Page 2 of Dark Knight

2

Evie

My forehead slammed into the metal of the trunk as the car accelerated unexpectedly. When Sampson brought me down to the garage, I expected to be in the back seat, but I was relegated to the trunk. Not only that, but I was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Even if I wanted to try to get out, or try to somehow signal somebody that I was being taken against my will, I had no way to do so.

The worst part was that the trunk smelled of piss, shit, and vomit. Not strongly, but just faintly enough that I knew I wasn't the only person he had transported this way. Though maybe bodies instead of people was a better way of putting that.

I flexed my fingers. With the way my hands were bound behind my back, I couldn't get enough circulation. My fingertips were going numb, leaving me with the pins and needles sensation.

He braked, and I rolled toward the back. I felt a little bit like a hot dog on a grill in a gas station. Sampson wasn't exactly a smooth driver. Aggressive may have been a better way to put it. With me not being able to brace myself, I was stuck rolling back and forth. I probably would have cried if my body thought it could spare the moisture. A knot of tears were stuck in my throat, but I couldn't quite let the emotion escape. I focused on the fact that the last thing I wanted was a soggy blindfold wrapped around my head.

Finally, after what could have been five minutes or five hours, the car came to a stop. I had been transported in the same nondescript, tan sedan he first took me in. Four doors. Generic shape. Something that people would see but not look at, a car that would pass into their subconscious. It wasn't excessively beat up, but it wasn't brand new either.

I'd been able to tell all of that before the blindfold was put on me the first time. Now, as I heard the engine die and the driver's side door open, I braced myself for what was about to happen. The fierceness with which Sampson slammed the driver's side door closed shook the car.

I listened to his footsteps as he rounded the corner and moved toward the trunk. There was a soft click, and even though I was blindfolded, I knew the light changed. It went from complete darkness to something else. I wouldn't quite say that it was light, but I could see the edges of my blindfold now.

Rough hands grabbed me by the bindings around my wrists and ankles, hoisting me up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I could have struggled, but there wouldn't have been any point. It wasn't like if I got off his shoulder, I would somehow magically be able to run away. With the way I was bound, there was no way for me to move.

"Your name?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Sterling." The name sent a shudder through me. I was fairly certain that Sterling wasn't Sampson's last name, but it was Lyric's last name, and he was trading on that somehow. As far as I gathered, Lyric's father was Sampson's employer.

"Room 113," the other voice said.

There was a grunt and then we moved forward again. My stomach rocking against Sampson's shoulder with each step made me want to vomit down his back, but thankfully, my body refused to give up the little food I'd consumed in the last few days.

Instead, I was just drooling.

The ball gag that he stuffed in my mouth didn't exactly make it easy to control that. We walked for much longer than I expected, turning this way and that to the point that I lost all sense of direction. Sampson shifted his weight. I heard the soft, electronic click of something that reminded me of a hotel door or the entrance to my dorm building.

I'd only ever stayed in a hotel once before, and it had been a pretty momentous occasion for me. A lot of the sounds were engraved in my mind, particularly the sound of that type of door being unlocked.

A rush of cold air swept over my skin as we walked into this new room, and I heard the door ease itself shut behind us. I was unceremoniously dumped on the ground a moment later. The feeling of carpeting surprised me. I pushed onto my knees, kneeling with my hands still bound behind me. Taking a deep breath, I tried my best to just be calm.

The sound of a chain rattling made my stomach drop, though. With the carpet muffling Sampson's steps, I didn't expect for him to be in front of me when he reached out and grabbed me. I jerked away from him on instinct. He wound one of his hands through my hair, grabbing a good chunk of it and pulled, yanking me forward.

Without my hands in front of me, I had no way of bracing myself for the fall, so it was only his hand in my hair that prevented me from face-planting on the carpet. He dragged me a few feet that way. My scalp may as well have been on fire the entire time. The feeling of cold, smooth metal being placed around one of my wrists let me know that I was being handcuffed again. However, the cuff only went around one wrist. He didn't bother with the second. A moment later, Sampson tugged at the rope he used to bind me in the car, undoing the knots that had left me helpless until now. After he was done with my hands, he did my feet and put another cuff around my ankle.

Sensation began to rush back to my fingertips, and I was beyond grateful for it, even if it hurt like hell for a while. I knew that pain would fade.

Next, my blindfold was removed and then finally the ball gag. Sampson towered over me, blocking any view of the room, looking like some kind of demon with all of the black leather he wore.

"Open your mouth."

I did as he asked, knowing I had no other choice. If I refused, he would just forcibly open it for me or put me in a chokehold and make me blackout, in which case he would do whatever he wanted. He withdrew a small, pale-pink pill from his pants’ pocket. Instinctively, I closed my mouth, my teeth snapping shut from the force of it.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he grunted.

It was a fight to get my body to obey, but eventually, I was able to get my jaw to drop just enough for my mouth to open. Sampson's hand was like a flash of lightning in the corner of my eye as he gripped my lower jaw and pried my teeth apart even further. His other hand, which was holding the pill, darted forward just as quickly, shoving it so far back in my throat that I gagged.

"You want something to swallow that down with?" he asked. His face was completely blank, not giving any indication as to whether or not this was some kind of test or trap.

It was the first small bit of kindness that he had shown me, though. I coughed and spluttered, fighting with the pill that seemed to be lodged in my throat. Somehow, I managed to nod my head. Just the idea of drinking water was luxurious to me at that point.

When his hand moved to his belt, my stomach dropped. The other hand still held my jaw, his forefinger and thumb pressing between my teeth so I couldn't shut my mouth completely. I was tempted to try anyway, but I knew that it wouldn’t get me anywhere, at least not without biting a hole in my cheeks as I tried to take the tip of his finger and thumb off.

"I've been good this whole time and I've barely touched you. You're going to suck me off as a thank you, and then you'll feel real good once that pill kicks in."

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