Dark Angel // Austin Mahone *REWRITING*

Chapter 2: Concrete

My eyes fluttered, the cold concrete beneath me making my skin feel as though it was burning. My wrists were chained together, with the chain connected to the paint-chipped wall. The air wasn't any warmer than the concrete, and due to my current lack of clothing, I was shivering. A piece of duck-tape covered my mouth, causing me to have to breathe out of my nose. Everything was dry, and I was severely dehydrated.

I could smell the mold developing on the wood around the small windows. Little light showed through them, but I could tell it was currently daylight. A few lightbulbs glowed above me as someone flipped on the switch on the stairs, causing my pupils to quickly constrict and make me have to look down. As I heard someone approaching me, my eyes stayed glued to the floor, currently covered in blue spots from looking directly into the bulbs.

A strong scent of cologne whiffed into my dry nose, and I could tell that the person moving before me was a man. His black shoes squeaked on the concrete as he halted directly in front of me. I could hear him chuckle before he knelt down to my level.

My brown eyes met with cold, hazel ones. The man had a strong jawline, faded lines of purple bruises cascading down his neck past his burgundy shirt. His brown, curly hair was fluffed and chaotic on his head. The dark circles under his eyes told me he hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks.

Another chuckle left his lips as his hand reached up, grabbing my chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting it from side to side. Light tears fell down my face as he examined me. I was in nothing but a black bra and underwear, and God knows who changed me out of my original lingerie.

The man could tell I was fearful, so his lips raised into a smirk as he finished looking me over and stood back up. He turned, facing another man I didn't know was in the room and nodded. The man followed his lead with a nod of his own before taking a few steps towards him. I couldn't see their exchange as the man who I had met eyes with had his back turned to me, covering the other man completely. All I saw was him pull out his wallet, shuffle through it, pull something out, and hand it to the other man.

The other man gave him another nod, thanking him for whatever he had handed over, and made his way upstairs. The hazel-eyed man turned back towards me, giving me a look I didn't quite understand and made his own way up the creaky steps.

I was in total disarray from the gathering and couldn't wrap my head around the situation. The chains on my wrists were beginning to pinch my skin, making them bleed. From what I could tell, hours were passing according to the sun turning from a bright yellow to light pink. I called out for help a few times, only to have the tape muffle my cries. The only thing I could do was stare at the cold basement around me.

A line of ants was traveling a few feet from my left, and it was the most entertaining thing I could find to do except cry and plead for my own life at God, who wasn't responding. My stomach was beginning to growl at this point, and I could feel my skin cracking from the solidly, freezing air.

On the verge of another screaming session, the door at the top of the stairs opened and closed behind someone. The hazel-eyed man walked down the steps, a plate of food in his hand. I could hear the silverware tapping against the plate with every step he made towards me. His feet landed on the concrete floor, reaching over and grabbing a single chair from a poker table under one of the windows, sliding it in front of me. Taking a seat, he handed me the plate of food. I stared at it. It was seasoned chicken and some weird side I couldn't make out. It didn't look too horrible if I was being honest. I looked up at him just as he gripped my face again, quickly ripping off the duck-tape from my mouth.

"Ouch!" I screeched, gripping the plate tightly from the pain.

He took hold of the plate again, picking up the fork and stabbing a few pieces of chicken before holding it to my mouth. I panicked, my eyes widening at the man as I realized he was actually feeding me himself. Before I could say anything, he stabbed the tip of the fork between my lips and into my mouth, letting the chicken slide onto my tongue before he slid the fork out alone.

The process continued for about fifteen minutes as I chewed the food he fed me, swallowing it before he got impatient and went to feed me again. Once the plate was cleaned off as much as possible, he stood up. He placed the now dirty plate on the chair he was sitting on and grabbed a roll of duck-tape from somewhere on the other side of the staircase. He ripped off a piece before placing it over my mouth, sliding it over my lips with his thumb to make sure it was secure. For the first time, he spoke.

"I am surprised you haven't pulled it off yet." He said while standing up, leaning backward and stretching. "Usually I would have to send them back by now because of all of the screaming. Either you are an idiot, or I've actually hit the jackpot this time."

He laughed at his own words, shaking his head and picking up the plate before sliding the chair back in its original place under the table. Just as he was about to walk back upstairs, he turned around. "I'll be back with water, don't get any ideas." He smirked as he made his way up.