Untitled for Now

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

This first chapter is triggering so I am placing a warning for blood, rape, and murder. In case anyone doesn't want to read anything so violent.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Explosive

Submitted: November 09, 2018

Reads: 189

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 09, 2018



Ignoring most of the squealing girls when walking down to the continental breakfast is difficult since they're being overly obnoxious, mostly about losing the tournament. Last night I told Hayley that I'll meet her there as soon as I wake up but ended up sleeping in just a little longer than normal. Unfortunately I didn't bother putting on my shoes and just left on my knee high socks and uniform, which causes a lot of guys to stare at me more than normal but what do you expect? Everyone stares when someone attractive walks in or someone who isn't wearing much. I plop down into the seat next to Hayley, stealing a bagel from her plate full of food, she doesn't seem to care so I snatch up some of the fruit as well.

“Morning sleepy head.” a girl from across the table says, she is the team captain from the other high-school on the other side of our home town. We all went to the same preschool together, her name is Katherine, if I remember right.

“Morning all.” I shove a piece of cantaloupe into my mouth. “Great win yesterday.”

“Yea but you guys still won the tournament.” she sighs seeming depressed. “I can't believe it will all be over after today.”

“Unless you play in college.” Justine chimes in a mouth full of yogurt.

Katherine shrugs. “I had no plans to play. No scholarship. Plus I want to be in the medical field.”

We all continue to eat just chatting about school and what we think our futures hold for us after high-school. Slowly but surely most of the teams have packed up and gone back to their home towns, leaving just my team at the hotel. Katherine waves through the window before running to her bus that is taking her home. As for my team, our coach said that our bus would be a little late due to some flat tire problems. Which is to be expected with the way that old man drives, he drives over pot-holes, runs over glass in the road, just all around blind or stupid really.

Zipping up my dufflebag, I look around the room for anything else I may have left behind. Letting out a long sigh I nod to my coach telling me to be ready since the bus should be here shortly. Dragging my duffle off the bed as if it is the heaviest thing on the planet even though it really isn't I am kind of excited to get home, it means I can go back home and finally sleeping in my own bed. Rushing out of the room I don't bother look around me, I swing my dufflebag behind me as I shut the door only to realize I've actually hit someone with my bag. I look up mortified that I've probably hit some adult or business person!

“I am so sorry!” I squeak apologetically, slightly terrified that I am gonna get yelled at by some stranger. A guy, who looks a little older than me is standing before me, a smirk sprawled across his face. His emerald green eyes shift from me to the end of the hall back to me, as if he is looking for someone. The guy shoves his hands in his pants pockets after moving his slightly curly ginger hair from his eyes and leans against the wall.

“Oh no doll. I'm sorry, I should've been looking where I was going.” he looks me up and down, putting his hands in his pockets. “Although, if you're really wanting to make it up to me...”

I look away a little uncomfortable with his innuendo but also speaking to someone I don't know. I've been really shy ever since I can remember, making friends is so hard for me and even having a boyfriend is hard sometimes since I can't even look at him sometimes out of just shyness. He looks at me, waiting for a response but I am not really even sure of what to say.

“C'mon doll. Nothin' to say to that?”

“Not really.” I hide my hands behind my back and sway a little bit, he reaches across the way placing a hand right beside me on the wall. He winks when I look up at him.  “Well I have to go. We are heading back home. Have a good day.”

I rush down the hallway, trying to put on my shoes in the process of waiting for the elevator, ignoring the fact I am blushing so much I know my whole face is a bright shade of red. Refusing to even look back at that weirdo even though I kind of want too. That was a really odd encounter, nobody has ever flirted with me like that. And normally I'd punch someone for it but this time I couldn't really bring myself to do anything.

My body walks as I stay focused on my thoughts, how I won't be playing volleyball after this week because of graduation and I have no plans to play when I get to college except casually. I let my bag collide with all of the others on the ground in the large pile. Everyone must be on the bus already since the only person who is out here is the man I am assuming to be the bus driver, when did we get a new one? All this talk of my future, college, and life is starting to get to me mentally, it is too much for anyone! Honestly I don't know where people expect you to one day be listening to adults then the next be an adult yourself, as if they even teach you how to be an adult, it's really messed up.

Slowly climbing the stairs of the bus I notice that all of my teammates are sitting down, staring straight ahead, nobody is talking or smiling, that is odd. Hayley is looking at me, terror in her eyes, she is slowly shaking her head. My body refuses to move even though something in my mind is telling me to run as far as away as possible. Something isn't quite right but what? I stand there for a long moment, scared to even move as if the bus will blow up if I take even the slightest step forward or backward. The only thing on my mind as of now is to get to Hayley and Justine but I feel a hand go on my wrist, holding back.

“Go.” one of my teammates whispers to me, she is crying. “Run.”

Slowly I back off the bus, prepared to run but instead I am met with the same boy I saw inside just moments ago. He looks down at me, shaking his head slowly, warning me not to do anything. Stiffening up I shoot him the meanest glare I can manage, I am sure if I were to move something bad would happen. Crossing my arms I lean against the bus a tad, just as though I am challenging him to some sort of fight. Hell, I would fight him if it was just him, but he has a bunch of creepy looking guys with him.

“You're smart.” he scampers off. “Smarter than your friends in there.”

His whole gang start ripping apart our bags, going through them, not bothering to pay attention to their hostages, what a dumb thing to do. I look at the bus just to check on everyone, Hayley is staring out of the window at me, she is pointing to something behind me. Casually looking behind me I see that there is a small gas station a little bit further away from where we are. Nodding slowly I take the hint. Taking a small step backwards I check to make sure no nobody noticed, they're too busy going through the bags still. I take another one, still nobody is paying attention. Hurriedly I break into a sprint, it takes a moment but I can hear the guy screaming to go after me but I am too far away for anyone to really catch me, they really should pay more attention if they're gonna take hostages and not have one with the rest. The gas station getting just a little bit closer every second but it still seems so far away. Taking a small look behind me, they're still a good distance away, how could they think to keep up with me? I am a star athlete in my city.

I burst through the door, locking it behind me. Instantly I am looking around searching for a phone or some help except there's blood splattered all over the back wall where the cashier would be. Of course they'd be smart enough to hit this place before going to the hotel but aren't smart enough to watch hostages. I notice a couple more bodies piled up to my right, panic is starting to set in, are we not going to make it out of here? Frantically I start going through pockets but nothing, so I travel into the office. No call is going through, like something is blocking the usage of phones. I throw the one cell phone down that was in one of the drawers, the corded phone is cut so there isn't any using that. A baseball bat is in the corner of the office, ok, a weapon, something I can use to defend myself. James taught me how to swing, finally it'll come in handy. Peering out of the office to check if they caught up I see him standing outside, looking in. He motions for me to come outside but I refuse by not even moving. I breathe heavily, prepared to do whatever it takes to get out alive. He shrugs at me as if it is my choice to live or die. I look all around the store, I see two guys in the back, ducked down, hiding but I am sure they forgot about the mirrors on the ceiling. Can't believe people still use those things over cameras, but right now I am so ecstatic that they exist here.

“What happens if I come out calmly?” I call out to the guy.

“Depends on how I feel.” he taps on the glass as if I am some caged animal. “Either way you will be out of here if you come to me or have to be dragged out to me.”

Cautiously I come out from my hiding spot, preparing myself for the goons to come charging at me but they don't move. I make it to the door, the guy is standing in front of it.

“So what is it gonna be doll?” he presses his hands on the door. “Are ya gonna be good and come out here or are you gonna be dragged out kicking and screaming. I prefer you to come screaming but I am sure you have different plans.”

“Maybe watch the people you're trying to take hostage.” I smirk, Isa's attitude is already growing on me. She would be so proud to hear me speak if she were here. If she were here she would be able to help me, tell me what to do. What would she do if she were here? Frankie would most likely pull a gun but I don't have that, I just have a bat. Finally it is clear, she would fight them, kill them with whatever she had.

“I think I'll prefer to get dragged out kicking and screaming.” I look at him, a wide smile goes along his lips. “That is if you can manage to get me out of here.”

I hear some feet shuffling around coming towards me, so I spin around and swing the bat as hard as I can out of fear. The metal clinks against something hard with a dull noise, I open my eyes, blood is falling from a deep gash in one of the guys head. He doesn't move, is he dead? I hear the other one come running and instead of swinging I duck, he manages to trip over the other guy. Instantly he is back on his feet coming at me, jumping over the counter nimbly just to dodge the knife that comes towards me. He jumps over and I manage to swing at him, hitting him in the head just as easily as the other one but this time I put all my force into it. He stays standing for a moment before dropping to the ground. I step back so he doesn't get blood on my shoes.

Looking up to see the guy staring in, a glare across his face. He stands up right, almost accepting that his two goons were crap at taking on a girl. He taps on the glass again getting me to look at him, from there he points behind me, I see another two guys but this time they have guns. I hold up my hands dropping the bat. Even I know when it is useless to fight back, a bat can't take on a gun.

“Cheater.” I glare back at the now smiling guy. One of the guys comes up and holds my hands behind my back. He leads me outside through the garage, even more blood crawling on the floor. Just how many people did they kill? I am forced up in front of the brunette, he looks me up and down.

“Seriously underestimated you doll.” he holds his hands behind his back. “Just for that stunt you pulled.....”

“Blow'em up!”

His voice carries across from the gas station to where the hotel is. I look over at the bus full with my teammates and best friend is. I rip myself from the guys grasp, stupidly running towards the bus, screaming for the girls to get out somehow. I can hear his sadistic laugh following me quite close behind.

“You'll never get to them in time!” he sing songs. My body stops as soon as my ears hear the loud boom that echoes for miles away. Parts of the bus are falling to the ground, the fire is towering high above the bus. Stumbling a bit, I force myself to walk the rest of the way, ignoring the psychopath behind me as he cackles. The ginger dances around me swinging a gun around as if this all just a game. His hands go around my shoulders before I feel the ground beneath me. Strong fingers grasp my chin, forcing me to look away from the wreckage and to look at him.

“You will never win.” he sits on me, holding me down even as I struggle and try to fight him. “I am two steps ahead of you!”

I look over a the burning bus, tears flowing down my cheeks, my chest throbbing in pain. Nobody would ever think that things like this would happen. Sometimes you forget that there is evil in the world. The guy forces me to look at him again. A twisted smile covers his face, he leans down.

“Looks like since you're the only one left, you'll be my hostage!” he shoves a wet cloth around my mouth and nose. The smell of paint thinner or some chemical drowns out my senses, making the world around me start to spin then go dark.


I woke up awhile ago, but I haven't moved yet, it is hard to since my hands seem to be tied behind my back, or I am just too weak to move, I can't really tell. However I know that I am not restrained to the object, most likely a chair, I am sitting on. Either being brave or stupid, I can't really tell anymore, I try to get on my feet but I fall back into the chair. Trying once more I make it to my feet, leaning against the closest wall to me for support. The whole room is spinning as I slide my way to the open door, my legs just barely moving which makes me move slower.

“We are not killing her!” the familiar voice yells, echoing throughout the halls. “She is our hostage! We don't get what we want without one!”

Ducking into one of the darker hallways hoping nobody sees me, I notice that two guys walk by me, the ginger trailing behind them lost in thought it looks like. I wait for them to get to the room form where I escaped to make my run. My body is aching and heavy, it is almost impossible to even run, what did they do to me? Not caring anymore and basically out of breath I stop running, resting on a large pile of boxes.

“Thought you could actually get away doll?” the ginger picks me up as if I am just a small dog or something. He flips me over his shoulder, keeping a firm grasp on my butt to keep me steady, there is no way I am getting out of this. I am too weak to fight back.

“Did you drug me?” my voice is quiet, he doesn't answer me just continues carrying me back to the room.

Once back to the room he drops me onto the chair. He is shaking his head disappointed, but I don't bother looking at him. His footsteps start pacing the little room, suddenly I feel ice water in my face, making me shriek from the sudden coldness, I feel myself hit the ground.

“Wake up!” he howls in laughter. “How are ya darlin'? Feelin' better?”

“Fuck off.” I spit in his direction, turning my head away from his. I close my eyes prepared to be hit or something but instead he simply looks back at his group of goons and they leave, shutting the door behind them. He puts me back into the chair, I hear him pull a chair up in front of me and he sits in it. My eyes look right into his, he is studying me closely, as if he is looking for something. He crosses his arms, spreading his legs a bit, getting comfortable I assume.

“Ya know, I am using as a hostage, there's no reason I can't use you for other things.” he licks his lips. “I wonder if you taste good.”

I don't move, for some reason though, I am not scared at the thought of him doing anything to me. My whole body relaxes as I lean into the chair getting comfortable as well, our eyes locked together in determination for one of us to win. But what are we supposed to win? Figuring if I let him do whatever it is he is planning on doing will be best for my safety, he is two steps ahead of me no matter what I do, not mention he probably has me drugged up so I can't fight back. On the plus side he can't do anything worse to me than whats already been done.

“You're not scared.” he pouts, crossing his arms and turning his back to me. Instead of giving him satisfaction, I continue to sit there, looking at the ground, ignoring his constant rambling about fear and such. When suddenly I feel my whole body hit the ground hard, the weight of his body on top of me. Looking up at him dazed from my head hitting the ground, I notice that he is getting irritated really fast. His lips gently brush mine, he is staring into my eyes like he is searching for fear.

“Why aren't you scared?” he leans in closer, forcing our lips to touch, pulling away after a brief kiss. “You were scared at the store and crying when I blew up your friends.”

He makes a point, maybe it is the drugs or the fact I saw my best friends die, either way I don't know anyone who would still find crying helpful. I can't pull away since there is a solid ground behind me, but I do keep eye contact. He runs his free hand up my thigh, stopping right at the hem of my spandex shorts. Hesitantly he slides my shorts down before rubbing my genitalia over top of my underwear, but it doesn't last long, he slides my shorts up again. Grabbing my face he pulls it close to his, moving my head side to side.

“What is wrong with you?” he shouts, his irritation showing more and more. “Why aren't you scared of me!”

“Because you're not scary.” I sigh as if I am bored, slightly wondering what would happen if I were to push his buttons more.

Even though in the back of my mind, I am fearful for what my future holds, I have to make sure I don't give him what he wants, if I do it is over. My heart is pounding through my rib cage just wondering what could be happening next, it is clear to me he is unpredictable and does whatever his impulses want. My chest tightens as he slowly cocks a gun and puts it underneath my chin his face twisting with curiosity.

“How about now doll face, not so tough now huh?” his face contorts into rage. This isn't the type of rage I've seen my mother or father go to but a different kind. The kind most would describe as demonic, his anger is literally seeping from every pore on his body.

“No?” I try to move away from him, my voice trembling as I speak. “You'd be doing me a favor.”

He pulls the gun back and nods. In a quick motion a knife is to my throat, a sick smile spread across his pale face. His other hand slides up my t-shirt slowly, running the tips of his fingers over me. He slides the knife down to my stomach and adds some pressure. The tip of the knife is sharp, but he isn't pressing hard enough to penetrate the skin. He adds more pressure, making me start to actually panic, this dude is about to actually stab me! For fun! He smirks, as if he has done this a thousand times, he pushes the tip of the knife into me, taking his sweet time, swiveling it around a bit. I inhale deeply, trying to not scream but he has a different idea, he wants me to scream. I watch him as he pushes the knife deeper, I bite my lip hard, letting out a soft cry. He slides from my face to where he is stabbing me, the weight of his head leans on my hip, I can feel his smile against me as he keeps pushing the knife in slowly all the way until it gets to the handle. Looking down at him, breathing heavily, tears cascading down my face. I am doing everything I can to not scream while he snickers watching me struggle.

“If I remove this, you might die.” he says softly, running his finger around the sore area. “If I don't you might live.”

“The knife is what is keeping all of that delicious blood inside of you.” he smiles up at me, all of his sanity has left him, leaving just this psychotic person who loves torture. “That's why if I take this out you might die. But good for you, I know what I am doing! Don't go anywhere doll, I got so much more in stock for you!”

He flicks the knife making my body jump before jumping to his feet leaving the room.  He comes back shortly, carrying a small bag. He drops it on the ground next to my face, not caring if I were to even get hit by it. Dropping to the ground he straddles me, being sure to hold down my legs in the process.  As he is focusing on holding me down I notice that there is two people peering in through the window on the door. I look up at him, slowly coming to the understanding that he is gonna pull the knife out of me. I start trying to kick, sobbing loudly, begging him to just leave me alone or kill me. Nothing I say seems to phase him, his mind focused on the only thing about to bring him joy, my pain.

“Now for the best part of this!” he hollers excitedly. He grabs the knife making me tense up, prepared to stop him but I can't since my hands are still tied behind my back. Leaving no time for panic he rips the knife from my stomach, my whole body tensing up so much the muscles in my calves tighten up and I can no longer move my legs without being in more pain. My scream is so painstakingly loud it is echoing throughout the whole building we are in. I start to hear the voices of his partners, curiously wondering what he is doing to me, they are trying to get a good view but can't. They are laughing though, going on about his torture methods, naming the things he could be doing but nobody bothers to come in the room to find out. While he stares intently at the bleeding wound I try to move but can't, my arms are too weak, my legs are being held down by him. His finger tips dance around the wound before he shoves them into the wound, making me scream again. Watching closely as he pulls them out and licks the blood off I cringe backwards. He smirks once again, he easily takes his hand and starts dipping the tips of his fingers back into the blood. I close my eyes, terrified he is gonna play in the wound again. Instead I feel him touching my stomach again but it feels like he is trying to tickle me. Opening my eyes I look down, his eyes are focused on the smiley face he is drawing in my blood.

He goes to press the knife to a different part of my stomach, but I plead for him not to do it again, I am squirming, trying to get away from him. My whole body shaking violently beneath him, my chest clenching. I close my eyes since the room is spinning all around me, and I am becoming short of breath. I try to sit up gasping for breath, making him jump off of me, backing up. Hope is in his eyes waiting for me to take my last breath. But I force myself to stay up as I try to breathe slowly. He cautiously walks back over, but I slide myself away from him, weeping through what little breaths I can take. I am shaking my head, pleading with him to not come near me again.

“Please.” I wail, starting to feel dizzy again. “Please don't.”

He drags me by my legs over to him, he lays on me not caring if he gets blood all over himself, wiping to the tears off my face with his bloody hands. “Oh darlin', don't cry. I didn't mean to hurt you too bad. I'll patch you right up.”

He goes right to work, ripping open the bag he brought in, pulling out unfamiliar items. I shut my eyes tightly as soon as he pulls out a needle, trying to let myself be taken to somewhere else. He pats down the area before sticking the needle through the wound. Is he stitching me up?

After he covers up the wound in some substance that burns so bad  (I could shoot myself and that wouldn't hurt half as much) he places a lot of gauze over top of it and tapes it all down. But the smiley face is still there in dried blood, he literally avoided it so it would still be there. I can feel him playing around in the small amount of blood that is left on my stomach over cleaning it up. He must really like blood. He gets up quickly snatching something from his bag and laying back down half way on me. I watch closely as he shows me a razor blade, I inhale deeply, tears forming again.  Precisely he is carving around below my rib-cage, hiding what he is doing until he is done, and when I look down, the name Ambrose is written out in neat cursive. The lines are slowly forming blood bubbles but he goes over the lines again but this time going deeper. My body tensing up every time I feel the razor re-enter my body. His bright blue eyes meet mine curiously, as if he waiting for me to question his methods. He smiles childishly, still waiting for my comment.

“Now, you're mine.” he explains softly, a smile tracing his lips as if trying to lighten the mood. Ambrose bites his lip smirking contently.


I am standing, my hands tied above my head. I am suspended just high enough to where the tips of my toes can touch the floor but I still sway back and forth. Ambrose has been playing around with all sorts of knives the last few hours. Seeing how deep he can go or how the cuts look, just to make me bleed really. My eyes can barely stay open, I keep nodding off but every time I hear a noise I jolt awake looking around to make sure he isn’t coming back. That doesn’t include the other activities he’s done when nobody else is around. I’ve never felt more pain before, my stomach keeps cramping, and I swear my whole body is going numb.

“How is she?” I hear his voice rounding the corner, a couple of people, who I now know as Mike and Greg, following him.

“Blood loss is fairly significant. But she is alive.” Mike stops in front of me shaking his head. Mike was telling me about how he wants to help me escape, he hates seeing Ambrose toy with people like this. But I don’t believe him, he could easily be lying to me to get my guard down. He is Ambrose’s right hand man, closest man to him, I’ve watched their interactions. Ambrose trusts him more than anyone else here.

“Poor baby.” Ambrose pouts, caressing my cheek. Looking up at him our eyes lock, he briefly shows a true expression of true concern but it goes right back to his hard angry regular expression. Dropping my head in his hands due to having no strength I feel him stand there for a moment before telling everyone else to leave. They do, not questioning him at all. Instantly he gets to work undoing the knots he created to keep me suspended.

“You are not allowed to die on me, I am not done with you.” he whispers as he picks me up bridal style, laying me on the metal table he kept all of his weapons on. He is mumbling to himself about something and a plan, but when I look at him he sighs in defeat. Pulling out a phone he dials some number and lays the phone next to my ear, leaving it on speaker. He walks away just as the call is answered.

“911 what is your emergency?” a lady’s voice is over the phone. I don’t say anything, I just lay there unable to find the words.

“Hello?” she sounds a little more concerned.

“Help me.” I cry a little bit. “Please. My name is Vivian Carson.”

© Copyright 2019 Gabi Marie. All rights reserved.


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