How Cliche to Have My Heart Stolen

My heart felt like it was going to fall out of my chest. Here was this guy, holding a gun, threatening my life and acting nice about it. It was almost confusing. But there's really nothing confusing about what I had to do. I had to give the man pointing a gun at me my only defense against him. I showed compliance. I didn't want to die, not today at least, so I closed the knife, and put it out in his direction.

Luke, who seemed almost too nice, had the ass hole-iest father I've ever met! The apple couldn't possibly have fallen any further from the tree. Excluding when he tried to get me high, he really was nice.

Luke's father took the knife from my hand. He said, "I admire your spunk. You just shouldn't have tried to use it on me." Putting the knife in his pocket, he looked behind himself, just outside the door. "Hey, c'min here. We got a problem."

"What now?" the voice said, annoyed.

In came a man in a cheap looking suit. It looked like he'd worn it for a week straight. It didn't look neat on him at all. It made him look like part of the mafia or something. As if that wasn't creepy enough. "Who're the babes?"

And that was the icing on the cake. Not only is a gun still pointed at me, but I was called a "babe" by this grease-haired skeezebo.

I tapped my fingers on my jeans nervously. Just let us go home! My parents will look for me if you kill me.

"Lucas brought them here, I guess," his father explained. "I think we might have to keep them here."

"I found an abandoned building," Skeezebo said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's in a rural area, where there isn't much traffic. I think it'd be a safe place to hide the bodies."

"You can't kill us," Rachel said. "Brodie's family will send the police after you. And they will find us and you'll be in big trouble."

I stopped her. "Just shut up! Do you really think you're helping the situation?"

Skeezebo smiled. "Street smarts, I like."

I just vomited in my mouth a bit. I immediately swallowed my nerve and a bit of stomach bile and looked from Skeezebo.

"They're right. The dark haired one comes from a well-to-do family," the father added.

"They'd hire people. I'd stay arrested with those resources." With the hand not holding the gun, he rubbed his chin. "We're going to that abandoned building. We aint gonna kill 'em though. Carl, go tell Lalean to bring the zip ties and to have tape ready in case they want to yell for help." In very gangster style, he tucked the gun into his pants, it was held in place at his waist.

I hope you blow your balls off, I thought. You think I'm being mean? Yeah. Being held captive doesn't always put me in the best of moods. I'm weird like that.

Lalean came back. She was pretty, I guess. Her legs were long, even though she simply wore flip-flops. Her black hair fell to her shoulders completely straight excluding a curl at the end. She looked like she belonged with someone better. Which makes me wonder why she'd get involved with guys like Luke's dad and Skeezebo (I don't care if his real name is Carl, he's always gonna be Skeezebo to me).

She had four zip ties, I was staring at them. I suppose it was obvious, because she said, "If you try to run, we'll have to bind your feet. Good luck hopping away." Her lip gloss glistened when she smiled. It was way creepy, I was beginning to understand how she got involved with Skeezebo. Skeeze attracts skeeze.

"Up against the wall," Luke's dad had a forceful voice. He wasn't nice or even faking nice anymore.

I put my hands against the wall, had my feet shoulder length apart, as though I was about to have a pat down by the police. My hands were jerked from wall. I lost my balance and fell into the wall; my face squished against the wall.

Now, let me make this clear. I am not weak. I do not faint. But I hadn't slept in over a day! I was stressed and weak.

The blood rushed from my face. I could feel my muscles losing strength, my body going limp under the weight of the air as my vision blurred, grew dark, and then went completely black. For the first few seconds, I could hear and feel what was going on. I could hear them demanding for me to get back up; I could feel the zip ties around my wrist beginning to cut off the circulation to my fingers.