"I've killed before; what makes you think I wouldn't do it again?"

When Spencer is offered a chance at her own place, she jumps at it without a second thought about the previous owner's dark past. It isn't until four masked guys bang down the door to her new apartment and drag her off for a ransom that she's forced to face the consequences of someone else's choices, at the hands of NYC's most notorious gang. Can she convince them that they've made a mistake, before the darkness consumes her?

Growing up in foster homes on the wrong side of the city Justin Bieber has learned a thing or two about mistakes, and how to keep yourself from repeating them. It's simple really; you get rid of the problem, before it gets rid of you. So why can't he get himself to make this one go away?

"Nothing's completely good or bad, because one can't exist without the other - just like the dark needs the light to survive."

Are you ready for the darkness to take over?


4. The Caged

3. The Caged

// Spencer // 




It’s completely dark, even as I feel like I’m floating on air and might die any second; fall out of the sky on a direct crash course towards earth. Everything feels light, like I’m cut off from myself in the darkness.

There’s a weird smell in the room around me; like rotten wood and wet dirt all at the same time. It’s a sharp contrast to the sickening sweet taste lingering in mouth.

I try to lift my arm, but it doesn’t move. Frustrated I try the other, but still nothing happens. Then I focus on my eyelids, hoping that the smaller task will be more successful. First nothing happens; it feels like my eyes have been glued closed, but as I continue to focus a fluttering starts to happen, and with great struggle my eyes flutter open, revealing more darkness. But this one is different; it’s not as complete, not as black, as the one before it. Small cracks in the wall on the opposite end of the room allow for a small amount of light to escape into the room, and then there’s black hole at the top of wall beside me, casting the room in a dirty glow. 

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to my surroundings, but when they do I realize that the cracks in the wall are the border of a door, and the black holes are in fact windows at the top of the walls, seemingly covered in black plastic. Presumably to keep the light out or the content within away from prying eyes. 

The content being me. I’m tied to a chair, much like back in my apartment, but the ropes around my wrists, securing my hands behind the back of the chair, feels tighter. They must have untied me before they logged me out of the apartment, and then retied me here, where ever here is.

The sickening sweet taste returns, making me grimace. I wonder what they used to subdue me, and for how long I was gone. 

My thought’s don’t stray further when there’s a clearing of a throat, clueing me in on the fact that I’m not alone. 

My eyes search the darkened room, until they find what they’ve been looking for.

There’s a guy in the room. 

My captor; the one from the apartment? 

I can’t tell.

He’s leaning against the wall close to the door; the only exit in this hell hole it seems. 

Even with the small amount of light in the room I can see him clearly. The smug smirk pulling his lips upwards in an animal like half sneer half smirk, as he takes me in; drowsy, tied down and completely at his mercy. His blonde hair is slicked back, looking to contain a sickening amount of greasy to hold it down. He’s wearing a button down shirt, ruffled over his black jeans. The irony of his choice of outfit doesn’t pass me by. He’s an odd combination of the mess I’m finding myself in and something smooth and clean - almost like he’s trying to present himself like something he’s not; trying to cover up the faults in the foundation. But the fancy shirts and the blinding smile can only conceal so much, it’ll never be able to erase the scars beneath it.

“Looks who’s awake,” he snarls, pushing away from the wall and taking a step closer to me. His voice is like ice, piercing me through to the bone. Immediately I know; he’s new. 

It’s his the ice in his voice, but even more so the look he gives me as his eyes take their sweet time traveling my length, bruised and bound in the chair. It makes my stomach churn.

The guy from earlier had been cold and distant, his voice filled with mockery and his eyes brimming with amusement, but even that couldn’t come close to the disgust shooting chills up and down my spine, as this guy takes another step closer to me. 

I wonder briefly if this is the guys from earlier’s leader, or if it’s just another low ranking creep. Or maybe they’ll all take turns with me, until I finally give them what they want. 

He had asked for money, but I have none. And even if I did these vultures are out of right and reason to demand it from me.

The guy takes a third step in to the room, the distance between us getting increasingly shorter, and in turn making the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. The closer he gets, the wider his predator like grin spreads on his thin lips, giving away to two rows of yellowed teeth. 

“They’ll find me,” I spit, partly to get the sickly sweet taste out of my mouth, but mainly because I’m hoping that a few of the stray droplets might hit him and wipe the smirk off of his face. 

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I was you sweetness,” he tells me, his voice like a rough purr, as if he takes pleasure in watching me tied down in front of him. “Take a look around; this place is as tight as it gets. They won’t even hear you scream.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh sweetness, I want to do a whole hell of a lot of things to you,” he tells me, as he steps closer, his voice filled with unwarranted promises. “But lucky for you it’s not about what I want.” 

“Who sent you?”

At that he throws his head back and offers me a rough cackle that sounds like he’s been digging through one too many packs of cigarets for breakfast. “Sweetness, I offered. It’s not everyday that we get fresh meat around here,” he tells me, his growl matching his predator grin, as he reaches two fingers up to my face and starts stroking them against my cheek. 

I jerk away, pulling at my restraints to get away from him. When all it earns me is another cackle and another one of his attempts at touching my face, I draw my head back and take aim, before I fire off another round of spit, this one landing solid square just above his lip.

He stills, his jaw slightly agape and his eyes wide open, trained on me. I watch as his eyes, before filled with teasing sexual suggestions, glaze over with pure venom.

“You bitch,” he sneers, as he draws back and before I can dug, land a hard palm on my cheek, the sound of the collision ricocheting off the walls. 

It leaves my cheek stinging and throbbing, but I won’t let him see me in pain, despite the redness forming in my cheek. So I straighten back up, my eyes meeting his again without a trace of emotion, as I snarl at him: “How original.” With that he retreats towards the door, without a second glance back at me.

“You’ll pay for this,” he growls, as he rips the door open, offering me only a short glimpse of the room beyond, matching this one in lightening and interior, but with a single staircase leading upwards. Then he slams the door shut behind him and I hear the clatter of chains and a lock twist in the key, as I mumble: “aren’t I already paying?” to no one but myself.

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