((Hello guys and girls. Let me just start off by saying thank you for the comments on this story. I wasn't expecting such an audience. I'm glad that you all like it and I'll try to update more.))
((Edited! Added a few things in that I thought it needed and fixed a few spelling errors.))
Experiencing this amount of heart-pounding fear was something I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy. In the hours of being tortured, tormented, and terrorized, I had started to feel like giving up. I mean, when you're punched and slapped enough times, you start to break. Especially after you get your stomach cut open and sewed back up. Somehow, I had fought those urges to give into my captors, and also miraculously forgotten of my stitched-up stomach, but while the seconds ticked by on the clock of my beaten and bruised pride, I was finding it harder and harder to keep confidence in the thought of going home. I wasn't going home. I had to accept that, but it wasn't as easy as it sounded.
With a man threatening to staple my eyelids to my forehead, I had been forced to give up my hopes of being freed, and had to open my eyes to see my captors faces. Such a simple action was turned into a dreadful thought.
Raising my head, I opened my eyes, mustering as much of my pride and courage as I had left, and I looked at the man standing in front of me. He had a ski mask on, the ones with the holes for the mouth and eyes, and I saw a devilish grin show beneath the mans mask as his brown eyes stared into mine. I suddenly felt nauseous. The man grabbed me by my chin and turned my head from side to side, checking out my profile on each side.
Letting out an audible growl, I kept my eyes locked on his while he turned my head. The mans grin widened as he heard me become angry. "Ooh. What's wrong, kitty?" He asked in a mocking tone. He grabbed my by my hair and jerked my head back while pressing the blade against my throat. "Little bitch think she's tough?" He asked while his eyes narrowed and his grin disappeared. "You're not." He stated matter-of-factly as he raised his head and glared at me, looking for signs of submission as he slammed the knife down and stuck it into the arm rest of the chair. I flinched and he noticed.
Having had enough, I looked at the man while he got close to my face, and I spat at his mouth. It was my turn to grin while I watched the man angrily wipe his mouth and spit on the floor with an audible groan of disgust.
"No wonder I'm here." I managed to say, somehow getting the courage to speak up. "I must be your new girlfriend, because I know no one wants to hear you bitch like this." I looked up at my captor as he glared down at me, anger growing and becoming noticeable in his expression. "You seem to do it a lot." I finished with my small reply, but it seemed to be enough to tick the man off. Having the blindfold removed must have sparked up a new form of courage in me, because I was feeling better and more confident than before.
As soon as I had finished my sentence, the man raised his hand back to smack me, and I could see anger in his eyes. I flinched away out of instinct, and lowered my head in a desperate attempt to protect my face from further abuse. He hesitated for a moment, lowered his hand slowly, and I peeked up at him to see his grin had returned. He grabbed at his ski mask and tore it off before I could close my eyes again. And in that second, my fate was sealed. I knew I wouldn't see the light of day any time soon.
The man looked slim, wearing a black skin tight shirt, showing off his six pack and his face was clean shaven, a three-o-clock shadow barely visible but still there. He had a scar on his left cheek, looking like it was given to him in a knife fight. I strongly believed that was where it had come from, based on this mans personality and his tendency to be very angry. His black hair was spiked up in front, with a buzz cut in the back. He looked to be in his twenties. Perhaps 22 or 23.
