Hurricane Boy // h.s au

12.

"...She slipped away from the damaged soul once, hoping that she would never have to cross paths with him again.
But now that he has the power, Even if he has to wrap her up in chains, he intends to make sure that with him, the doe eyed girl will forever stay."
– (via tumblr)

It was raining, and hard.

Her eyes were tightly shut, her heavy, sleep-ridden eyelids making them almost impossible to open. She felt motion under her feet, the sound of cars passing every once in a while meshing with the quiet crackling of what sounded like a radio beside her. She attempted to wriggle her fingers and toes, tried to will her body to make any sort of motion, but it was proven to be futile. But it was then that she began to recall the events that took place leading up to this moment.

His cold hand clamped around her bruising wrist, the putrid scent of the chloroform cloth pressed against her nose and lips, his black, stormy eyes staring straight into her wide frantic ones, lulling her desperate sobs into quiet whimpers.

Her eyes jolted open.

She looked down to find her wrists and ankles each bound together with rope. She was in the passenger seat of a car, of his car, zooming down an almost empty freeway. It was storming outside, lightening occasionally flashing across the windshield, briefly illuminating her reddened, peeling skin scratching against the harsh material of the rope. Tears pooled around her eyelids as she realized the situation she was in. 

Her eyes slowly drifted from her hands, to his, leading up to his face, which was concentrated on the road in front of them. Again, the lightening flashed, light pouring and splashing against the somber expression stricken so harshly across his features. 

"Where are you taking me?" she said. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, hoarse and tired from the screaming she'd done so much of before she'd blacked out.

Almost immediately, he turned his head to face her, his expression completely changing to one of immense happiness as he was pulled out of deep thought. 

"You're awake," he observed.

He was off, more off than usual. His face was gleeful but his body was restless, jittery, motions frantic and quick. His eyes were wide, glazed over, ablaze with a striking forest green color to them. Shivers ran up her spine.

"Harry," Juniper carefully said, still eyeing him as he once again turned to face the road, "Please, please stop the car and untie me."

A few seconds of silence passed, and she almost thought he didn't hear her. But suddenly, he laughed.

"I can't do that, flower, you know I can't." 

His voice wasn't condescending or angry as she'd expected it to be, but soft, tender, sweet, even. He was acting as though they were simply having casual conversation, acting as though everything was perfectly normal, acting as though he wasn't trying to kidnap her after she'd tried to run away from him.

For some reason, this caused a sudden all-encompassing unbridled rage to ignite her senses. Tears rushed out, faster and hotter, her face heating up with every second that passed by.

"I said stop the fucking car," she screamed.

Her panicked voice spliced across the peaceful atmosphere of the car, his eyes once again meeting hers. First, in surprise, then, in profusely darkened rage. 

"Do not raise your voice at me," he lowly warned. 

"Stop the car," she screamed again. He was unstable, angry, and jittery. She knew that, and she knew her provoking him was probably a bad idea, but she didn't care. She needed to get out of this situation, and fast. And so she screamed it, again, this time thrashing her arms and legs against the window.