Demonic Angels

Chapter 3

Dinah's P.O.V.

I got back on my bike and drove back towards the ghetto neighborhood. The sun had submerged itself deep into darkness by now. All I had to guide myself through the glass and pot holes now were the streetlights, but they were spaced far apart so I just had to pray I wouldn't run over any glass.

Just as I neared the corner, a van sped up right in front of me and I drove straight into it. I hadn't had enough of a warning to do anything else.

The bike threw me off vigorously and I earned myself a second gash on my head. A pulsing headache entered and took over my mind and body. The taste of asphalt and blood dancing in my tongue was a new experience I could do without. My movements became slow and unsteady. I didn't have enough strength to pick myself up and apologize or pick up my bike.

A man slid the side door open and jumped out. A black ski mask hiding his features. Why would he-

I didn't have to say sorry. I had to run, scream, get away somehow. This was no accident.

I tried to get off of the ground, but my throbbing headache wouldn't give me enough strength to. I opened my mouth to let out a cry for help, but the man's gloved hand ended the chance of that abruptly.

Within seconds of being tossed in the van I had duct tape on my mouth, rope on my hands and legs, and a burlap sack around my head. There was definetly more than one man in here. I kicked and thrashed around for a good minute as the car sped away before a fist punched me square in my stomach.

"Knock it off, bitch!"

I heaved and stopped my thrashing movements because I couldn't handle another hit like that. I laid on the ground for about half an hour like that in a big sweaty mess with blood and asphalt still lingering in my mouth before the van stopped.

A man dragged me out of the van and dropped me on the hard ground. But this ground wasn't asphalt, it was made of rocks. Jagged rocks that were tasting the blood from my back and biting into my flesh.

I stopped focusing on the pain for a second. If I could hear or smell something, then i might be able to find out where I am.

I could hear the waves crashing crashing along with that bittersweet odor of saltwater. We were on one of the docks. My father used to take me to one with a massivs red lighthouse with Sarah and Uncle Joey when I was little. It has to be this port, there were no others on the island this close to where they took me. There's always people in that lighthouse. People that can help me if I really am where I think I am.

One man cut the ropes on my feet and took the burlap sack off my head. He picked me up forcefully and made me stand. I looked around to see it was a built man standing by me and three husky men still in the van. The light house was far away, but it's all that I have left. A couple big ships were lined up on the coast, but they were farther and usually empty.

All I could do now was try to achieve one last resort, so I kicked him right in the junk and ran. I ran straight for the lighthouse. I ran to a chance at a life where I wasn't going to be cut up by so sick, twisted pedophiles in a van. I was sure that the husky men were built for brute strength rather than speed. They were too big to try to run, but they weren't too small to pick me up and haul me to whatever death they chose.

The built man, however, got up running after a moment of holding his junk in pain. The rope binding my hands made it hard for me to run, and the muscle guy was right in my tail.

In one big jump, he was on top of me with my face buried in the dirt. He turned me over and launched his fists into my face, one after another. Each one pushing my vision into blackness.

I was caught. I'm finished. I'm done. Unnconscious.

A/N:
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The image is of Normani
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