Hey : )
I know I'm awful and I shouldn't start another story until I finish one of my others, but I just couldn't help myself.
Got the next chapter written : ) Please review.
It was impossible to see in the darkness of the room, the blackness covering every inch of it, blinding anyone who was unfortunate enough to be trapped inside. The small widow was boarded up with thick wooden planks, dense enough to block out a slither of light and a squeak of a sound. Though the room was indescribable by anyone locked inside, the smell overpowered them; a stale mouldy smell filled the room, choking prisoners and making their insides churn. The smell was sickening and strong, and very likely made people vomit, adding to the stench.
After a few hours though, it was hardly noticeable. The most prominent smell then was of blood, booze and burning flesh, courtesy of the violent men that frequented the room.
A small sob echoed around the room, a pitiful cry in an almost deserted space.
On the rotting floor a women lay limply on her side, her long toned bare legs curled up against her. Her chocolaty hair was fanned beneath her, matted with blood, spit and sweat and her short nose drizzled with fresh blood. Her usually ghostly green eyes drooped and one was sore and bruising.
She didn't want to move, she couldn't- the pain was unbearable.
How could this happen? She wondered over and over again, she had had a plan, a foolproof plan, how had it failed her so immensely? She should have been lounging on the beach back in California, not trapped inside a room where she was pretty certain she was going to die. The mess she had got herself into was astronomical, and there was no way out. She wasn't supposed to fall for him, to leave her job for him, they wouldn't help her now, and where was he? Loading his gun with bullets that he planned to riddle her delicate body with.
The loneliness of the situation stabbed at her like a cold knife; she was dead and she knew it, and she knew that the people she called friends wouldn't help, not if he didn't want them to.
She lay there, remembering this cocky smirk, and the way his cold eyes used to soften when she'd erupt into fits of giggles at his seriousness. She wanted to feel his muscular arms around her again, protecting her, never hurting her; she knew it would never happen again.
Suddenly, the lock's on the door began to creak, and her fierce eyes widened in anticipation for the pain that was surely going to attack her courtesy of one of his gang members.
The door squeaked loudly as it opened, flooding the room in bright light and temporarily blinding it's wounded occupant.
She slowly opened her swelling eyes and gasped as she realised Billy was standing in the doorway. "Ready to die, Danni?"
What did you think of that short start? :/ Constructive criticism is most welcomed.