Kidnap, torture, kill, repeat. That's how this serial killer rolls. So, what does it take for one boy to escape his horrifying captivity?
It takes guts!
Best friends, Kevin and Josh, are trying to juggle college classes while finding a way to launch...
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Kevin's POV:
"Who's there!" douchebag shouted.
"Hahahahaha..."
Was I losing my mind? I was laughing at an angry douchebag, who was freaking out once he figured out my plan. It was never about killing him, although that would've been an awesome bonus. It wasn't about just escaping. My plan was to distract him long enough for the police to get here without his knowledge. To catch him and make him pay for everything.
And now, I couldn't stop laughing after I heard the noise of footsteps crushing the broken pieces of the bottle I used for the Molotov cocktail. I got thrilled with joy once help finally came.
You lost! That was what I thought until I heard the response:
"It's over. Put your hands up and release the boy."
It was Josh! I softly gasped and closed my mouth. A look of concern took over my face. I gazed at douchebag, fearfully. I hoped he wouldn't recognize Josh's voice. Maybe he never heard his voice! His twisted grin said otherwise.
"Is that you, Josh?" he said, grinning at me.
Suddenly, he got closer to me and pulled the pillow from under my head. I blinked in surprise. He got up and went to the door, grabbing the gun from his back. It was my turn to freak out.
"Josh, watch out!" I tried to warn him, but douchebag threw the pillow instantly and opened fire while stepping out of the room.
I screamed, "Nooo!"
The shooting stopped, but then I heard Josh groaning and Douchbag grunting. He was beating Josh.
I violently shook the cuffs and screamed with all my frustration, "You fucking bastard! Don't hurt him! Leave him alone!" I screamed 'til my voice cracked.
I muttered to myself, "Stupid jerk. Stupid. Stupid..."
What the fuck is Josh doing here? Where the hell are the cops?
My frustration cooled down when I I remembered the extra paperclip I hid under my other sleeve. I tried to reach it, but my hands were pretty numb. I turned my head up to take a look at my glass-punctured, bleeding hands.
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