The Right Thing To Do (Markiplier's Priority Sequel)

20.

My cheeks were pinched by the cold winter air, painting them into a faint rosy colour, exposing a deathly image of winter on my face. My lips were tinted a lifeless shade of purple. It gave me the sudden realization that maybe going outside isn't so safe anymore. My fingers were stiff; stubborn to move while they fought against the rough, freezing breath of winter. The howls of cold wind in the distance mimicked the sound of Jack Frost cackling at my suffering. Oh, how I loathe the evil gifts of winter. I hurriedly hiked my feet up the first flight of stairs, with desperate desire to find a higher ground to see everyone, but was met with an endless hall peering over more of the concrete palace. I finally hit me that this building is a lot bigger than I expected, and we are more than likely to be accompanied by people we do not expect.

I knew something wasn't right when I felt the jump in my gut. This floor was entirely open, nothing like the previous. It had walls, but the rooms were bigger. I suddenly felt alone, but not, at the same time. I could feel the tickle on my back of a following presence behind me, but no matter where I looked, I couldn't find a living soul besides me.

"Jack!!" My voice cracked as I cried out in panic. I started my hurried course down the hall, with an anxious feeling of a dark shadow heavily creeping on top of my old footsteps. By the edge of building, where I came to a forced halt, a wall had been demolished leaving remains of the wall crumbled into rubble. The winter winds blew into me, brushing my skin with the feeling of freezing to death.

"JACK!" I screamed out. I had a terrible feeling about the silence of the others, and I feared it was only a matter of time before I was be found by someone besides my friends. I began to whimper in the back of my throat, not wanting to shed a tear, as it'd freeze to my skin.

"Jack... help..."

I knew something was wrong the way everyone disappeared so quickly, and how I, shouting for them, couldn't hear a response. I could feel eyes creeping me up and down, and that's when I knew I wasn't alone anymore. I was too late to respond though, I felt hands slap over my throat and mouth and pulled me back. Both my wrists were locked tight between strong fingers and my mouth covered by the other hand. I tried to kick, and throw my body violently against the grip, but I just felt myself being carried across the hall. The heels of my feet dragged along, limp like a lifeless corpse. They brought me back down the stairs, and into the bone biting, dead hall. Finally I was thrown through a doorway, onto the floor. Behind me echoed the sound of a heavy plank being shifted in sync with a heavy grunt. Whatever light was left over had completely disappeared behind it.

As I turned around, the figure already stood above me and with his hands leading first to my wrist then the other swooping around my waist gracefully as if I weighed nothing. The room was almost pitch black and left me clueless and blind. I could only feel everything they were doing to me. The rough, cold fingers gripped onto me tightly, forcing me up in the air, then into a old, wobbling wooden chair. I forced myself to fight against them, but their leg violently dug a heel into my lap and pushed me against the chair. While they forcefully held my left hand down on the arm of the chair, I clawed viciously at them with my free arm. My scratches did nothing, I felt an overwhelming helpless feeling of defeat surface inside of me.

The sound of peeling duct tape filled the room before I felt the sticky plaster wrap my wrist to the chair. Around, and around, and around the tape went. The tight grip of the tape pushed on my veins painfully, cutting off any blood I had reaching them, causing pain to pulsate through my bruising wrist. I heard it rip. Now my other hand was next. I kept trying to pull it away, flailing it in the air. This time, the person snatched my wrist without a moment of hesitation. Their face was set directly in front of mine while they leaned forward in an attempt to control me. A warning growl of frustration escaped their lips. Their heel dug into my leg, forcefully pushing down on my muscles, leaving a sharp surge of agony. My hand was thrown down into the chair, which followed by overly aggressive taping. On my feet, only a zip tag was needed. I fought against his grip once again, but he was one step ahead of me each time. I kept trying to pull away, hoping that somehow my hands would break free, but my limbs were stuck to the chair and I was immobile. Once they finished with me they stepped back. They let me sit in agony as terrifying thoughts of abuse sped through my head.

"I'd gag you, but that isn't fair to you."

There came the voice: Jason's voice. My face was already soaked in tears. A sense of relief overcame me as it wasn't a psychopathic stranger who decided to brutally murder me, but I felt my stomach drop and my heart fall through it entirely. This meant nothing but trouble. I should've expected him to here after discovering the room, even if I didn't see him.