Sold // Harry Styles

Chapter 2

My brain finally starts to process my current situation—very slowly.  I kick and scream at the murderers, though everything is muffled by a hand that’s clasped tightly over my mouth.  Nothing I do makes him loosen his grip around me, not even finger biting or kicking, something I've tried on multiple occasions.

Another guy grasps my arms, yanking them behind my back before tying them together firmly with rope.  His nails dig deep into my skin, almost as if it pierces through my bone—like a sharp needle prying through my flesh.  Not even my cries of agony make the murderer loosen his grip on me.

Downstairs, the woman continues to scream and claw at the walls, her voice pitched in a high tone that sounds inhumanely.  But her warnings of evacuation don't do me any good because my futile protests only result in a thick tape pressed against my lips to conceal my cries of terror.

I’m frozen in a state of confusion.  My mind and body has shut down.  No emotions overpower another.  I’m too scared to cry.  I’m too scared to think.  Everything seems as though it’s in fast forward except for my brain that works at a dawdling speed.  My bones feel lifeless, my mind is static, and my determination of escaping has departed.

“Let’s go,” I hear someone say.  His voice sends shivers up my spine.

I bounce around on the man’s shoulder as he runs.  He throws open a door as he escapes through the back of the building. I squint as my eyes adjust to the bright light in contrast to the dark I was once engulfed in.  He throws me inside a car and before I can look at the kidnapper, a black bag is draped over my head.  Something sharp pinches my skin, right on my neck, making me wince in pain.

My eyes grow heavy and my body slouches against the window, unable to hold my body upright.  Everything starts spinning and then I finally close my eyes, finally allowing the drowsiness to overtake my body--surrendering myself to the future with criminals and the unknown, not fully knowing if I'll ever wake up, but not really caring at the same time.

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My head throbs and feels like it’s swirling in a foggy cloud by the time I wake up.  Everything feels so surreal.

Am I dead?

I take in my surroundings.  The walls are dark and the room is gloomy and small.  There’s only a bed and a window that is clearly locked with a key.  There’s no point in trying to escape.

What have I done?

All of this is my entire fault.  I’ve heard about all the stories that are related to Eastside Academy and I’ve heard the rumors about the old abandoned school house—the strange disappearances and weird noises that escape the clutches of the building.  They say those who go into the school never return, most likely because they were raped, or kidnapped, or killed.

All of the stories are so disparate of each other that it’s impossible to know the truth.  They all end the same though—the people who go in, never come back out.

All I wanted was to be with my deceased family and Eastside Academy seemed to be my only way of release since I couldn’t bring myself to do anything with my own hands.

Everything seems so foolish and stupid now.

I climbed over the yellow caution tape.  I ignored the rumors that spread around Harwood.  I trespassed through private property—these people had every right to take me away.

And now it seems as though I’ll be learning the true meaning behind the haunted Eastside Academy.  I’m still alive and breathing, though I don’t know how long that’s going to last.