Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter seventeen

Chloe

     I thought I was going to die.

How many times had I imagined this moment—shrouded in darkness, trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from? But tonight, the fear felt different, more real. The cold metal of a gun pressed against my head, again, the finality of it all didn't seem so far away. It was as though the very air around me had conspired to choke out any hope I had left.

Curiosity had been my curse, drawing me deeper into dangerous waters. But tonight, the water was rising, and I was drowning.

It wasn't Damien's doing this time, at least not directly. But in a way, it was still because of him. I had no choice but to run into the arms of someone dangerously twisted.

Dean's eyes, those usual brown eyes that had a certain gleam of mischief, were now darkened with something far colder. His fingers were gentle at first, almost tender, as he ran the front of the gun along my skin. I shivered, a whimper escaping before I could stop it. My heart was pounding in my chest, but he simply stepped back, the gun still trained on me, but not for long.

I thought for a moment I might be free.

But that was a foolish hope.

The cloth came next, roughly tied around my eyes, blotting out the world in a suffocating shroud of blackness. A second piece of cloth was stuffed into my mouth, the fibers rough against my lips, and then the ropes. My hands were bound behind my back with a coarse, biting rope, and I was completely at their mercy. The van smelled of cigarettes, the pungent scent of smoke clinging to the air, filling my lungs with each shallow breath. I coughed, the toxins stinging my throat, but there was no escape, no relief.

I could feel the presence of someone behind me, their breath hot against my neck, the tension in the air thickening. I couldn't tell who it was, but I knew they were there. Watching me. Waiting.

"We've arrived, doll," a familiar voice murmured in my ear. Dean.

The van's doors creaked open, and I felt the rush of cool air on my skin, the cigarette smoke dissipating for a moment. But it wasn't enough to clear the heaviness in my chest. Before I could even process what was happening, two sets of hands gripped me by the shoulders and arms, hauling me roughly out of my seat. I struggled, desperate to break free, to fight back against the men holding me, but my hands were tied, and I was blind. There was nothing I could do.

I kicked and thrashed, but it was pointless.

A rough shove sent me stumbling, and I felt myself being dragged down what felt like a hallway, the floor beneath me shifting. "Watch your step," a gruff voice warned, and I instinctively stretched out a foot, testing the ground for stairs. I wasn't sure if I was going to fall or not, but I had no choice but to trust my instincts.

My heart raced as I tried to steady myself, knowing full well that if I slipped, they wouldn't bother to catch me.

Finally, the sound of footsteps ceased, and I heard the faint creak of a door opening. Another push sent me stumbling again, this time into a cold, hard surface that felt like a wall. I was yanked around, the ropes scraping against my wrists, before I felt the blessed relief of them loosening. My hands were freed, and I flexed my fingers, trying to bring the blood back into them, relief flooding through me.

But there was no time for relief.

The cloth over my mouth was torn away, and I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to fill my lungs with air. It was too little, too late. The sharp sting of my raw throat was enough to make me gasp, but I couldn't focus on that. Not with the danger looming so close.