What You Need (Lauren/You)

Chpt. 7: Chemical Prisoner

Lauren POV

Thankfully, I woke up the next day without that goddamned alarm. Un-thankfully, I had absolutely no idea where I was. I was sitting in a chair, I could feel that. My hands were tied behind my back, and my ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't say anything, there was gag in my mouth.

I had come to the conclusion that I was going to die in this room. Probably at the hands of the psycho that Y/N and I in the disgusting basement. I felt strangely calm. There wasn't really a point in freaking out anymore, right? I was probably going to die in here and there was no way in hell for me to get out of this, so I may as well just accept it. Accept that this was my fate. Accept that this was what was meant to happen to me.

I heard a soft click, then heavy footsteps walking towards me.

"Lauren Michelle Jauregui Morgado." I heard a deep voice say.

Was my full name really necessary?

He paused. I didn't know why, I couldn't respond.

"You're probably wondering where you are right now." His voice was strong and steady.

I felt him standing over me. I got a whiff of his cologne which actually smelled really nice. I might've considered complimenting him on it, if he hadn't kidnapped me.

I felt his hand behind my head, then a blindfold fell around my neck. I had a clear view of where I was. I was in a bathroom. The man was no shorter than six feet. He had blonde, shaggy hair and blue eyes.

He kneeled down to my level. He reached out to me, and took the gag out of my mouth.

"Wow," he muttered, staring into my eyes. This made me extremely uncomfortable, but I couldn't really do much about it. "You really do have amazing eyes." He complimented.

"Thank y--" I cut myself off before finishing my reply. Now definitely wasn't the time for accepting compliments.

He smirked a little before brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. I tried to jerk my head away from his touch. It only made him tug on my hair, which forced me to look back at him.

"You have beautiful hair, too." He added, walking around the chair to stand behind me. "Is brown your natural colour?"

"Ye-Yes." I stuttered out quietly. He hummed in response.

"How long did it take for you to grow it out this long?" He questioned. I could feel his hands playing with my hair.

"Uhm. . . I don't know. A couple years maybe."

"Such a shame." He said bluntly. "You know, Lauren," He began, "You're a very beautiful girl. You fit the image almost perfectly: Green eyes, pale skin. . ." He continued on to list off most of my features. Except for my hair. "Your hair is the only thing wrong." He finished.

"I like my hair." I said, mindlessly.

He tugged on my hair. "It just simply won't do."

In one swift motion, he turned my chair around so I was facing him again. There was a big mirror on the wall behind him. There was also a sink and some stuff scattered across the counter.

"But, it's nothing to worry about. It's an easy fix."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. What does he mean by fix?

He turned to fix some things on the counter before turning back to me. Only this time, he had a pair of scissors in hand and a sick grin on his face.