Never Take the Brown Bomber Jacket

In a Different Perspective...

*America’s POV*

            Don’t let her out of your sight.  That’s what Britain had said.  But that didn’t include when Holly was going to the bathroom, right?  I mean, did he expect me to stand outside the door?  No way!  That would be so creepy.

            Why was I just remembering this five minutes after she told me she was going to the bathroom?  I had already ordered our drinks (and Iced White Chocolate Mocha and a…Caramel Frappuccino?  I hope I got that right…) and was sitting down at a table for two, waiting.

            Holly hadn’t come back yet.  I was starting to worry.  My hero senses were tingling.  I checked the clock again and saw that another five minutes had passed.  I knew that girls took longer in the bathroom, but not ten minutes long.  Something was wrong.

            I got up, leaving the drinks, and went to where I saw her walk off to.  I knocked on the girl’s door (awkward) and an old lady yelled something.  Then I checked the men’s room, just in case, but no one was in there.  The only other place she could’ve gone was the back exit door, but why would she go outside?

            Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped outside, making sure not to close it behind me.  No one was out here.

            I was about to go back in when something on the ground glinted in the sunlight, catching my eye.  I bent down and picked it up.

            It was Holly’s cell phone.

            “Oh, shit,” I said aloud.  This wasn’t good.  But…  I spun around in a circle.  There was nowhere for her to have gone to!  This area was closed in with chain-link fences stopping at least two feet above my head.   I groaned in frustration and went back inside.  Maybe she was playing a trick on me and when I got back I would find Holly sitting at the table, drinking her Frappuccino.

            As much as I wanted to believe that, I knew it wasn’t true.  Holly was gone; kidnapped, probably.  Oh, Britain was so going to kill me…

            I ran outside and got into the car, speeding back to the safe house.  Once I was there I didn’t even bother turning the car off, I just sprinted and busted the door open.

            England came down two seconds later, looking startled.  “What the bloody hell?” he yelled.

            “Holly’s gone!”

- - -

*Holly’s POV*

            I opened my eyes to darkness.  I was laying down on some kind of table, and my head was throbbing painfully.  I groaned and tried to lift my hand up to rub my head, but found that it was restrained.  In fact, all my limbs were tied down to the table.  I began to hyperventilate.

            “Help!” I shouted, trying to struggle against the metal cuffs.  “Is anybody there?  Help me!”

            Silence.  There was no sound what-so-ever.  It was deafening.  I was going to go insane if it stayed like this.

            “Somebody help me!” I tried yelling again.  I called for help until my voice was hoarse.  Nobody was coming to save me.

            Frustration welled up inside of me and tears formed.  I wanted to wipe them away, but knew that I couldn’t.  I hated how I only cried when I was frustrated at something.  It sucked.  This sucked.