Revenge (Louis Tomlinson Love Story - Sequel to Just One Look)

Chapter 9 - Escape Plan

I LOVE THE NUMBER 9. This is a particularly LOOONG Chappie... maybe those two things are linked somehow?? :D KAY BYE GUYS :D Enjoy xx

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Unknown POV

Reward?

Why a reward? Are people searching for me? Hunting for me?

Do I already have enemies in hell?

Did I do something wrong? Something bad? Something people are disgusted about, like existing? Wasting oxygen?

Do they want to skin me and use my bones as toothpicks and furniture?

Well, I'm dead now anyways. Who cares, right? Go ahead and take my skeleton. I don't want to pick a fight - not here.

Blue Eyes. That doesn't seem like a very intimidating name, making me all the more frightened. I know my logic seems extremely irrational, but let me complete my theory. It must be a trick - in reality, Blue Eyes is a burly, muscular man with a deep-set face, sharp gleaming teeth and hands of steel.

At least, that's the only image my mind was letting me conjure at that moment.

Will he kill me? Will I have to die? Again?

Can I even still die? I cringed at how pitiful and childish I was sounding. Didn't I just ask myself this, anyway? I mentally shook my head, biting my lip. Of course I can't die. I'm. Already. Dead.

Blue Eyes may not be able to kill me, but torture is still an option... and he could go on forever, because I can no longer fade from the pain. I'm stuck here, suffering, for all eternity, because I can no longer die.

There's no escape plan in hell.

"What do you want from me?" I snarled, still perched in the trunk of the unmoving car. It's damn hot back here, and I feel like I'm suffocating. I can obviously still feel pain, even if I can't die.

Great. Torturing me is going to be fun for the boss and his cronies, like this dickface that's staring back at me with a furious expression.

"Stop talking, scum. And show some respect, because I can point my gun at you and shoot before you can fucking blink," he snapped back, releasing a rumbling chuckle from my throat. What a hypocrite - I won't show him any respect if he's going to treat me like a fucking pile of shit.

"Oh, you wouldn't dare shoot me, because you still need me for something," I replied smugly, nodding in triumph when he muttered under his breath and glared at me. "I'm not fucking stupid, man."

"Well, I wouldn't really call you smart, fucknuts. Why are you here, locked in my trunk, huh? Tell me, smartass," he retorted smoothly, making me grumble. Maybe I'm not so much of a genius.

Disgusted. I'm stupid - I've made people feel this way about me. Dis - gus - ted.

"Who's Blue Eyes?" I asked, changing the subject altogether. A headache formed in my temples, the overpowering memories racing through my mind and muddling up my thoughts. Shouldn't I be a little less blunt around this lunatic? He could, after all, make me suffer a lot more than I did before I died.

"Like I'm going to fucking tell you," he snarled, spit showering through the interior of the car. "You'll find out soon enough anyways. Now shut the fuck up, sit in the trunk and don't attract any god damn attention or you can test your theory about me not sticking a bullet in you."

I shivered, his words shutting down the rebellious, courageous side of me. He noticed my change of confidence and cackled, turning back around to face the front. "Watching you suffer is gonna be fucking marvelous," he muttered, crossing his arms across his chest.