I shivered in fear as the voices got closer and closer until the door opened. Several feet came stomping down the stairs and coming toward me until they stop right behind my chair. From the sounds of their feet, it seems like there are more than three men this time. I couldn't tell how many men exactly but as someone grabbed the back of my chair and spun me around, I realized how much danger I'm actually in.
There are five men and two women altogether, each holding some sort of knife, bat or gun. I cringe at the thought of what they would do to me.
Just in case I ever get out, I scan each person's face enough to remember what they look like to describe to the police.
Each of them has scars on their faces and whatever is visible of their arms and legs. Most of them have hair so greasy, you would've thought they've never bathed before. Others looked like they took a shower yesterday or the day before. All of their clothes look too new to belong to them, which makes it seem like they stole the clothes or robbed a bank and bought the clothes.
With each person I finish looking over, the more I feel like I'm going to hate It here. That is, until my dull gray-blue eyes met with beautiful baby blue eyes. This man was shorter than the rest of them, but still taller than me by a lot. His face has no visible scarring and holds a look of mischief.
His muscles look to be bigger than anyone else's, which implies that he's high up in the gang, I would guess second in command but I could be wrong.
He smirks after noticing I was staring at him. The man I think to be the leader, which is the first guy that I saw before I was knocked out, speaks up and knocks me out of my thoughts.
"Everyone, this is our new playtoy. Her name is..."
He let's his sentence fall silent as he realizes he doesn't know my name, so he turns to me expectantly.
"Well?" He says getting impatient.
I growl out. "None of your business!"
The man grunts. "Whatever."
He points over to beautiful blue eyes and says, "This is Louis, he will be your guide while you're here..."
YOU ARE READING
My (not-so) superman
Teen FictionWalking alone on a cold, bitter night in Woodstock isn't the best thing to do for a 17 year old. Even if you just fought with your mom. The freaky mist unnaturally crawling across the damp road while very new gas guzzlers pass through; and creepy me...
