One-Shot Collection - Keanu Reeves.

-𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙒𝙞𝙘𝙠 -

This is it, I'm going to die.

A cloth is tied around my head, gauging my mouth to muffle my screams of help. My wrists are tied behind my back, the rope digging into my skin and giving me rope burn. Sweat drips down my face, causing long hairs to stick to my forehead. There's no way out. Not even 10 years of training can help me here. There's too many people. I don't know what they want, and whatever they do want, they are willing to kill me for it. A tall man with blonde hair turns to another man beside him, muffling some words. The man with the blonde hair looks at me, smirking. He squats in front of my tied up body, smiling. Hot tears start streaming down my face, blurring my vision. I can see him lean in, holding his gun to my temple. I scream in panic. I'm going to fucking die, he's going to fucking kill me. My breathing pattern quickens, struggling for air through the cloth. "Little girl...no need to cry" his accent is thick, almost foreign. "Just tell us where John Wick is, and you'll survive" he continues. I nod my head no. I don't know who John Wick is. I don't fucking know.

The man scoffs, pressing the gun harder to my head. I scream out. His hands grip the cloth, pulling it from my mouth. The last sounds of my scream echo in the empty warehouse. "SPEAK LITTLE GIRL" he yells in my face, spitting on my cheek a little. I gasp for air as my mouth is exposed. "I don't know who the fuck John Wick is! I don't fucking know just don't kill me, please" I beg. My voice is course from screaming for so long. The man looks at the other guard there, speaking in a language I don't understand. He looks at me and pulls the safety off his gun. He rests his fingers on the trigger. "PLEASE, please don't, I don't know anything, I-I don't even remember how I got here" I cry out. I can feel more tears stream down my face, body shaking with anxiety. "Listen bitch, tell us where he is, or I fucking shoot you" he says aggressively. My voice chokes out, giving up. Just shoot me. I have nothing to tell you. This is my end. I stay silent, quietly sobbing and gasping for air. He switches the position of the gun, now pressing it to the middle of my forehead. The cool touch of the gun against my forehead makes me shiver a little. He wraps his finger around the trigger more, his eyes searching mine.

I break down, crying and letting spit fall from my lips. Snot and sweat mixes above my top lip. My quiet sobs become loud ones as I realize my fate. I never even got to say goodbye to my family. Suddenly, blood explodes on my face. I let out a scream that comes straight out of a horror movie. "OH MY GOD" I scream over and over again. It takes me a moment to register the dead man that lays face down into my lap. I didn't die.. I'm not dead. I look around, men falling one by one. Bullets and blood are everywhere, the sound of death ringing in my ear. I shut my eyes, tears shedding. what is going on. I pray this is a bad dream. please be a bad dream. Suddenly, the dead weight of the man is lifted out of my lap. I open my eyes quickly, coming face to face with a man. He is dressed head to toe in a black suit. He has cuts along his face, his ear length brown hair brushing over them. His deep brown eyes search mine as my body sits in shock. "Don't scream, I'm John Wick, it's going to be okay." I can feel my eyelids grow heavy as my body realizes I'm safe. So this was the guy they were looking for. My eyelids drop and vision becomes black.

-

When I open my eyelids again, I'm laying on a soft couch. The touch of the fabric begs for me to return to it as I try to sit up. My heart quickens as I don't recognize my surroundings. The living is big and nice. Modern furniture and paintings dress the room, finishing it off with a clean smell. I look down and I'm dressed in clean clothes, my scratches and scrapes cleaned and bandaged. I get a wave of pain, making me groan. "Hello?" I call out. Nobody responds, making me stand up. My legs ache, rope burns prominent on my ankles and wrists. I gain my balance and take a step on the cold floor. In the distant I can hear shoe footsteps echoing in the hall. I stop, afraid of what would come around the corner. A man appears, the same one from the warehouse. The sight of him brings me comfort, disregarding the fact he killed a dozen men in front of me. He still remains in his black suit except the cuts on his face have been cleaned up. His eye's quickly scan me up and down, studying me.

"Hey" his deep sounds.

"hey"