NOT UR FREAK (Avengers fan-fiction)

Capitulo Dos: Kidnapped

There are some Fathers who will warn their children to never, ever, ever touch the stove, and there are some Fathers who will drag them right to it, kicking and screaming, laughing as they they watch the flames lick at their fingertips.

-Amanda Lovelace-

"Where are your parents?"

I snapped out of my sleep when the voice reached me. Jerking myself to my feet only to fall again, the pain overwhelming.

"What?" I asked as I shoved myself farther into the ally.

"Are you waiting for your parents?" She asked quieter this time still staring at my stomach. I followed her gaze and quickly folded my hands over the still drying blood that had soaked through in the night.

"No." I said, and then stammered to fix my mistake. "I mean, yeah. Yes. They're going to pick me up soon." I forced a smile through gritted teeth, wanting her to go away. 

She smiled back but I could tell she didn't believe me. Closing my eyes, I leaned against the crumbling side of the drug store, hoping she would get the message and leave.

I chanced a peek as I heard her footsteps receding. She had actually believed me? No. No-one is stupid enough to believe a lie like that, she just didn't care. No one did. They walked right by me, barely even glancing in my direction.

So what if there was a blood soaked eight-year-old in an ally? If I stop, I'll be late for work, and Heaven forbid another fast food restaurant fire me.

Smiling at the thought, I attempted to crawl as far back between the two buildings as possible, not wanting another confrontation. I gave up almost immediately, what little adrenaline I had when I was awoken long out of my system. 

Instead curling up as far in the shadows as I could. I was still exhausted, and quickly found myself in a fitful sleep, riddled with images of his face, with the feel of his hands, holding me down, trapping me, and worst of all with the stinging bite of steel, twisting into my stomach, cutting deep trails in my skin, carving five despised letters into my core.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was once again pulled from my sleep by the voice of a woman, and it only took me a few moments to realize it was the same one. 

Maria maybe? 

Had she even told me her name? I thought sitting up slowly so as not to further damage my stomach. It had broken open the last time the woman woke me up.

She looked like a Maria, I decided examining her plain features. It was a very common name. 

I stopped my scrutiny of her face as soon as I see what was in her hands. Hamburger! And soda, Oh glorious soda! Just then my stomach growls, loudly. Maria laughed and handed me the burger, maybe she's wasn't as bad as I had first judged.

She talks while I eat, but I don't hear anything and she doesn't seem to mind that I only have eyes for my food. Half way through the meal she hands me the soda and I greedily guzzle half the bottle without even thinking of saying thank you.

Something gets stuck between my front teeth, and I pause to pick it out. It's a tiny piece of plastic, a half of what used to be a pill case. I take another sip of the soda and taste something bitter, mixed in with all the rest of the sweetness. 

My eyebrows furrow and I hold up the glass bottle of soda, and at the very bottom I make out what I know must be the other side of the capsule, still dissolving in the surgery liquid. 

I look over the woman's shoulder, she's still talking, and see an ugly van a shade of muddy water, parked right in front of the ally. I can just make out the face of a young girl through the tinted window.

I look back at the woman, presumably the owner of the vehicle and wonder if I should ask about the figure. Instead I interrupt the stream of words that haven't stopped their flow from her mouth with a simple question. 

"What is this?" The words seem slurred coming out of my mouth but I brush it off, holding up the bottle of orange crush so she can see the remains of whatever had been put in the drink. She tilts her head confusedly and pretends not to see the glass in my hand, maybe I had slurred.

I don't feel myself fall. Don't feel my head crack on the cement, don't hear the bottle hit it next to me. 

The woman leans over and lifts me from the ground effortlessly, making sure to be careful with my broken body. I think she probably did know about the cuts on my stomach, maybe she will take me to a hospital.

No, she wouldn't have drugged me just to bring me in for stitches. 

She's kidnapping me. 

Even as the words pop in my head, I dismiss them as foolish, normal people don't get kidnapped. 

You're not normal. 

At least she had a van, kidnapper's always have a van. But people only get kidnapped in movies, taken against their will for ransom.

Isn't that what she's doing, taking me against my will? Too bad for her, no-one was going to give two cents for this hostage.

A/N

Not exactly what I was going for when I started, but still not my worst attempt, for all of the two people reading, thank you so much for supporting this poor writer who has everything EXCEPT the beginning couple chapters planned, please hang in there, it will get better. I promise.

Live long and prosper.