A Life Less Ordinary
Fear What Will Happen, Should You Scream
Bane grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and led her downstairs and into the stairwell.
“You don’t have to be so freaking rough!” Isla cried. He looked down at her, his eyes cold.
“No screaming once we step out through this door. It would not go well for you.” He said, holding up the detonator. She exhaled sharply and glared at him. He tilted his head slightly. “Are you going to scream?”
Her eyes narrowed. “It depends on what you are going to do to me.”
He chuckled and grabbed her arm again. “Fear what will happen, should you scream.”
He opened the door. It was still raining, but the storm had passed. Her medical bag in his other hand, he led her across the parking lot to her 1972 black VW Bug. Isla smiled at her car in comparison to his size. He would never fit and there were no other cars, only trees and empty office buildings. She considered yanking her arm free and running. He was big, but wounded, slow. As if sensing her thoughts, his grip tightened painfully. “You’re hurting me.” she said angrily.
He held out his hand. “Your keys.” She fished them out of her soaked scrub top and slammed them hard into his waiting hand. His eyes narrowed slightly at her attitude, but said nothing and opened the luggage compartment in the front. He looked back at her and held out his hand, like a psychotic game show host.
“You are fucking kidding me.!” Isla shook her head. “NO!” She was claustrophobic only in times where she couldn’t move her arms or legs and this was one of those times.
“I can’t fit!” She began to back away but he held up the detonator.
“Or do I need to put you in myself?”
She began to hyperventilate as she stepped into the small compartment. She had to lay on her side and tuck her knees into her chest to avoid being hit by the lid.
“See there? You fit perfectly!” His voice sounded almost chipper.
“You son of bi-” He slammed the lid down. She lay there in the pitch black and screamed. She felt the car dip violently. ‘What the hell?!?’ With a loud crank, the car rumbled to life. Though an extremely tight fit, she was still knocked against the frame as he drove her into the unknown. Her hands and legs began to tingle as circulation was interrupted.
Her mind ran rampant. Where was he taking her? What was going to happen to her? Tears welled in her eyes as she began to think of her life.
It had been a lonely and boring one. Her parents had divorced when she was ten. Her mother, a singer, left her to be raised by her father. But he too had other plans. He was a corporate attorney, a cold man and an even colder father. He remarried and had her shipped off to boarding school barely before the vows escaped his lips.
“Daddy PLEASE!! I don’t want to go!!” the child in her mind sobbed, clutching desperately to her father’s arm. He wrenched his hand free and walked away without a word.
She found solace in music and books. At seventeen years, she had acquired enough credits for early graduation. The only one to go to her graduation was her Aunt Kay. She had been so happy that she had shown up. She felt for sure that Kay would take her home, away from the educational prison she had been forced to call home. But by law, she was still underage, and her Aunt had no custodial rights. She was forced to live on campus until her 18th birthday. Aunt Kay died from a stroke the day before.
Isla had won a scholarship to Misericordia University, and by 22 years, she had graduated, alone, with her Masters degree in Registered Nursing. She felt as if her life were missing huge pieces. Parents, romance, security.
She had had friends and boyfriends, but none that stuck around for too long. She had had sex once with a fellow student. Guys rarely spoke to her as she kept to herself. But this one had approached her, and oh how he had fooled her. He had short blonde hair and a decent tan. He had been funny. She remembered he had made her laugh often, and she found that trait attracted her more than his looks. After nearly a month and a half of decent dates, she had found herself naked under him. But his demeanor changed shortly after, and a week later, she found herself in the hallway of the college, crying as he walked away from her forever. Her first time, meant to be special, had been a total waste.
She had been to parties and out on dates, but was never crazy over them. Her ideal night was curling up in her oversized leather chair with Baxter The Cat, fire blazing in the fireplace, and an old black and white movie on TV. She loved movies and oft times found herself daydreaming about the sexy hero-or more, the sexy villain. She squeezed her eyes as she realized that no clever hero would be coming for her.
“You don’t have to be so freaking rough!” Isla cried. He looked down at her, his eyes cold.
“No screaming once we step out through this door. It would not go well for you.” He said, holding up the detonator. She exhaled sharply and glared at him. He tilted his head slightly. “Are you going to scream?”
Her eyes narrowed. “It depends on what you are going to do to me.”
He chuckled and grabbed her arm again. “Fear what will happen, should you scream.”
He opened the door. It was still raining, but the storm had passed. Her medical bag in his other hand, he led her across the parking lot to her 1972 black VW Bug. Isla smiled at her car in comparison to his size. He would never fit and there were no other cars, only trees and empty office buildings. She considered yanking her arm free and running. He was big, but wounded, slow. As if sensing her thoughts, his grip tightened painfully. “You’re hurting me.” she said angrily.
He held out his hand. “Your keys.” She fished them out of her soaked scrub top and slammed them hard into his waiting hand. His eyes narrowed slightly at her attitude, but said nothing and opened the luggage compartment in the front. He looked back at her and held out his hand, like a psychotic game show host.
“You are fucking kidding me.!” Isla shook her head. “NO!” She was claustrophobic only in times where she couldn’t move her arms or legs and this was one of those times.
“I can’t fit!” She began to back away but he held up the detonator.
“Or do I need to put you in myself?”
She began to hyperventilate as she stepped into the small compartment. She had to lay on her side and tuck her knees into her chest to avoid being hit by the lid.
“See there? You fit perfectly!” His voice sounded almost chipper.
“You son of bi-” He slammed the lid down. She lay there in the pitch black and screamed. She felt the car dip violently. ‘What the hell?!?’ With a loud crank, the car rumbled to life. Though an extremely tight fit, she was still knocked against the frame as he drove her into the unknown. Her hands and legs began to tingle as circulation was interrupted.
Her mind ran rampant. Where was he taking her? What was going to happen to her? Tears welled in her eyes as she began to think of her life.
It had been a lonely and boring one. Her parents had divorced when she was ten. Her mother, a singer, left her to be raised by her father. But he too had other plans. He was a corporate attorney, a cold man and an even colder father. He remarried and had her shipped off to boarding school barely before the vows escaped his lips.
“Daddy PLEASE!! I don’t want to go!!” the child in her mind sobbed, clutching desperately to her father’s arm. He wrenched his hand free and walked away without a word.
She found solace in music and books. At seventeen years, she had acquired enough credits for early graduation. The only one to go to her graduation was her Aunt Kay. She had been so happy that she had shown up. She felt for sure that Kay would take her home, away from the educational prison she had been forced to call home. But by law, she was still underage, and her Aunt had no custodial rights. She was forced to live on campus until her 18th birthday. Aunt Kay died from a stroke the day before.
Isla had won a scholarship to Misericordia University, and by 22 years, she had graduated, alone, with her Masters degree in Registered Nursing. She felt as if her life were missing huge pieces. Parents, romance, security.
She had had friends and boyfriends, but none that stuck around for too long. She had had sex once with a fellow student. Guys rarely spoke to her as she kept to herself. But this one had approached her, and oh how he had fooled her. He had short blonde hair and a decent tan. He had been funny. She remembered he had made her laugh often, and she found that trait attracted her more than his looks. After nearly a month and a half of decent dates, she had found herself naked under him. But his demeanor changed shortly after, and a week later, she found herself in the hallway of the college, crying as he walked away from her forever. Her first time, meant to be special, had been a total waste.
She had been to parties and out on dates, but was never crazy over them. Her ideal night was curling up in her oversized leather chair with Baxter The Cat, fire blazing in the fireplace, and an old black and white movie on TV. She loved movies and oft times found herself daydreaming about the sexy hero-or more, the sexy villain. She squeezed her eyes as she realized that no clever hero would be coming for her.