Dark Intentions

3: Panic

Chapter 3

When I wake up, my head is pounding. I squeeze my eyes closed in an attempt to force the headache away, but it only makes it worse. Now the backs of my eyes are pulsing in sync with my head, making me groan in pain. I take deep breaths, trying to soothe myself. At that moment I can remember the party, and everything that had happened there. I shouldn't have overused last night. I open my eyes.

My vision is blurry, my eyes watering instantly. I try to wipe the moisture away but when I try to, I find that my wrists are bound. My heart skips a beat; why would my hands be held down when I was laying in a tub? I make my eyes blink several times, clearing my vision. I quickly take in me surroundings, panic rapidly rising inside of me.

There was a skylight above me, maybe thirty-five feet measured from the floor to the ceiling. The sun was at its highest, shining bright rays of light into the room. It hurt my eyes to look at it so I turned my head to the side, noting the rest of the room. To my right lay a desk with papers, and a tray. On the tray lay different types of tools for surgery: scalpels, knives, tweezers, scissors and syringes. Napkins lay right beside it covered in blood; whoever's blood, I don't know. And I wished that I won't ever have to. My stomach started turning at the sight so I turned my head to the left side. But this was much worse.

There were shelves; a lot of them. On the shelves were jars, jars full of an undecipherable liquid. Not only did it hold the liquid, but it held parts of a person's body. Things like someone's heart, hand, eyes, and tongue floating in some of the jars made bile rise up in my throat, making me gag. Not only that, but there were bones and skulls on display as well. They lay right next to some of the jars, like some kind of sick museum. I swallow down the bile; I didn't want to throw up right now. I looked up at the ceiling and into the blazing sun.

I try to lift my legs up to stretch them out, wanting to remove the tension away from them. But when I try to, I find that my ankles are also bound to the bed that I'm laying on. I grumble in frustration. Where the fuck was I? I think to myself.

All of a sudden, I hear footsteps. It sounds like whoever is going to get to me is rising from something, like from a ladder of some sort. The pounding of the gait coincides with my headache, making it worse. My eyes start to water again. A few seconds later I can hear the unlocking of a bolt, and a door slowly creaking open. Whoever is opening up the door is bring careful not to disturb me, for I can hear that they lightly put the door down onto the floor. Before the person could make their way over to me I close my eyes and make my head roll to the side, creating the image that I'm sleeping. However, when I close my eyes a tear slides out from when they were watering earlier.

Damn it. I swear to myself. I silently pray that the person coming for me isn't going to catch sight of it.

When I hear the resounding footsteps coming closer I start to sweat. I take a deep breath, trying to make it look like a sleepy sigh instead. I wait for the moment for the mysterious person to approach me. When the person is standing at the side of the bed I can feel their presence; heat rolling off of their body. I try my best to take short, even breaths, trying not to twitch at the unknown person standing so close to me. One second I can pretend that I'm trying to sleep and in the other, I'm trying not to flinch at the touch of someone stroking my cheek to wipe away the tear. I bite back a scream.

"I know that you're awake." a smooth, deep voice says. The hand retracts from my face, and my eyes flash open.

There's an older man standing above me, looming for how tall he is. He looks like he's in his mid-twenties. And he's gorgeous. He has gray eyes that penetrate you, looking though you. He has sharp cheekbones, and a defined jawline. His hair is disheveled, perfectly falling into brown curly wisps at the top of forehead and at the nape of his neck. He wears an ordinary white t-shirt and gray sweats, the opposite image of a searched for criminal. The man smiles.

I shake my head. He's probably the one that owns those stomach sickening jars that sit on the shelves, and those intimidating tools that sit on the desk. This is the man that kidnapped me, that strapped me down into a bed. Wait. Did he kidnap me?

"Who are you?" I try to lift my head, trying my best to get a better look at him. It doesn't really make a difference though, I can barely lift it without my head screaming for me to let it rest again.

"And here come the questions." the man grumbles. He walks over to the desk that holds all of the surgical tools, and organizes them; as if they weren't all organized already.

"Well what do you expect? You're not going to expect me to let go of the fact that I'm strapped down in a bed." I wiggle my fingers to emphasize my point. When the man doesn't answer my question, I speak again.

"Answer me. Who are you and where am I?" I repeat forcefully. At this the man turns, and walks back to me, standing at the side of the bed again so that I can see him. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he's smirking.

"Oh, so you haven't figured it out yet?" the man says. He folds his hands in front of him, like we were having a normal conversation over a cup of tea. Except that I was held down by leather straps and he was looming over me like a dark tower. I let out a breath of exasperation.

"Well, what does it look like to you smart ass?" He may be beautiful, but he was getting on my nerves. Why couldn't he just answer my questions already? The man lifts his eyebrows, like me calling him an ass was unexpected. There's more where that came from. I think to myself.

"You're different from the others." the man says. He looks at me like he's trying to solve a puzzle, like I'm sort of safe that he has to crack to find out what's on the inside.

"What do you mean I'm different? You're not making any sense. Can you please answer my questions?" I'm getting tired of going in circles with this guy. I wanted an explanation as to why I was being kept here.

"From  the others that I kept here. And got rid of." the man says, looking off into the distance as if he was thinking of those people. I kept silent, waiting for him to continue. But he didn't so I asked instead.

"What happened to them?" I was hesitant to ask, I was afraid of the answer I would receive. And I was right to assume so.

"I killed them." the man smiles criminally. Before I could even react to his answer he pulls out his hands from his pockets, one of them holding one of the syringes that were sitting on his desk. He stabs me in the arm with it causing me to yelp out in pain. While he pushes down on the plunger, my eyelids slowly droop. After a few seconds I'm put into a fitfull sleep.

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Hey guys! Sorry for the late update I was busy all night last night sooo... Tell me what you think of Steph's captor in the comments below! And don't forget to vote! Updates every Wednesday! Thanks!

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