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☆★
The night grew on, and Milo stayed alert. The sound of rain from outside spat heavily, echoing through the small room. She laid across the couch, afraid to make any movements.
The house had been silent for a couple of hours now. She couldn't tell if it was completely empty or if the people inside had went to sleep. All she could think about was her mother. She was supposed to be back home forever ago.
Her first day back, already hectic. Her eyes scanned the dark room, still trying to analyse the features of it. Her heartbeat appeared to be loud, the only sound she felt she could hear. Fear overcame her body once again, then a flush of sadness.
She had been placed here, only her and her thoughts. This all didn't make any sense. How exactly did this all happen? Trying to trace her steps, Milo went back to the party. "Yes," she thought "This must've all started from there."
Closing her eyes, Milo attempted to picture the event.
~
The dark purple coloured room. She stood scanning. Her fist clenched, she observed feeling a sudden nervous emotion overtake her body. Her knees felt weak, as her thoughts ran wild, heart beginning to thump louder and harder.
Breathing in, Milo began to walk towards what she assumed to be the kitchen. Arriving, she had seen a tall bottle of vodka and red plastic cups towered in the corner. She put a little bit in her cup before she stepped away momentarily to search for Kassandra. When this went unsuccessful, she return pouring the rest of this drink in her cup, she threw it to the back of her throat, swallowing it immediately.
~
A sharp pain ran through her head, causing her to groan out. She folded her lips in immediately, realising what she had done. "Fuck." She whispered. Soon, the sound of a creaking floor had been heard. Then, footsteps.
These same footsteps made their way down the stairs. Milo's heart sunk to the dark pits of her stomach, as she awaited what she believed to be her last day on earth. The door gently opened, and there stood a silhouette.
The broad shoulders and hair gave Milo the impression that this was a man. Reaching out, the light switch was flicked, the room soon filled with yellow brightness. Milo blinked profusely, attempting to adjust to the sudden light that shone through the room.
Once her vision had been clear, she stared at the same silhouette that stood at the door way. She squinted, scanning the features of what stood before her. Recognising the caramel skin, and the same face tattoos written on his cheek, she fell in shock.
The guy from the party, the same guy from the station stood and stared at her. Shirtless, she read the tattoo that had laid on his muscular chest. Cleopatra it read, this being something she recalled. Milo inhaled and exhaled, the eye contact the two of them were making had become unbearable.
He stepped forward, soon becoming close to the couch. He hovered over her, scanning over her shaking body. Tutting his teeth, he walked into the kitchen, coming right back out with a pair of scissors.
He reached out attempting to grab the rope, Milo flinched back. "Yo, stop fucking playing with me." He muttered. "Get the fuck away from me!" Milo yelled out. "Fuck! Ian tryna fucking hurt you! Let me cut the fucking rope!"
Milo continued to kick and move around strongly, trying to avoid his touch. He placed the scissors on the arms of the couch, pinning her down. His strength took Milo by surprised, not matching up to his size. He grabbed her as she still continued to fight.
He effortlessly flipped her on her stomach, placing his hand on the back of her neck, smothering her face into the couch pillow.
She cursed out, giving up on her attempts to fight him off of her, defeated. Breathing angrily, she allowed him cut the ropes from her arms and feet. Feeling her arms sink beside her, her wrists ached. He let go of her neck, but she still remained on her stomach.
"Get up." He demanded, walking away from the couch. "Now."
Milo sniffled, tears running down her cheeks. She aggressively wiped them, standing up still remaining in front of the couch. "Come here." He said, grabbing her wrist. Opening the living room door, he roughly pulled her through the halls.
Tugging her in front of him, he pointed up the stairs. Telling her to walk up them, she cautiously did so. Every step, she looked behind her staring at him. He stared back at her reassuringly, lacking the friendly appearance.
Once the both of them made it up the stairs, she continued to shed tears with her fists balled. He led her in to a room. This room did appear to be comfortable. A tv, a dressing table, a bed too. Her favourite thing on top, weed.
She stood in the corner of the room, under the blue light that filled the whole room. He sat down on the spinning chair, grabbing a remote control. This is when Milo had realised that he also owned a game. Wiping her eyes, she still stood still scanning the whole entire room.
He looked at her, then looked at a chair that was pushed underneath the dressing desk. Milo prudently approached the seat, reaching and pulling it out. Taking a seat, her leg bounced nervously. Fiddling with her fingers, she looked ahead of her, trying to not make any eye contact with him. This still didn't help the feeling of his dark eyes glaring at her.
Bravely, she directed her eyes back at him. The two of them looking at one another, before he broke the contact. "Ian finna hurt you, you know that right?" He spoke out, putting down the controller.
"Am I supposed to? You brought me to this fucking house, and ion even know you." She spat out. "Tied up, may I add."
He stood up, standing in front of her. He squatted. "Understandable. But ian yo friend."
Milo itched her head angrily, clenching her fists. "What you need to tell me is why the fuck I am here."
He snickered, standing up. "It's not my place to tell you. What I'm supposed to do is take care of yo ass whilst you here." Milo looked at him in confusion.
