Run Over

I woke up in utter darkness. That was never a good sign.

"BUT WHY DID YOU BRING A HUMAN GIRL HERE?!" A muffled shout entered the darkness. I was lying on my side as I quickly sat up, only to hit my head on the low ceiling of...wherever I was. My hand instinctively went to my head. The only problem? My hands were bound behind my back and my feet were tied too. Oh, and another thing—I had duct tape over my mouth! I began to freak out, naturally.

Darkness, a small enclosed space, and being hog-tied is not the best way to prevent an anxiety attack.

I calmed my breathing somewhat closer to normal, so I wouldn't hyperventilate and faint again—that was the last thing I needed at this moment—and ignored the throbbing in my head. Instead, I tried to strain my hearing to catch something the voices—outside my unknown prison, would say; anything to help me figure out what was happening. I moved against the carpeted floor and paused.

Carpeting? Where the hell was I!

Carefully, I sat up as much as I could and tried to let my eyes adjust to the darkness that pressed all around me. A sudden thought came to me and I grasped around for a handle or knob in the dark that could grant me my freedom (anything was better than being in the godforsaken darkness). I could feel a wall behind me, so I leaned against it and felt around. Finally, my hand touched cold plastic and I laughed in relief, but as I turned the handle it was thrown open by someone on the other side.

Since I had been leaning on the "door" for support, I fell onto the cement floor and could add another injury to the growing list. I tried to shift my legs underneath myself to stand, but a sharp pain prevented me (with my luck I probably broke my ass).

My mind reminded me of what had happened before I had blacked out and I blinked trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light faster than was possible. I needed to find a way out of wherever I had been taken.

My eyes took in my surroundings. I quickly learned that I had been tied up and tossed into my own trunk (my car was right next to me), the red paint slightly chipped from whatever the guy had done when he drove it here. I knew that I would make him pay for the MAACO bill.

"Great! Now you let her see the place! What is wrong with you?!"

My attention snapped to the man with long brown hair who was about to blow a blood vessel.

Really, his jugular vein was popping from under the skin of his neck and his face was red with rage.

Wait, did that mean that the guy was human? I mean, I could see the blood pulsing in his veins and vampires don't have a heartbeat. So he's not a vampire, right? Or had I imagined the whole vampire-guy-ripping-a-werewolf's-throat-out scene? My head hurt.

The man who I had hit with my car crouched into my view. For a split second I knew the darkness had been a better option, but I was already on the floor, there was no going back.

I finally took notice as to what he was wearing. I guess I had been too distracted before, what with the fact that I had run him over (and saw him fight a death match against another, supposedly, supernatural being that shouldn’t have existed, but I’m getting off topic). His thin, navy blue sweater was ripped at the shoulder—probably from hitting the pavement at forty miles-an-hour—his jeans were a little worse for wear and he had sparse blood stains all over his clothes, but his face, and skin, was clean now. He smirked at my assessment of him and I tried to swallow my heartbeat that was thudding painfully in my throat. I quickly glanced at his mouth, then back up to his face. He seemed normal now.

"Are you going to scream?" I stared at him a moment before I vehemently shook my head, I wanted to be able to take a deep breath of air to calm myself better—and then he ripped the duct tape off my mouth.

I paused.

"OW..." I said kind of sarcastically. Really, try to be sarcastic when the skin of your lips was just ripped off; I get points just for trying.

The guy smirked and shook his head, amused by my reaction. Stupid sadist, I huffed out a gush of air, but quickly disguised it as a weak cough, and continued to take in my surroundings. I was in a garage with white cinderblock walls and harsh fluorescent lights. There was an octagonal window in one wall next to a steel garage door and I saw that it was dark outside, so only a few hours had passed. Then I looked at the tool bench in front of me and felt the color drain from my face. Steel saws, picks, hammers, knives, and other assorted goodies littered the wall and winked at me in the light.

Breathe in...Hold…and Out…

I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat as I quickly lost my humorous attitude, if I had one to begin with.

"Don't worry." His amused green eyes followed my line of vision to the tools on the wall. "We only use those for the kind of thing that you saw me kill before."

That helps the feeling of terror, I thought sarcastically as I dragged my gaze away from the wall, this guy is really into gore, huh?

He saw my semi-disgusted look when I turned around, and chuckled darkly. I jumped when I felt the back of his hand caress my cheek softly. It was a curious sensation; his skin left a tingling trail as he slid it under my chin and lifted my face sharply toward his. I took note that his skin was slightly cool and soft, almost comforting.

If I hadn't thought he was attractive before... I didn’t dare finish the thought, but my traitorous face had probably flushed because his eyes shot to my neck and stayed there for a solid minute.

I took that moment to think about it and the conclusion I came up with made sense. A handsome guy was this close to me, of course, I'd blush and my heart would pump faster. So he, being a vampire, was watching the pulse in my jugular vein.

I watched the utter concentration his stare contained and shuddered. The thought of him being interested in the flow of blood in my veins was disturbing and creepy, but at the same time I was surprised at myself for figuring it out so fast. Points for loving horror novels, I guess.

My attention was suddenly pulled back to the man as he leaned close to my neck. I tensed visibly as I felt his cool breath on my neck. I could feel the chill bumps rise and quickly spread own to my collarbone. His eyes followed the trail before he let his nose trail my jugular; I heard him breathe in and shudder.

Turning back to the man behind him, he commented, "I've missed the ones in heat..."

In heat? I was thoroughly confused, and then I realized. My widened eyes flicked back to the long-haired man standing in the background, his eyes seemed more interested than they had been. I realized with horror that he, too, was whatever this guy was. I just couldn’t make myself think of the word yet; it still seemed slightly absurd even though what I had seen before had been proof enough.

I struggled to pull away from him and his all-knowing smile, but he tightened his grip on my chin between his index finger and thumb. I winced as the pressure pinched my skin to my jawbone and before I could stop myself, I had raised my hand to smack him. His other hand closed around my wrist in one blink. In those two small actions, I knew that I was obviously out-muscled.

"Now, now. Don’t be like that," he scolded lightly, smirking, "You have to play nice if you ever want to leave here." He moved his mouth to my ear and added, "In one piece."

I let my arm go limp, along with my head. The man behind him shook his head and sighed heavily. The guy eventually let go of my hand and he tilted my chin up again.

"So, what's your name?" he asked. His eyes were alight with natural curiosity, but something else seemed to be hidden behind the surface of those green orbs.

I paused for a moment, debating on giving him a fake name; I decided against it. I didn't want him to "accidentally" hurt me with a tool from the pretty wall that stayed out of my sight, behind him.

I sighed, "Winry." He looked at me for a second, processing.

"Short for...?"

"Winifred." I grimaced; I hated my full name. I hated the three other nicknames that people tried to use: Wendy, Fred, and Winnie. They just sounded so proper. Well, not Fred obviously, but I didn't want people calling me a boy name all of the time. So, I stumbled upon a show once and heard the name. It could come from Winifred, but I digress.

"Winry..." he repeated softly, eyes never leaving mine. I shivered and looked toward the ground to break the contact and he smirked again. I didn’t like the way he said my name, he sounded so sinister when he said it, like it was the name of an organism that he was recently interested in.

He let go of my chin and lifted me up sharply by my upper left arm. I winced at how tight his grip was.

"Nate," he told me nonchalantly and I looked up at him with a confused look, "That's what you can call me," he added in a lightly exasperated tone.

Nathaniel..."The Gift of God"...