She couldn't see anything still, the room windowless and the lights off. She could wander the room, feeling along the cold damp walls and the rotten wood that made up items her mind could not figure out. She was suddenly reminded of Poe's story The Pit and the Pendulum and how she felt now that she could relate with the narrator, she was being held against her will by a psycho she didn't know with unknown horrors awaiting her. Truthfully her mind was playing out the exact same horrors that the narrator was subjected to, replacing him with herself.
It made her blood run cold.
'Stop you idiot. If the guys find out that you scared yourself into a heart attack you will never hear the end of it. Now, focus. There are no windows and the door is locked from the outside.' She jiggles the handle in her hands, bouncing a little as she tries. She releases it in frustration, turning around to lean against the door and hold onto herself. The room was freezing. 'Ok, no sound either meaning I'm either underground or in the middle of nowhere. I need a weapon of some kind.' She pushes off the door, once more feeling around for anything. Her hand runs across something sharp and she hisses in pain, fighting against her instinct to jerk her hand back and move away. She finds the flat part and follows it down, her mind coming up with the image of a bladed weapon. She had a feeling that was not what it was but it would do. She grasps the no longer sharp bit, wishing she hand something to not only wrap around it for a hilt but also to wrap around her hand as she feels the warm sticky blood ooze out of the cut. It felt like her hand was on fire.
'Alright, weapon. No idea what it is but its big and fairly heavy so damage should be substantial. Now, I have to make sure I keep myself alive so that they can find me. God, I hope they find me quickly.' Suddenly she heard steps scraping against the ground, growing louder as they approached. She holds the piece of metal like a baseball bat, ignoring the flare of white hot pain it caused as she gripped it tightly. Her heartbeat quickened and her breathing deepened, her senses on high alert and overstimulated. She swallows the bile that rises in her throat and takes aim as the door is unlocked and opened. She swings hard but misses as the light assaults her eyes, blinding her and she hears the metal connect with the wood of the door while also feeling it become stuck. She releases it and takes a few steps back, tripping on something and falling backwards onto the floor.
She hears a high pitched laugh and then her hands are grabbed with something winding quickly around her wrists tightly. Her hands immediately began to ache as the circulation was cut off and she was yanked up into a standing position, a dark colored bag pulled over her head before her eyes were given any more time to adjust. She was pulled in a direction, the hand encompassing her upper arm belonged to a man since it went from where her shoulder ended to her elbow, and that was when she noticed the multiple sets of footfalls. Whoever had taken her had not done so alone and were still not alone.
She trips over her own feet as she tries to keep up with the pace they were making her walk. If she wasn't able to find her footing the man dragged her, her toes making trenches in the grime that covered the ground. She could tell it was still cold, if not colder here than where she was. Goosebumps crawl across her body as she begins to shiver in terror and she briefly thinks about fighting back against them. But she wasn't built for strength, no matter how hard the men had pushed her her strength had happened in speed. But that had been so long ago and she didn't know if they had guns on them or not. Fleeing while blind and being shot at was a good way of getting one's self killed. So she opted for option number 2, follow along until she found an opening to flee and take it. Still she wished the guys were there, wished Alex was. She would feel better if knew if they knew where she was, if they were the reason for her being removed from her dwelling. Because moving her was a big risk she would like to think and they wouldn't do so if there was any other reason.
She felt the dirt building up on her feet with each time they dragged her and it just added to the whole feeling of unclean. She didn't know how long exactly she had been there but she knew that if was long enough that her hair was greasy and stringy, that her head had gone past hurting and she vaguely remembers reading something about after three days of not washing your hair that the dirt or dead skin or something would begin choking off the roots of the hair causing pain. Still as she waits for the brightness of true daylight it never happens. Instead the artificial light begins to become intermittent with long periods of dark engulfing her eyes before a pale imitation of the sun would break up the darkness and then return to the dark. They were taking her deeper underground she realizes with a belated thought, and finding that option 1 was still very much out of the window since she still didn't know if they had guns. Between the sound of her being dragged along and the steps of her captors, she hears the sound of water dripping and a low rumbling somewhere far off in the distance that carries on for a minute or two. Was it a train? Was she close to some sort of train yard or below it?
And then she realizes that it wasn't a train, it was a subway. That revelation was a bit elating but then it gets squashed when she thinks of just how many cities have subways. She could be in any number of them. She shivers with unease and true cold, hearing one of the men holding her laugh off to her right.
"Shut up, don't laugh. Don't say anything. You know the rules." The voice was back, the one that had laughed in a high pitch, the one that had a broken cackle back at her house in Texas. She could tell it was female from the pitch but something was off from it, like there was some sort of twitching going on with her mouth or body that prevented true articulation of her words. She was somewhere around Megan, her voice bouncing off the walls in a disarming way, and she fights against the urge to look around. She knew she couldn't see but still she wanted to get a look at the person that was responsible for so much pain that was inflicted upon her and her family. And she found she hated the woman, truly hated her. The loathing gnawing away at her gut, the rage that was causing her head to pound, the disgust that she had been bested by a fool addicted to heroin and meth.
And she hated that she had allowed herself to be. She made herself relax and had given the woman the opening she needed, and now she was here in some stinking hole in the ground being dragged by psychos to god knew where to do god knew what. Maybe, just maybe, she would let her go. She snorts softly, she knew it was nothing more than a fool's wish.
She hears a door squeal open, her bare feet stumbling on the uneven ground before she is hoisted up and her legs are grabbed and she's forced to lay down on something. Her ankles are bound down, the binding around her wrists are removed briefly before her arms are pulled out and away from her body and leather is tightened around her abused wrists. The bag is ripped from her head and a soft light fills her vision from a multitude of candles set around the room; long since dead ones stuck in place from the melted wax, some half burned but unlit, but most lit. It allowed her to see who was around her, who had taken her from her home.
Grimy men surrounded her on the table, clothing old and torn and grayed, hair unkempt and shaggy, beards long and filthy, skin grayed with dirt and other things she was sure she didn't want to know. But from where she was forced to lay down she could finally see the woman whom she had only ever heard. Stringy dark colored hair hangs limply from her head, long dark locks reaching her waist in clumps like the snakes from Medusa's head, an over sized dark colored hoodie hanging off her thin frame along with dark colored jeans barely holding onto her equally thin hips. She had her hands fisted at her hips, stance one that was proud with her legs apart at shoulder width and a bright smile on her face that lights up her dark colored eyes with a wicked gleam. The same dry cackle erupts from her painfully cracked lips that Megan had heard at her home in Texas. Suddenly everything begins to piece its self together, all the times that something unexplainable had happened for so long. She glares harshly at the woman and watches as the smile on her face falters slightly but returns full force.
"The princess is almost ready. Quick, we 'aven't a lot of time left before we 'ave to start the ritual." She jerks her head behind her and the three men surrounding Megan quickly leave. Now alone with her tormentor of untold time, Megan couldn't figure out what exactly was going on. Nothing good she knew, if the word ritual was anything to go on, but she had to find out.
"What the hell do you want with me?" Megan questions with so much venom in her underused voice that it even surprised herself, not that she let it show on the outside. The woman's smile turns almost sweet, sickly sweet, and she makes a noise similar to a coo before tsking at her while wagging a finger in a no-no motion.
"Don' worry bout that princess. Everythin will be jus' fine." The woman meanders around, walking just out of reach of Megan not that she was capable of doing anything tied up as she was. She stops and digs in the kangaroo pouch of the hoodie, pulling out a clear-ish pipe and a small plastic baggie filled with some crystals. The woman pours some in, letting them settle down in the bulb of the end. She leans over several dead candles to a single lit one to roll the pipe's end over the burning flame. Soon the crystals start melting and give off a white smoke which she then sucks in deep lungful breaths and breathes out in billowing clouds that hang in the air, clinging to the ceiling. A twitch begins in her fingers, Megan notices, that travels up her arms and soon becomes a full body tremor. Her head rolls back to rest and her eyelids flutter, lips twitching over jagged teeth.
Megan's brows pull tight over her eyes. "The hell is wrong with you!?" Megan hisses quietly, watching as the spasms that wrack her body. She couldn't understand just how this woman was still standing, let alone conscious with the amount of drugs the woman had just smoked. "Who the hell are you?"
The woman's eyes snap open and she turns towards Megan with slow deliberate motions. Once more she smiles, brown broken jagged teeth are shown when her cracked lips peel back, and she finally moves close enough to Megan to allow her to smell the dank and decay that wafted off of her. Megan gags, stomach wanting to make a bid for freedom as she retches hard, and yet still the woman moves closer. "Name's Suri, Megan. I know all about you. I know that you asked me to do this."
What was she talking about? Megan didn't understand just what she was talking about, she had never asked to be watched or followed or kidnapped. She just wanted to go home to Alex and Cas and the boys.
"All of you princesses asked me to do this." Megan's eyes widen.
"W-what are you talking about? How many times have you done this?" Suddenly faded memories of missing women from headlines from before the boys showed up comes to mind, still unsolved as far as she knew.
Suri cackles dryly, the sound more of a wheeze than anything. "Four of you princesses hav' made yourselves known ta me."
Three women, she'd kidnapped three women previously. Megan almost didn't want to ask her next question, just knowing in her heart that she already knew the answer. "What did you do to them?" Suri leans back away from Megan, still with that grin on her face.
"Freed 'em." Megan swallows thickly as she hears shuffling in the direction of where the three men disappeared, watching out of the corner of her eye as they return. One of them had an ornate knife in his hand, one that seemed oddly familiar to her. With a sudden start she realizes that it was Malik's knife, the one that had been missing for so many months, the one that had been the last gift given to his by his late brother Kadar. One of the other men had a white sheet, clean and crisp, in his hands holding it as reverently as possible. The last of them had a pair of wicked looking scissors she wasn't sure the purpose of was. "Move faster you assholes, there's not a lot of time left."
The one with the scissors moves forward, lacing his fingers in the handles as he walks to her feet. He grabs the hem of her pajamas, placing the fabric between the blades before beginning to close them.
Deep rumbling echoes down the halls into the room, freezing all occupants inside.
Um, mwahaha...?