Kidnapped by 1D

Emily skipped along the sidewalk, red, orange, and yellow leaves crackling underfoot as the fall breeze rustled her blonde locks. She breathed in the scent of leaves, grass, and chocolate brown trees in the October air. She turned right, walking into her cul-de-sac. She passed by her neighbors old brick house, with a large apple tree planted out by the sidewalk, and crisp brown leaves and tiny twigs littering her yard like fallen debree.

Mrs. Ferguson lived there: The kind old lady with light gray hair, a liking for strawberry pink blouses, and blueberry muffins. Emily smiled as she noticed the little brown poodle, bagel, chilling on the back of a soft brown couch, pushed up against the open window with chipping brown paint.

She lived in a nice cul-de-sac, in a nice area. The yards were kept up, the roads were paved quite nicely with little to no potholes, the dogs barked happily at the mailmen when they pulled up to the houses, little white trucks rumbling like an angry animal. The town appeared innocent enough, with it's glistening grass and towering 3 story suburban houses. But like I said, appeared...

The 15 year old freshman at RoseDale High, fit her small silver key into the lock on her front door. She expected it to click into place, but instead the door swung inward, and she realized her mother must be home already. She expected to hear a cheery: "Hello!How was your day?" Or to smell something baking, like glazed cinnamon rolls sprinkled with sugar, or chocolate chip cookies cooling on the stovetop. Because that was what perfect family's looked like. That was what they did in the movies. And that's what her family was. Perfect. Or so they seemed.

Instead of all this, she heard a loud crash coming from upstairs. "Mom?" She called out. She tossed her backpack onto the glass table by the front door, sprinting up the stairs. She heard another loud thud, and shampoo bottles rolling around in the bathroom. She pushed the door open, and stepped inside the spacious room. The normal crystal clean floor tiles were slicked with shampoo, Dove soap, and little bits of deodorant drowning in the puddles. She gingerly stepped inside, and the door slammed shut behind her.

She screamed,but was instantly cut off by a black leather glove covering her open mouth. She bit down, hard. The attacker cursed, and she made a run for it. She was grabbed by the waist and pinned down to the floor. She felt the cold shampoo and conditioner soaking through her red shirt and black leggings. She flailed her arms, kicked, and bit. But it was no use. Her eyes were wide with fear as she looked up at her kidnapper. He was wearing a black ski mask with matching skinny jeans and a big sweatshirt. "Stop moving!" He commanded. She aimed a well placed kick at his chest, but he only laughed and pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs, tightening them around her tiny wrists. He had a slight accent, but she couldn't figure out what. Suddenly four other boys dressed the same as him ran into the bathroom. "Good work, Harry." One with very big muscles and tattoos said to him. "Thanks." Said "Harry."

Harry got up, releasing her from the tile. She struggled to her feet while screaming bloody murder, but soon she was slammed against the wall, her red Converses dangling a foot above the floor. The boys glared at her as they collected the soap bottles, cleaning up the mess. "The more time, the better." One growled, staring angrily at her. She froze. Were they going to kill her? "You brought this on yourself." Harry said, tying a black handkerchief around her eyes and gagging her with the other one. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! "Let's go. Quickly." Said one of the guys, a tuft of blonde hair poking out from under his pulled up hoodie and ski mask. Harry threw her over his shoulder and carried her down the stairs. She wiggled around, trying to break free. Suddenly she smelled something funny under her nose, and passed out.