Hostage

Two

Terror held Allison in its hard, tight, fist paralyzing her body and suffocating her lungs.

"Please," she pleaded breathlessly, "don't hurt me."

The blaring music drowned out her voice making it impossible for those surrounding to hear her pleas.

"Then don't make me," the man retorted sharply, pushing the weapon deeper into her side.

"Take my wallet."

She slid the clutch purse slowly towards him on the sticky bar countertop.

A devious laugh escaped his lips and he smirked, "Oh honey, that's not quite the amount of money I'm looking for."

Confusion swept over her, "I-I don't have a lot of-"

The gunman saw her bewilderment and interupted, "You don't know..."

Allison's face was blank. Know what?

He started, "See, your daddy's a bad man, and he owes a lot of people a lot of money, including me."

Dad?

"But more of that later, how's about we go for a walk?"

He moved behind her so the the metal was pressed against her back. A large hand swept her golden locks to one side. Goosebumps rose on her arms when a finger grazed her neck.

"Just go where I tell you and I won't have to hurt you. After all," he paused, "it would be a shame to damage something this fine."

Allison felt bile rise in the back of her throat under this man's perverted stare, but nodded wordlessly.

"Good girl, now walk towards that exit over there, and don't say a word to anyone.

Swallowing, she stepped in the direction of the red emergency exit sign, her legs feeling weak beneath her. They weaved through the throng of people unnoticed the darkness helping to conceal the true events unfolding. When they'd reached reached the door, he directed her through it and the two slipped away discretely in the night.

As soon at the hot, Houston air met Allison's skin, she was also greeted with another set of rough hands. Before she had a chance to view her second captor, her hands were bound behind her back with a tight zip-tie digging into her porcelain skin and a cloth was tied around her eyes, trapping her in darkness.

"Please..." The victim begged, her voice dripping in fear and desperation.

A finger was placed on her lips, and the voice of the first man sounded, "Shh, don't be afraid. We're not animals, we won't hurt you... unless you give us a reason to."

Allison's breath was shallow and uneven, and she could feel her heart beating rapidly, pulsing throughout her body. She was trapped in a horrible nightmare and couldn't seem to wake up. Tears welled in her pale blue eyes and rolled down her face.

A new voice sounded from behind her, with an unmistakeable southern twang.

"Don't you cry, babydoll," the menacing, gravely voice ordered, "we'll take real good care of 'ya..."

A shiver ran up her spine.

"Kaine, bring her to the car."

"Yes, sir," the country voice complied.

A second later, she was being shoved forward roughly. Her legs trembled with each forced step taken towards her unknown fate. Thoughts of yelling, screaming out for help from these evil men, crossed her mind, but as if her thoughts were read, the metal tip of a handgun was pressed to her back once more.

"And don't you be givin' me no funny business," the monster leading her threatened.

The sound of a trunk popping pierced through the quiet night. Allison wondered how far away they were from the club, from her friends, from her life.

"In 'ya go sweet tits."

The bound girl was ushered into the back of the car, having no choice but to comply.

"Hope you're comfortable, it's gonna be a long ride."

With that, the trunk door closed with a slam, complete darkness swallowing her.