The Protective Entity (A Buzzfeed Unsolved AU)

4 - Ryan POV

I regained consciousness without any idea of how much time had passed. I felt the grogginess in my chest, head, and face. Everything felt heavy, but at the same time my body felt weightless.
My eyes opened slightly as harsh fluorescent light peered through my eyelids. I squinted, my pupils shrinking, as I tried to lift my hand to shield my face from the light.
My hand didn't move when I wanted it to. I felt something holding it down.
I was too exhausted to try and process where I was.
Instead, I shut my eyes and tried to fall back asleep.
Then, I heard a loud slam that jolted me awake, my body shuddering.
My brain finally decided to awake, and I realized I was tied down to a chair.
Not just a flimsy, rickety metal chair; a fancy, mahogany chair that smelled brand-new.
There was a piece of duct tape over my mouth, blocking my speech. I worked up the effort to call out but to no avail.
I heard footsteps behind me, and then I felt a presence approach beside me.
I glanced up at an unfamiliar face. It was a grungy looking man, around age 50, with ugly brown scruff and thick-rimmed red glasses.
The man rudely ripped the tape off my face and rumpled my hair.
"Glad you're awake, Ryan." he tells me in a chirpy tone, walking up to a neatly organized desk.
"Barely." I reply with a huff of air, sarcastically laughing a little.
I move my arm a little and feel a sharp pain, like a needle, moving in my right arm.
My head whips to the side, and I look to see a literal needle in my largest vein.
I absolutely hate needles. My arms raise with goosebumps and my stomach aches with anxiety at the very sight of them. Whoever this guy knows more than my mother even knows.
"Are you comfortable?" he asks.
"I'm not sure." I reply, adjusting my arms, which are strapped down palm-side up with leather straps. I didn't want to let him know how scared and confused I really was.
"Well, I hope so. I made that chair with my own two hands." he says.
The chair was extremely hard and made my butt completely numb.
I was absolutely, positively not comfortable, but my kidnapper really didn't care if a chair I was tied to was a cushioned throne.
My captor lifts a small tonic with what I can only assume to be my blood and tilts his head back as the liquid runs down his throat. He makes a face and mumbles under his breath.
"Is that mine?" I ask.
"It sure is." he responds, sealing up a plastic bag with a zipper and setting it down next to a collection of other fluids I can't recognize.
"Is there any specific reason you are drinking it?" I ask him a bit too casually.
The red stains his lips and his teeth, the remainder of the blood sliding down the sides of the glass beaker as he sets it down.
"Not really, no. I had an IV in you, I was thirsty, so I took a little from your veins. The taste isn't the best, though." he explained.
My stomach twisted with disgust, "What does it taste like, exactly?" I say.
He licked his lips and wiped them off with his sleeve, the red streaking across it. "Yours? Very bitter. Bitter and watered down. It's not the most delicious I've had, but it'll do. I prefer blood that is salty and rich. Thick, a bit creamy." he described with a thoughtful look.
I sunk backwards, feeling the tingling in my hands growing to numbness.
"How many people have you killed?" I ask.
"Hm...I don't really kill. I kidnap them, blindfold them, torture them a bit, just enough to draw a pint or two if blood, store it in a cool room for later, then take them back..." he grabbed my face, "But we are going to keep you here for a while, I believe. Get some information. We won't kill you, hopefully, but we will do whatever we can to get what we want from you."
I stare into his dim green eyes that reflect my fear in my own eyes. I was terrified, and innocent.
"What do you plan on doing?" I croak out, my throat tightening and drying up.
Suddenly, the door opens. A man with leathery skin and messy brown hair stands before me.
"That's for them to decide." he replies.
The man hungrily paced around my chair. He had wide, bulging eyes and yellow teeth. His hands were rough and calloused, his arms covered in hair.
"You look like you've seen some messed up shit." his voice growls like a rabid dog. His breath is awful, smelling immensely of marijuana and stale beer.
"I just watched a man drink my own blood, I'd say that would do the trick." I say with a wavering voice.
My chest tightens as he puts a hand on my cheek and draws close to my ear. I can feel his menacing smile, "You call that messed up? Ryan, sweetheart, it hasn't even begun yet."
My lip quivers and my hands are shaking.
He walks over to the bag filled with my blood and pours it into a shot glass. He swings his head back and pours the glass into his mouth, but gags and spits it back out, splattering it all over the floor.
"You are such a shitty person even your blood tastes like it." he says through gritted teeth.
He takes the IV out of my arm and wraps duct tape around it.
"Now, let's start tearing you down. Start from square one. Buckle in, it's going to be a long night."