Grimm Fantasies: Little Red [FIRST DRAFT]

Always

Guys, guys, guys one more chapter.

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  Gerald left the room immediately after stabbing Haven. His goons followed him without question or comment. He left Haven to deal with the pain of having a knife in his leg,

  This was not okay,

  Ever,

  Who leaves a knife in someone, seriously?

  Haven whimpered and bit his lip and couldn’t bear to look at the blood leaking from the wound, he wasn’t good with blood. It reminded him of something dark that was just out of his grasp of fully remembering. Not to mention it made him nauseous.

  The worst part of all was Hunter had no idea where Haven was and could very well be going nuts looking for him. Haven hated feeling defenseless, tied to a chair no less. With the duct tape and ropes keeping his hands bound to the arm rests of the wooden chair and his legs tied to the chair’s front legs kept him immobile and completely helpless.

  It sucked, worse than the Fairy court…maybe not that bad but still completely insane. He really needed to reconsider his life choices leading up to this moment.

  Taking a shaky breath he glanced down at his leg and groaned. His jeans were soaked in blood while his leg throbbed in pain.

  “O-okay, think Jace what do the heroes do in the movies?” He thought aloud as he chewed on his bottom lip. “…They usually have a side kick.” He groaned and jerked around in the chair out of frustration, “Damn it, damn it, damn it.” The chair was old-ish and the back legs creaked from the movement until Haven heard a snap and was suddenly falling backwards.

  With a yelp of surprise Haven hit the ground and the chair busted apart on impact, leaving Haven laying there in stunned silence.

  He was not expecting that to happen.

  He lay there for a moment longer before glancing around; the display case had been left in the otherwise bare and empty room with him. The door remarkably and confusingly had no door knob. It was a simple heavy metal door, which could very well be silver, which led Haven to wonder how rich these hunters were to buy silver doors.

  Haven sat up slowly and focused on more important matters then the door, like the knife in his leg.

  Did he pull it out?

  He might have heard somewhere it was better to leave it in, but who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to leave a knife stabbed into his leg.

  Taking the handle gingerly Haven whimpered and yanked the knife out. It was worse than going in, definitely worse. Haven covered his mouth to keep from screaming, again. The pain throbbed dully throughout his leg whenever he moved it and did not want to move. He wanted to sit there and wait for rescue.

  But what were the chances of that?

  Pulling himself together he untangled himself from the chair and slipped the knife under his shirt, he’s sure he’d need it later. He then got up and shuffled around awkwardly until he was standing in front of the scroll and glaring down at it.

  “Stupid prophecy,” He mumbled and leaned on the case to favor his leg and left a bloody hand print on the glass. Haven pulled away quickly and grimaced, “Gross.”

Taking another look around the room told Haven some very bad things,

  There was no way out. There was one door that had no knob, no windows or air ducts and the light was recessed into the ceiling shining dimly.