Amelia surveyed her surroundings. She was in a medium-sized 3 meter by 3 meter room. No windows. She looked to the ceiling. No doors to the attic. The only door was to her left, slightly cracked open. She could hear the captor softly blowing puffs of smoke just outside the door.
Amelia stood behind the door and readied herself for the next part. She took a deep breath in, then let out the loudest, most earpiercing scream she possibly could.
The door flew open and she caught it as the man rushed in. He was facing away from her, looking around the room frantically. She grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back with just enough force to properly hurt him, but not break his arm. He cried out in pain. She shoved him to the floor, still holding his weak, pathetic arm. She picked up her foot and rammed her 15 cm stiletto heel into a pressure point between his shoulderblades. The man whimpered. She held out her right hand, the other holding his squirming arm.
"Phone." She hissed.
YOU ARE READING
Hostage
ActionAmelia Harris comes from a wealthy family. She knows her way around all 234 shades of MAC lipsticks and can run a marathon in heels. She goes to Ridgemond High, an elite public school south of London. She has an array of boys falling at her perfectl...
