Kidnapped Ch. 05

Christine glanced back at the bed, holding her breath. It would be just like Damien to have let her get this far only to dash her hopes. But no, he was still motionless, secure in his belief that she was trapped. She felt a flash of smugness, thinking of how furious he would be, with her long gone. 'Don't get ahead of yourself,' she chided internally. There were still at least four more of them she had to sneak past. She wondered if it was day or night. There were no windows, and she had no idea if vampires were indeed nocturnal like in legends. She hoped it was day. She needed a crowd to disappear into.

She cast one final look over the room before slipping past the door, easing it shut behind her. She looked back and forth. She was standing in a hallway, dark enough that the passage disappeared into shadows long before the presumed end. She hesitated, undecided, praying for something to tell her where to go. But it remained deathly still and silent, so she slowly turned left. She walked gingerly across the carpeted floor, wincing with each quiet step. She held her breath, trying to calm her breathing. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and every shadow looked almost human. She grit her teeth, glaring into the blackness. She'd never been afraid of the dark, and she wouldn't start now, with so much at stake. But then again, she'd never believed in vampires either.

She could see one or two doors to her right and left, but she didn't dare try them, instead choosing the relative safety of the empty hallway. She saw a slight light ahead, and her anxiety doubled. How far away could they hear her breathing, her heart? She tried to think back to how Damien acted, but she had been too afraid to have paid attention. She cursed herself for not preparing better. She forced her feet forward, pressing herself to the wall as a turn came into view. She froze for what felt like an eternity. She knew she only had so long until Damien woke up, but she couldn't seem to make herself peek around the corner. She listened intently, but could hear nothing, not that that meant much. 'Maybe I should just go back.' Her frightened mind now was wavering. Was escape worth the probable pain of capture? What did she even have back home anyways? 'Freedom,' she thought. 'You had freedom.' Damien's arrogant face flashed through her mind. She would NOT be his captive forever. That decided her.

She tentatively peeked the tiniest amount around the corner, and slowly slipped into what looked like a large living room. There were couches surrounding an empty fireplace, and a few bookshelves. The light came from a small chandelier that lowly lit the room. She let out hushed exhale of relief. The room was empty. Now she berated herself for the time wasted hiding around the corner. How long did she think she had? Damien could wake any minute!

With that in mind, she hurried across the room to a large door on the far side. She pulled it open, freezing at the loud click it made. She knew it was an illusion, but it seemed impossible that no one could hear the seemingly deafening sounds. She stared up at a long, wide staircase leading upwards. It ended at another, decidedly less decorated door. Looking back briefly, she slipped through and ran lightly up the staircase. She pressed her ear to the door and, hearing nothing, turned the knob. Locked. For a moment she cursed her bad luck, before hesitating. Locked meant secret, forbidden. A locked door could be her way out. She quietly tried simply forcing the knob to turn with all her might. It was a normal wood door, and she thought she could break it down, but she couldn't do so without being caught. She thought that picking the lock would work, but she had no idea where to start, particularly since she didn't have anything to pick a lock with. She decided, if she ever got out of this, to always wear hairpins in the future. She darted back down the stairs and glanced around, getting more and more tense every second. She hurried over to a desk at the far end of the room, rifling through the drawers. Paper, pens, and what looked like a diary. She paused for a moment, curious. She would feel ridiculously satisfied reading their deep dark secrets. She shoved away the idea: it was juvenile, and she didn't have the time in any case. Then she gave an internal cry of victory. Paperclips! She grabbed the small box and ran back through the room and up the stairs. She knelt by the door and unfolded two of the paperclips. She pushed one into the lock at the bottom, and poked the second in above it. She wriggled the clips around, to no avail. She tried to work them farther in, getting more and more frustrated. She pulled them out and tried reshaping her lock pick. After ten minutes of trying, she was almost in tears. She pressed her cheek to the floor next to the crack beneath the door, and she swore she could feel a draft. That decided her. She ran back down the stairs and grabbed one of the iron from next to the fireplace. A makeshift crowbar would hopefully go unheard. She headed back up the stairs, but froze halfway up as she heard the murmur of approaching voices. Despite herself, she let out a gasp of terror, and the voices stopped abruptly. Abandoning the fire iron, she bolted up the stairs and threw herself against the door. 'No no no no,' she panicked as she fell back, the door remaining closed. She slammed into the door twice more, looking down the stairs. Just as a face appeared, there was a loud crack, and Christine tumbled down onto pavement.

She immediately leapt to her feet, fear and joy battling within her. She was in an alley somewhere, but she was out! Judging by the light, it was very early morning, long before anyone was awake. She cursed internally, bolting down the alley towards what she hoped was somewhere she would be visible to others. She heard footsteps behind her, now multiple pairs, but she didn't dare look back. She tore around a corner onto a larger, but still deserted and dark, street; wherever she was, it certainly wasn't a nice neighborhood. She sprinted faster, her fear giving her strength. Dashing across the street, she followed the sounds of what seemed to be club or bar. 'People,' she thought desperately. 'All I have to do is find people, and they can't get me.'

Coming around another street corner, she saw the glowing lights and music that seemed to be a small, rundown bar. She ran towards the door, but skidded to a stop at the security guard standing in her way.

"Sorry, but we've had way too many teenagers down here gettin' us in trouble."

"What?! No, NO! I just, just need to get--" She could barely speak through her gasps and fear. She looked back, scanning the street, but couldn't see anyone but a few guys smoking in a dark corner. She turned back to the guard, trying to push past him.

"Please," she begged. "I just need a phone or something. I don't even know where I am!"

"Great." he muttered under his breath, before glaring at her. "I told you, get moving. I am sick of all you privileged little girls coming down here and bringing the cops with you!"

"Privileged?!" she protested angrily.

"Look at at you," he crossed his arms. "You think anyone down here could afford your fancy clothes? Go back to your private neighborhoods where you belong!"

She glanced down at herself. Fuck, she was wearing clothes Damien gave her. Expensive, designer clothes. Damn it all to hell. A large group of people in their twenties stumbled out of the bar, laughing and yelling, oblivious to Christine and the even more irritated guard behind her. She saw her chance and shoved into the group, walking with them, praying that she wasn't being followed. She couldn't stop looking all around, even though she was never going to be able to see anything in the dark streets. The group turned down another street. A car honked as the group blundered through the road laughing. Christine breathed a sigh of relief as she started seeing more and more lights and population. Maybe she really would get home! She promised herself to never again take her life, her freedom, for granted. Then she panicked. The group was wandering down a tiny side street, away from the main road. NO! She needed to be around people, not wander further away. She paused. Should she abandon her cover of people and run for the road, maybe flagging down a car? No, no. She was far too afraid. She spun back, and sped up, trying to catch up to the group now a little ways ahead of her. She cursed her hesitation and stumbled to catch up with them. In her haste, she tripped and fell, scraping her knees and hands, barely avoiding falling on her face. Her hand burned; it had landed on broken glass, and there was blood running down her arm. She ignored the pain, and pulled herself to her feet, now fully running towards the group.

She let out a sudden cry as something slammed into her side, throwing her against the cold brick wall. Noo! She went to scream, but a hand clamped painfully over her mouth. She refocused her eyes onto the face of her captor. What the hell?! The furious pale eyes weren't Damien's, they belonged to the hateful woman from before. Kat.

"You little bitch," Kat sneered the words, looking the worst combination of loathing and triumphant. "You think you had it bad with Damien?"

Kat grabbed her hair, twisting hard until pain was screaming through Christine. Christine stopped trying to struggle, instead leaning her head as far as it would go, trying to ease the pull. Against her will, tears began pouring down her face in terror and helplessness. She was so close, so close to escape.

Kat released her except for the iron grip on her hair, and started to drag her out of the alley.

"DANE!" she spat. Christine felt arms grab her roughly, yanking her to her feet by her arm, wrenching her shoulder back. She screamed in pain, unable to breath through her horrible sobs. She was thrown roughly over Dane's shoulder, and felt him break into a run, the street blurring on either side of her. A minute later, she was tossed roughly onto the floor, her sobs increasing as she recognized the living room of her prison.

She dragged her body away from the two figures standing above her.

"Ooh no," she heard Kat's mocking, grating voice. She looked up just as she was dragged upwards by her neck, Kat's nails digging viciously into her throat. She could feel the blood dripping down, and the back of her head was still throbbing from the impact against the bricks. She'd never been in so much pain in her life.

"Finally," Kat's voice was sadistically pleased. "Finally, I can rip your pathetic head from your pretty little shoulders..." she dug her fingers in harder, baring her fangs. She wasn't choking Christine; she'd chosen the far more painful route of shoving her nails deeper and deeper into the tendons and muscles in Christine's throat.

"...and finally be rid of Damien's neverending obsession with humans!"

She spat the last word furiously like it was poison, as though the very idea of humanity was repulsive and loathsome. Through the dizzying pain, Christine wondered why Kat wasn't biting her. She brought her hands up and yanked pitifully at Kat's arm.

'No please no,' she couldn't even vocalize her pleas anymore, just begging in her mind. 'Someone please help me.'

Already on her toes from the slim vampire holding her up, she began to grow too weak to support herself, her entire weight now held up by Kat's one hand, sending her fingers even deeper into Christine's flesh. Christine didn't mind as much now, everything was blurring, and she couldn't really feel the pain anymore. She knew her eyes were open, but the edges of her vision were going black.

*THUD* She registered faintly that she was now crumple on the ground, that Kat had released her. She could hear distantly some sort of shouting and snarling, but she couldn't bring herself to pay attention. She felt something grab her abruptly, and she came back to awareness to try and move a bit, attempting to put her hand on the ground to push her head up. All she managed was a slight movement of her hands, slipping through a large puddle of liquid that she absently recognized as her own blood. Her eyes half opened and were met by a beautiful pale face with dark gaze glaring down at her furiously.

'Damien...' was her last thought before her lids fluttered closed and everything went black.