Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER ONE — living dead girl
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
MAEVE WALTON was the girl everyone wanted to be and it wasn't a surprise. She, much like Lydia Martin, was at the top of the food chain. Gifted with grace and looks, her good grades and crowning achievement as head cheerleader, she was the definition of perfection. That wasn't mentioning the love that was thrown at her, not just from her wonderful grandparents but from everyone attending Beacon Hills High.
Living at the top wasn't easy but Maeve made it seem like it was. She was gorgeous in every way, beautiful black hair and ocean blue eyes, she had every boy wrapped around her finger—some girls too. She was also highly intelligent, the top of her class and while she filled the stereotypical queen bee cliche, there was one thing that made her different than everyone else.
Mexico was supposed to be a fun trip, she was supposed to be having fun, yet instead there she was in the back of someone's van and her mouth gagged. She had become the trope she hated, the girl in Taken, she had trusted someone she didn't know and landed in this mess. No one was with her in the back, the driver and his partner were in the front of the van while they assumed she was unconscious.
She wriggled around on the floor of the van and looked for something that could get the tape off of her hands, she found a rock and attempted to cut through it. The van screeched to a halt and before Maeve could even begin to make a scratch in the duct tape, she fell back and thumped her head against the side door.
She almost fell out of the van itself when the door opened, but two hands gripped her by the arms and yanked her out. They guided her to a dark building, she could hear music thumping from the inside but couldn't see anything. She was placed into a chair and left alone, she wanted to try ripping the tape again but the rock she had earlier had fallen out of her grip.
Her hair was drenched in sweat, from the fun of dancing through the night or the fear the rattled her now—she had no idea which was the cause. After what felt like hours, the door behind her opened. Maeve held her breath as the person said nothing.
She heard the footsteps as they approached her, she felt the cloth being removed from her mouth and a second cloth being wrapped around her eyes. A hand gilded against the slope of her neck, it wasn't a male's as the fingers were too small, but they were calloused like a hard working man's. The hand pushed the hair sticking to her neck away, touched her shoulder and dipped towards the low cut of her top before it gripped her face rather roughly. The fingers touched her cheeks and mouth, preventing her from speaking, and tilted her head as if they looked in consideration.
They pushed her head back and Maeve felt the cool air touch her before she felt the touch of a cool blade press against her carotid. She didn't even breathe in fear of pushing against the knife.
