As soon as he closed the door she began searching the room with bloodshot eyes.
Where the hell am I?
The last thing she could recall was boating out to an island for the photoshoot. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here or where her models were. After a frustrating attempt to remember anything more she gave up. She took note of everything. Besides her and the chair, the room was basically empty. About two feet from her a brand new pair of handcuffs hung from a rusty bent nail. That was about it. It was a small room about 10 by 12. A single light bulb hung from its wire in the center. Though the room was dim, she could tell it was daylight by the light pushing through the thick blankets that covered the windows. They weren't only on the windows though. Thick blankets of various sizes and patterns coverd every inch of the walls. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she made a disturbing realization.
Please tell me those aren't for sound proofing.
Just as she decided to escape at all costs, the door creaked open. Assuming it was her captor and taking advantage of the sound proof break, she began shouting.
These walls were meant to keep SOMEONE from hearing.
It was who she was expecting but not what she was expecting. Within one second of her screaming her captor had thrown the door closed behind him, stomped over to her, and slammed his hand down over her already sore mouth. Was that... Fear in his eyes? In his remarkably sunlight green eyes? His hand she noticed was rough and cut. She could taste blood and nicotine on his palm. She moaned in pain and for a second she thought she saw a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It vanished twice as quick as it appeared when she heard rapid furious knocking at the door.
with a deep sigh, he released her mouth. He grabbed her painfully by the hair and leaned in close, pressing his lips against her ear.
"Good fucking job."
It sounded more like a snarl than anything else. Though none of those words required tounge she felt the tip of his slide over her ear lobe just for a second as his teeth pressed into her cartilage. His hot alchoholic breath felt like venom on her skin. She shivered as it slid down the back of her neck making her hair stand on end. Shoving her back a little, he went for the door, Opening it just enough to stick his head out. She allowed her head to hang down, shrouded by a matted black forest of hair.
"WHAT?"
"Vaas, who's in there?" said an unfamiliar voice.
"My girl. I'm keeping her for a while."
"The girl from the ship? You said we could have her." It hit her all at once.
The boat! My crew! Oh god where the fuck am I? Her captors voice snapped her back to the moment.
"I fucking lied, okay?" he growled "If you got a problem with that, I got a solution." he reached for the gun holstered on his belt. "you can have the boy."
"He's dead already."
"Thats your problem." Claire heard the door slam.
She could feel the vibrations of his boots coming towards her slower than before. Every time he took a step she felt her heat beat harder. He seemed tired. Or perhaps, frustrated. There would be no way for her to tell the difference. One small click broke his stride. The room lit up by the feeble flickering bulb. She shakily rose her head up for a moment but only enought to see his filthy boots standing perfectly still about two feet away.
"You know, baby" he started "You American girls always get your way. You use your pussy to control your men but I know what you really need. Trust me baby, we're gunna have a little fun."
Having him this close and possibly pissed caused her to flinch and shut her eyes. She wasn't met with a slap as she expected.
"Keep your fucking hands off me." she ventured. All she heard was a metallic clink.
"I am gunna LOVE taking you down a peg." He cooed at her.
The handcuffs...
With no other game plan or way of escape. All she could think was...
"Vaas..."
