Trouble Maker (Hiro Hamada X Reader)

Chapter Twenty Eight: Him

Ahem, before reading the chapter. . .

SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. I'VE BEEN SUPER BUSY WITH LIFE I SWEAR I ALWAYS THINK OF YOU. ALSO, I'VE BEEN GOING OUT WITH MY FICTIONAL BOYFRIENDS IN DATES (Toshiro Hitsugaya and Ciel Phantomhive. . .) (yes I am two timing them)

ALSO, I was thinking of doing a Jacob Portman (Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children) X Reader, drabbles and one full story. You likey? You better. Or else.
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The first thing you took immediate notice was the excruciating pain piercing your skull and the cold metallic taste of your very own blood drawn from your tongue. You were quite aware of unforgiving coldness of the pavement underneath your figure and the rough surface of the wall behind you, causing more discomfort and aggravation attack you. As you squirmed and struggled in your position, you attempted to flutter open your tired and seemingly burdening eyelids but your attempts were futile. You were finally able to move your fingers before you manage to make your exhausted and sore body move an inch.

I will be damned if I ever think this was my room.

The first thing that greeted you the moment you regained enough strength to open your eyes was an endless abyss of darkness and nothingness with the silent cold breeze coming from the unknown. You gazed down and searched for then faint outline of your hands, something that appears whenever darkness is present but saw nothing but black. You involuntarily shuddered as yet another cold breeze came gracing your form, making you tuck your hands under your armpits and desperately trying to spark some warmth into your system.

Silence ensued for more than you favored. As it prevailed longer, you swore you could clearly hear and follow the synchronized movements of your heartbeat and your hollowed breathing. You raised your head and forced your weakening body to stand up but your knees wobbled, causing you to fall back down on your bum with a silent yelp.

Why is it so dark? Where am I?

You practically burned your brain cells as you tried to recall the events before you found yourself in an endless abyss of silence and isolation but somehow, nothing sparked your memories. It was like someone had erased any trace of your memory and it made you extremely frustrated and angry, both at yourself and at the unknown person at fault. The exhaustion that had settled inside you grew larger by the passing seconds but you were successfully able to stay conscious and miraculously managed to stand up.

Without any warning or whatsoever, your heart made one giant leap when something; a metal door, you presume, suddenly slammed open with an audible clank as it hit the bricked walls. Blinding light easily penetrated the thick darkness within the room and you had to squint your eyes until you got used to the suddenly foreign sensation of heat. In the light was a slim silhouette of a woman who you immediately predicted as the daughter of the infamous Robert Callaghan. Her heels clicked and clacked against the rough pavement as she approached your awaiting figure, the soft noise echoing throughout the compacted room you were concealed in.

Abigail Callaghan, who else?

Said woman stepped through the light, sporting her sneering and triumphant smirk. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at you, almost like she was testing your ability to stay patient and calm. Though little did she know you were running out of what they call patience to the point where you can break out inside the compacted metal bar cell you were currently concealed in and make her really regret even breathing the same air as you. "You're finally awake, thank goodness." Abigail ventures, her signature smirk broadening as she gazed down at your weakening figure.