Okay, I guess it was my fault, sitting here. Eating, no, scarfing Snickers bars as I scrolled through files on my laptop. It had to have been something I did earlier because what other reason would there be for a couple of dudes to break down my damn door and aim a gun at my face.
So there I was, in my semi-decent apartment in a low-class town, sorting what little pictures I had into files on my old laptop. I didn't like headphones and lived alone so I played a CD of all my favorite pirated music: classic rock, alternative rock, 90's grunge, classical, and maybe some pop I will never admit to having.
Ironically, it was my favorite time of day. Late afternoon: the sun was setting and the town was in a brief state of silence. All the working people were heading home so the drunken college kids could have their fun in the nightclubs.
There was a loud crack and bang as the hinges on my poor old door broke and slammed against the crumbling wall as a man's foot connected with it.
I stood up, abandoning my laptop, and threw up my arms half in defense and half in surrender. I'm sure I looked quite pathetic, a small girl with chocolate smeared on her lips, thin arms raised and ready to defend her crappy laptop.
I almost relaxed when I saw who came in the door. Almost. A man, prettier than me, actually, with green eyes and long eyelashes. Jeez, he looked about twenty-nine but the shadows casted on his face suggested he'd experienced enough misery to be eighty at least. Behind him followed another guy, perhaps a few years younger. His hazel eyes portrayed all emotion, and let me tell you, he looked like needed a hug. And how the fuck does he take care of his hair? I'd have to ask if they did not kill me.
Immediately, pretty boy pointed his gun at my head, barking with a commitment that said he was only trying to intimidate me. Whatever floats your scary-ass boat, dude. Tall guy looked around the room, apparently not impressed. If I wasn't scared shitless, I would have told him I wasn't expecting company, otherwise I would have cleaned up a bit.
"What's your name?" Pretty boy demanded in a low growl. Okay, not what I was expecting. Then again, he's got the gun so...
"Harper," Yikes, that sounded more like a whimper than I'd liked. Growley rolled his eyes and communicated telepathically with Mooseman or whatever they did when they glanced at each other.
"Yep, that's him." Moose concluded in a deep murmur. What the hell. Him? Am I that unattractive or are these boys blind? "Please don't kill me." I thought for a moment. "Or rape me." May as well make that clear. Both of them shot a disgusted look at me. Pretty boy visibly flinched as he dropped his arms. Ouch.
"We won't kill you, yet." My eyebrows shot up in alarm at Green-eyes. Wow, comforting. I let my arms fall to my sides. "You're coming with us. Don't ask questions." Well this should be buckets of fun. I sighed and Green-eyes took my arm and led me into the hallway and out of the building. At least the tall one was nice enough to close my door on his way out. I bet he'd be a lot of fun to mess with.
It was an awkward car ride to their motel, let me just say that. The guys drove in complete, uncomfortable silence, throwing a nervous glance back at me every so often. Like I was going to try anything, besides jump out and run back home which did not sound like a very promising plan.
When we entered their shitty motel room, I felt happy that their place looked worse than mine. I guess that would make sense, I don't think kidnappers had the time to book a five-star hotel room.
Once I stepped in the doorframe, I was immediately dragged over to their table and handcuffed to one of the legs. I screwed my face up into a scowl. "What the hell? Can't you just steal my wallet and strand me? I don't see the need for the luxury kidnapping package deal here." Eyelashes took a moment to shoot me a look like I was the dead roach on his sandwich. I think I might really hate his pretty face. He turned toward the door and- what? "You're just going to leave me here?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he didn't care either way.
"Don't ask questions." He recited. I gave a dramatic roll of my eyes and glared at his jacket-clad back as he left me cuffed to their table.