Chandelier

Hold me when I'm down
Bury my soul underneath the ground
Let my blood keep pumping, my heart keep beating
Shining like a chandelier *********************************************************************************************************
I don’t remember much. A glint of silver. A pair of scuffed brown boots. Emerald green eyes. Shouting voices. A rag being shoved into my face. Total darkness.

And now I’m here.

Wherever here is.

With my hands tied. And a migraine.

Where’s a bottle of aspirin and a pocketknife when you need them?

I looked around the dark room, trying to take in my surroundings. If my chances of escape depend on using furniture, the odds are so not in my favor. There was one wooden chair in the center of the room, and a small table in the back left table. The only light in the room came from a small crack between the door and the floor, and was raised high from the ground. Great, assuming I get free, I have to run up stairs.

I felt more than saw the zip tie on my wrists, and attempted to pull them out. The only result was sore wrists and and an even tighter grip on my wrists. I rolled over and sat on the floor. The concrete cooled my legs and I could feel goosebumps on my arms.

That’s it. I’m going to die of hypothermia before the gang even gets here. Imagine how disappointed they’ll be.
"What do you mean we can't torture the broke waitress we kidnapped from a club after beating her uncle? I've been looking forward to it all day."

I must have jinxed myself, because I could hear voices from outside the door, and saw shadows more closer, dancing in the light. I hesitated, should I pretend to be unconscious or not. Split second decisions have never really been my thing.

The door knob rattled as someone on the other side impatiently tried to get in, and /i made my decision. I was expected to wake up eventually, might as well make a show of strength now and get it over with. With a loud “BANG” the door jerked open, slammed into the wall, then hung awkwardly to the side, completely unhinged. Wow, me and that door have way too much in common right now.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, your average psychic’s description of a tall dark stranger. An arm reached toward the side and my heart raced, thinking back to the gun from earlier. Please don’t shoot me. Please don’t shoot me. I’ve survived this long, I’m too damn stubborn to go now.

I heard a small “click”, before the room was flooded with light. My eyes burned as I peered into the light, trying to see the face of my kidnapper. After a few seconds, my eyes focused on the blur of a small girl moving closer. She walked until she was about three feet away from me, then stopped. She had the awkward appearance of a thirteen year old girl, all arms and legs, but you could easily see that with her long blonde hair and delicate cheekbones, she was going to be beautiful when she got older. How did she manage to get caught up in this?

Without moving her eyes from her shoes, she quietly mumbled, “I’m Everly. I’m supposed to clean you up.” She gingerly walked around me, and I easily caught the message that this was the last thing she wanted to do. I could imagine what I looked like, my hair was proably a mess and I could feel the dried mascara around my eyes. I must look like a raccoon with rabies.

After looking me over, she sighed and announced “Well, I've seen worse.”

I opened my mouth to speak, beg for help, anything, but all that came out was a hoarse croaking sound. Recognition crossed Everly’s face, and she held up her hand.

“Hold that thought, I’ll be right back!” She bolted out of the room, and I was left alone with my thoughts. A few minutes later the blonde shot back into the room, carrying a glass of water in one hand, and a box cutter in the other. Ah Ha!

She laid the box cutter on the table, far, far away from me, then brought over the water. I’d love to say I calmly took the glass in my own hands and drank it with dignity, but that would be a lie. She held the glass to mouth and I chugged it like there was no tomorrow.

Which for me chances are there isn't.

The moment I could breathe again I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Where the Hell am I?”

Everly opened her mouth to explain, but closed it as a new voice rang out. “My house. Which might as well be Hell, if you don’t listen.” Everly jumped as though she'd just been zapped by electricity, spilling the rest of the water all over me.

The boy, no, the man walked into the light and I found myself in his shadow. His hair was a light shade of brown, but there was no mistaking his eyes and face: this was Everly’s brother. He surveyed the room, taking in his sister holding the cup, the box cutter on the table, and finally me. Lying on the floor covered in the spilled water. I really need to get better with first impressions.

The boy groaned and ran his hand through his hair, before saying, “I don’t get why Harry is so caught up on this bird. Or even making me keep her here, I mean seriously, do I look like the Four Seasons? American Inn? Even Best Western has better standards than this. Besides, she looks like a drowned fish. I could find better blindfolded.” Okay, that hurt.

Don’t mind me just sitting here, you know, with a zip tie around my wrists. Otherwise I’m fine. Just peachy. Not like I was taken by a bunch of idiots to a basement in God knows where that smells like mold and rat poison. With a large blood stain in the middle of the floor that you really should of cleaned up, because now it just looks trashy.

A muscle in the boy’s jaw twitched, and I knew I’d made a big mistake. “Crap, did I say that out loud?” I asked already knowing the answer. He grabbed my arm and yanked me up from the floor, hard.

“Yes, yes you did you little punk”, he snarled. I was close enough to his face that I could see the veins in his neck throbbing. “I realize right now It seems like your life sucks, but it could be worse. Much worse. We can make you disappear into the night without anyone ever knowing what happened."

Funny, you already seem to have done that.

"So why don’t you shut your mouth before I slit your throat.” He shoved me and I stumbled, falling to the floor. Then he turned around and left without another word. I looked over at Everly, who’d gone completely white.

“What’s his problem?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. Instead, Everly just looked like she was going to cry.

“It isn't you. He’s mad at himself for pointing you out to Harry at the club. If he hadn't, you’d just be sitting at home grieving your uncle. But now Harry wants you, and once he has something, he never gives it back.” My chest tightened, but I’m not sure if it was at the mention of my uncle or everything else she’d just said.

“Harry? Harry Who?” I prompted, already having a very bad feeling about this.

“Harry Styles. Leader of the Thorns, wanted for arrest in 17 countries, and the King of all criminals in this God forsaken country,” she sniffed, ruining the moment, but her next words chilled me to the bone: “And he wants you to be his queen.”

Things just got real.

Notes

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