STOLEN

Chapter 9

*Author's note*
You guys, thank you! MY Wattpad BLEW UP yesterday, all thanks to Dinkybieber, you're a gem hun!
I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter! Again THANK YOU! And welcome to all my new followers and readers!
See you again on Tuesday!

-

Chelsea's POV:

Half way asleep I cuddled my cheek against a soft fabric. I slowly started to wake up, but I didn't open my eyes. I simply enjoyed the fabric against my cheek as I rubbed it against my skin. A little smile formed on my face. It felt just like my duvet at home. I inhaled deeply expecting the smell of home. The fresh, girly smell of my room. Even the smell of my dad making coffee in the kitchen. But instead, I was met with a cologne like smell that I didn't know. There were only traces of the cologne left on the soft fabric, meaning it must've been a while since it was sprayed on.

I opened my eyes carefully as I held onto the soft fabric with my hands. I noticed the fabric was a black sweatshirt as it laid casually over my body like a duvet. Who put that here? I sit up holding the sweater out in front of me. Maybe it was Andrew's, and he had come in to give it to me last night.

I yawned and stretched my arms over my head. I slept well last night after having something to eat, thanks to Andrew. I look a little around in the room. The window was still closed and the heater was still on, but it didn't heat much. The water bottle on the floor was almost empty. I sighed.

Nobody is coming to get me.

I looked to the door, but was met with the sight of a young man sitting against it. He was sleeping. It was the dominant guy. His dirty-blonde hair slicked back messily and lips were slightly parted. He looked at ease when he was sleeping, and not dangerous at all, but knowing what he was capable of, I was still scared of him. How long has he been sitting there? When did he come in here and why? I looked on the black sweater again as I noticed the guy was only wearing a t-shirt. Is it his sweater? Did he give it to me while I was asleep?

My pulse was pounding. Everywhere in my body I could feel that pounding sensation under my skin as I leaned closer to the sleeping man in front of me. I reached out slightly, almost touching him. I watched as my fingertips gently touched the fabric of his t-shirt. I pulled my hand to me in a quick movement as he moved a little bit. My heart was in my throat. God knows what he'd do to me if I touched him and he found out.

After calming down, I decided to try again. I got on my knees and leaned closer to him once more. He reeked of strong liquor, and the smell was burning in my nose. It made me almost nauseous.

I watched my finger tips attentively as they approached his body. I noticed a corner of a tattoo on his chest which was exposed by his v-neck. Without knowing why, I reached out for it. All I heard was my heavy breath and my pounding heart beating. I felt the soft fabric of his shirt touch the very tips of my fingers. I tried tugging gently at the shirt, but it didn't work, so I placed my fingers right at the hem, careful not to touch his skin, and pulled gently down, watching a tiny bit more of the tattoo reveal itself before me.

I gasped in fright as a strong hand suddenly grabbed my wrist and prevented me from doing anything more. My gaze locked on the hand wrapped around my sore wrist for a second as I whimpered a slight bit and switched my attention to him. His cold, hard eyes pierced into mine like wildfire. His jaw was tightly clenched and his lips were pressed together. My breathing had stopped as he watched me. He held onto my wrist firmly as he looked me straight in the eye. He didn't flinch, even the slightest bit.

"Don't ever... touch me." He whispered in a raspy, dark, serious tone. He released my hand and got on his feet. He grabbed the sweater on the mattress and quickly pulled it over his head. It is his. Why did he give it to me? "Thank you for borrowing me your sweater," I murmured silently and looked at him slightly out the corner of my eye while he opened the door to the room. "Don't get used to it." He snarled and slammed the door behind him.

I looked at the closed door for a while as I rubbed my wrists. They were still a little sore even though it was some days ago since they were released from the ropes. There were still bruises here and there, but it was no where near as bad as when they were first taken off.

Why is he like this? One second he's... kind almost. Human. He gave me a mattress to sleep on, he let me go to the bathroom, he lent me his sweater while I was asleep and the next second he's back to being the man that makes me fear for my life. His mood-swings were impossible to keep track of.

-

I watched as the sun slowly set behind the trees in the distance. The sky was painted in beautiful, warm orange and pink colors and I just stood there and took in the beauty before my eyes. A small smile formed on my lips as I admired the skies. It was so beautiful. Who would've thought I'd get to appreciate something so simple during such bad times. The sun danced down behind the trees. I could still slightly discern the yellow light behind the trees as it slowly disappeared and would leave the forests pitch black.

All I saw outside was a paved road. Not much of it was visible, because the sun was slowly setting so it was getting dark outside, and beside from the small driveway leading to the house, the road was hidden behind pine-trees as far as the eye could see.

My mind wandered off to the guy who held me here. The guy who took me. I shouldn't be, but I was trying to understand him and his mood swings so I could avoid them in the best way possible. But I literally knew nothing about him. All I knew was that he had a temper, and a lot of it. He didn't like being touched, and his eyes... his dark, brown eyes were cold and empty.

I wondered if they were empty because he was? Maybe he didn't have anyone to care for, or didn't have anyone who cared for him. I remember when my mother first left my dad. Sometimes I'd see that same look in my father's eyes. That empty look.

I felt bad for him. The dominant guy with the empty, dark eyes, driven by anger.