Lockdown

Beginning

I didn't know that when I woke up this morning, that I would feel the true definition of fear.
                      I woke up, groggy from staying up too late, slipping on a heavy sweater to help fight against the cold of the outside. It was my freshmen year of high school, having been enrolled long enough to not be as nervous as I was in the beginning of the year. I slipped on some jeans, and stared at myself in my body mirror for a while. My blonde hair was a mess, so long it went past my waist. My eyes looked like two pools of sapphire logged into my skull, my dark brown freckles looking like the ashes of a burnt out fire. I scoffed at my pudgy body shape and threw my hair into a messy pony tail, stuffing my school books into my backpack before leaving my room.
"Ready," I called out to my dad, who was waiting impatiently by the front door.
"You need to stop taking so much time," he grumbled as we left the house and got into his car, speeding towards school. My dad was OCD about time, so I felt bad for upsetting him. In ten minutes we had arrived at the school, as I started to get out he kissed my cheek.
"Love you, see you at four o'clock sharp." he said fast, and I nodded my head as I closed the car door, walking into the school. After going to my locker and walking into my first hour class, I sat down, staring at the wall as I waited for the bell to ring, Mrs. Clam doing a crossword puzzle at her desk like usual. Slowly other half awake teens filed into her classroom, sitting in their assigned seats. The bell rung, and class started. Then halfway during class, Mrs. Clam was babbling about the Roman empire when a handful of gunshots were heard, distant screaming heard. Everyone froze, our teacher, a frail seventy-nine year old went pale. We heard the beginning of the code red drill over the speakers, but it was stopped abruptly, silence before a voice that was automatically deemed attractive by anyone with a brain spoke.
"Teachers, in the halls. Students, stay in the rooms or else you will not be spared. Call the police and this entire building will explode the moment I hear or see any sign of the cops. Thank you." Everyone looked at each other in awe, or was it fear. We didn't know who this guy was, or what he was capable of. Some girls started to cry, guys starting to shake uncontrollably. Was he going to come in here and slaughter us all? Mrs. Clam crossed her arms, looking at the class
"Now, I've been teaching for fifty years and I'm not going to let someone harm my class." The class looked at their drop of hope, a little wrinkled old lady with a pink shawl and blouse, her hair up in a bun with a pink bow attached. We were screwed. I stood up, looking through the small glass square in our door to see men in all black carrying various types of guns, patrolling the hallways.
"He has guys patrolling the halls with weapons," I announced, striking even more fear into everyone. After a twenty minutes we heard noises coming from the classroom beside us. Was that... moaning? Dear god what was happening. I paced back and forth until our door was opened, the lock picked in a blink of an eye. A tall handsome man in a suit walked in, with slicked back black hair and high cheekbones. He looked like a model. His eyes were dark brown, so dark they seemed black. He scanned the room, two men standing at each of his sides with guns. He stopped at Mrs. Clam, who was shaking and holding up a sharpened pencil in defense.
"Oh darling, I didn't want it to come to this. You should of followed my instructions." he walked over to her, taking the pencil out of her hand like candy from a baby. She was frozen. He stood next to her, and had to be at least six foot three. He faced her, then glanced back at the class with a perfect smile, his hands caressing her cheeks, before grabbing hold of her head, and in one quick move snapped her neck. The class screamed in horror, as she fell to the ground, blood pouring out of her mouth as she choked on her own blood before becoming lifeless. Her milky blue eyes still open.
"Dispose of her." he said wiping his hands on his pants.
"Boys, that corner, girls, the one opposite." he said and walked to the boys as one of the men dragged Mrs. Clam out of the room, streaking the floor with blood. I stood with the rest of the girls as the man talked to the boys in a whisper, watching in confusion as some of their expressions turned from frightened to almost excited. Then he turned around
"Girls, form a sideways line so we can see all of your gorgeous faces." he said with a smirk, and we all did as we were told. After we were all still the boys each walked up to a girl, facing her, some of them looking scared to death and others like they'd just won the lottery. Mark Spencer walked up in front of me, with that douchey smirk on his face. I squinted my eyes at him, wondering what was going on.
"Girls, remove your shirt. You listen to your boy, if he wants more off you do so. Unless you would rather come with me." he said with an insane grin. I watched in horror as girls started to take their shirts off, one by one, some boys feeling them up immediately, others pulling their clothes off like wild animals.
"Go on, do it," Mark growled, and I took off my sweater. He instantly groped me, feeling like a whore. Why was I letting him do this? I yelped when he slipped his other hand down the front of my pants. I glanced over, and stared in shock as I watch Maranda Emerson getting fucked my Timmy Kent. Once I felt his fingers start to get closer I slapped him, kicking him in the crotch, pulling away.
"Oh my, my, looks like I've gotten myself a treat." I went pale as the man pulled me to his side by my bra strap. I had no idea what was coming for me. He left the room, moaning and such being heard from behind the doors once they were closed.
"Please don't kill me, please, I'm beg---" "Oh I'm not going to do that, I'm going to put you to good use." he said as he continued to pull me at his side as he walked. He made it to the principal's office which was in the basement, with no windows at all. He opened the door, blood splattered against the wall. Mr. Shunny slumped in his chair, a gaping hole in the center of his forehead. I swallowed my scream, yelping as I was tossed in a corner.
"Stay," he barked, walking to the desk, which had a couple of briefcases on top. He opened one, and I was too low on the ground to see what he was grabbing. I froze when he stood up straight, a leather collar and leash in his hands. "Don't you try anything, stay still," he said and I listened, in fear of what else he had. He fastened the collar, locking it on my neck with a mini padlock, attaching the leash to it, jerking it towards him. I scowled when he looked at my chest, jerking me even more, causing my body to shake.
"Good girl. If I catch you standing like normal I will make you kiss my feet for mercy," he snapped before tying the leash to a pipe that was sticking out of the wall, tying some knot I'd never seen before, and I was a girl scout for eight years. Then he left, closing the door and locking it behind him. Immediately I stood up, but choked as I was pulled down by the leash. I pulled and tugged, it must've been made of real leather, because I started to chew on it and it wouldn't do anything. This guy must have some kind of fetish. He obviously didn't care about life either. Great, my rebellious ass had gotten me leashed to a pipe, a crazy man with an animal-foreplay fetish claiming me as if I was a stray dog.