Page 29 of The Hallows Boys

I scream, swinging my hands to attempt to punch the person holding me steady, but before my fists can make contact, they’re yanked behind my back and secured by something solid and cold.

“No!” I scream, yanking back through the hold of whoever’s hands are wrapped around my head, but before I can get a glimpse of who it is, a scratchy, musty smelling sack is placed over my head.

I kick my legs, screaming my head off, just in case there’s anyone walking by on the street. Some of my kicks land, but I might as well be kicking a statue. Whoever it is doesn’t seem bothered by it, they just stay firm and strong, solid like a mountain of a person.

I pull my head back, my intention to headbutt whoever’s standing in front of me, but another set of hands wrap around my face, holding a palm over my mouth and nose on top of the sack. I scream again, trying to gain any traction I can from my teeth to bite the motherfucker, but the material of the sack is too thick, and I’m growing weak.

Not stopping my efforts, I wiggle my body, my legs, my arms, anything and everything I can to try and get away, but whoever is holding me tightens their arms around me like a vice, and holds me still.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp sting on the side of my arm. It feels like I’ve been stung by a bee, but then cold liquid starts to spread underneath my skin. As darkness takes over my mind, and my screams die out, words spoken on my very first day at Blackmore High echo around me…

“I hope you like the dark.”

* * *

My eyes fly open, but only blackness greets me. Overwhelming panic and terror have me gasping for air.

“Are you awake, Little Rabbit?” a deep voice booms around me, and I squeeze my eyes shut again on instinct as I gasp.

“Little Raaaabbit…” The voice continues its taunt. “I can hear you.”

My hands shoot out in front of me, but before I can extend my arms all the way, I make contact with something solid. I jump, pulling back a little, but when nothing has jumped out and eaten me up, I reach forward again. It’s a flat surface and feels like it might be made of wood, but it’s not smooth like a table or floor, it’s rough and textured, threatening to leave splinters in my flesh.

The rough wood must be about a foot above my body, because my arms start to ache with being bent upwards uncomfortably. My chest heaves as fear snakes its way around my lungs and squeezes, and I trace the wood until I meet a corner. The wood continues downward and meets at the bottom – where I’m lying.

I’ve been drugged, kidnapped, and trapped in a box…

A sick and twisted thought races through me, so I kick my legs softly to feel the shape of whatever I’m inside of, and my stomach sinks when I realize it’s long and rectangular.

It’s a fucking coffin.

“Let me out of here!” I scream, pounding my fists on the lid above me. I kick my legs, creating echoing bangs. When my feet start to hurt, I bend my legs and use my knees at the same time as my hands to try and get the lid off of the coffin, but it’s no use. I’m fucking trapped in here.

“Please…” I sob, tears streaming down my face endlessly. “Please… I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go, please!”

There’s no reply though, only the echoes of my panting breath and racing heartbeat fill my ears.

“Please…” I whisper, unsure if I’m talking to my captors this time, or to whatever god may be watching over me.

I cry, loud and heavy, as visions of my soon demise rush through me at uncontrollable speeds. Who knows what these freaks are going to do to me? They could be mass murderers after their next torture and kill. The thought makes a chill run down my spine as I continue to sob.

“Your begging is such a pretty sound, Sage.”

All the blood in my veins freezes over the second my name slips from their lips, because now I know this isn’t random – they know me, they targeted me, they meant to takeme.

I know there were at least two people in the cemetery, maybe even three… The Hallows Boys?

There’s no way – they wouldn’t have drugged me and taken me for some silly little high school game; this has to be bigger than them. They don’t seem smart enough to pull off something as intricate as this.

The voices have been unrecognizable so far, almost like they’re using some sort of voice changer to disguise themselves. They were deep and almost robotic, telling me that this has been planned and plotted beforehand to perfection. They knew every step to make, every single fucking detail probably precise and perfected.

“Are you ready to play, Little Rabbit?” a voice whispers, still using the voice changer.

I cry in answer, scared shitless. My voice is strained from screaming, and my fists and feet hurt from banging against the lid of the coffin. My body is so tight and tense from adrenaline that every inch hurts.

I start to think about how much I’ve taken for granted in life. How I let anger and resentment for my parents fill me up so high that it spilled over onto my grandmother. She took me in, gave me so much comfort and love, and what did I give her in return? A snotty, angry girl who stormed out of the house when she just wanted to help.

I had the chance to make something of myself after my parents’ death. Sure, I was moved out of my comfort zone, but I could have been a little less bitchy and bratty about it.

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