in the bath and wanting to read more kidnapper ghost…. so why not make it one of my first posts
you leaned heavily against the scratched wood of the bar in front of you, wiping sweat from your incredibly hot face with your uncomfortable long sleeve (that you chose to wear because you were walking home in winter damn it) while your forehead felt like a weight was attached to it. you even started blowing air onto your forehead in an attempt for momentary relief. it wasnt this hot in here when you sat down
maybe its the mass amounts of people coming in, because your head is pounding from the noise and everyones voice overlaps and when you look out behind you, twirling in your stool to view the rager happening behind you- and theres nobody.
maybe an overstatement, you recognize helpfully through, there are a few people grouped together about but not enough to be this overwhelming. good, that means your brain is functioning through the fog that slowly poured over your skull.
“you alright?” a deep voice asks on your right
you look over with squinted eyes at the man who towered standing next to you, looking up from where you were crouched over your drink in a stool.
“uhhh,” you start hoping the few words would kickstart your brain enough to sputter out a response to this honestly scary looking man beside you, oh god hes still staring at you-
“im ok, just a little hot” you say with a laugh to make your tone sound convincing. he only squints in response.
he moves the chair next to you to stand closer, leaning forward on the bar like you as if he were getting a closer look. “hm. looks like you need some fresh air”
you nod, a ‘yeah maybe’ response barely off your tongue when he stands up and grabs under your arm, pulling you up with enough fluidity your fight or flight responses only comes to you once you gain your footing walking out of the bars door. he cautiously walks you to the parking lot (keeping a tight hand on your arm as you stumble to use momentum to get him off of your arm, when did your senses get so slow?), settling you against the wall near his car that blocks your visibility of the road.
you try to will your arms to move up or to get your legs to lift your ass up, to even get a foot off the fucking ground as the drugs he spiked you with start to fully kick in. the world fuzzes out with tour headache while he digs in the bed of his truck to open the duffel he kept all his things in, pulling some duct tape out and striding over to you with practiced ease, history with working under pressure you suppose.
after he secures tape rings around your thighs, ankles, wrists, and mouth, he hauls you up to your feet and places you on the right back seat like a doll. he pushes you down and you fall without any give, earning a nice chuckle from him before he slides you all the way into the cab. your head is floating, your chest might be heaving, tou recognize that this is a vital moment in how you end up at the end of this.
you need to sit up, you need to open that door, you need to scream at the top of your lungs but tears prick at your eyes when you cant even will your legs to lift up to latch your feet under the handle and launch out. you cant do anything but cry. the lock clicks as he slowly enters the drivers side cab, not bothering to buckle his seatbelt while lighting a cigarette and starting the car.
your eyes squint as it stays harder to stay awake, your breath uneven with weak garbled words exiting your mouth as you look in his eyes through the rearview mirror. his eyes squint under his thick winter balaclava with warmth, a smile. he reaches a hand back to grab around your thigh while he turns around in his seat. the edges of your vision black out
“its alright, love. i wouldn’t kill something as cute as you” he says with the same tone you would use on a scared, mewling kitten. he gives your leg a nice squeeze before your finally out.
