my sleep at the sound of something dropping on my floor.

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All right guys, I finally updated the book. I will be making by weekly updates as of now so remember to enjoy the story and share it with your friends.