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Layla didn't realise that she had fallen asleep until she was roughly shaken awake by a masked man. "Wake up!" He demanded, his voice rough and his tone rude. "Get up before I throw you over my shoulder." He warned her; his eyes cold as he stared down at her. She was sure that if he wasn't wearing a mask then he would be scowling menacingly at her.

She groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Layla may have been tired but she dared not test the waters.

Words remained unsaid on the tip of her tongue as she looked up at the man. Familiar blue eyes stared back at her as he reached forward and covered her face.

"What are you doing?" She called out in desperation as she felt arms wrap themselves around her body, lifting her onto her feet. "Let me go!" She struggled but there was no use as another set of hands tied her hands together with what she presumed was rope.

Darkness surrounded her as she felt herself being led somewhere; her vision blocked by the material that he had pulled over her face.

Dragging her feet on the ground, she grunted as she felt herself being manhandled. No matter how much she struggled, her captor was stronger than her. "Please don't hurt me." Her voice was quiet and timid, hoping to gain some sympathy.

Her captor simply grunted and dragged her. "Don't start crying." He replied quietly. "You're not going to get hurt."

Layla didn't think that she could trust him but at this moment of time, there wasn't anything else she could do. There was no point fighting against him as one, he was stronger, two, he had a gun and three, she had no idea where she was.

But the first chance she got; she would run.

Perhaps if she stopped resisting then he would ease his hold on her. It was a long run, but it was the best chance she had considering the situation.

Layla didn't bother talking to the man. He didn't seem much like a talker anyway.

She found herself stumbling over her own feet as he dragged her along with him. He was pulling too hard and walking too fast considering she was wearing heels; couldn't remember the last time she had eaten and had just woken up. But she dared not complain.

"You sure chose the wrong day to be at the bank." He scoffed as he dragged her along. A draft passed over her bare legs and she shivered.

"You chose the wrong day to be robbing a bank." The words rolled off her sharp tongue and she regretted them immediately.

"You're a smart one." He chuckled and yanked her to the left.

"It doesn't take brains to figure out that you're robbing the place."

"Feisty, too." He chuckled to himself even though it was neither a joke nor funny.

"Why are you doing this?" She questioned him, not really expecting a response. The criminals and evil villains usually never answered these questions in the movies.

Right, left, right.

The man shrugged but Layla didn't see this. "You don't have to do this, you know?"

He laughed again. "I think it's too late for that, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that." She snapped at him, annoyed at his choice at pet name.

"Call you what?"

"Sweetheart." A bitter taste was left in her mouth as the word rolled off her tongue.

"Ah, a woman scorned." He clucked his tongue like an animal. Layla turned her lip up at this. "I'll tell you what, there's still a few minutes left until we reach out destination. Why don't you tell me why you don't like being called sweetheart, sweetheart?"

Left, left, right.

She was sure that if she had the vision of her eyes then she would see that he was grinning at her. Luckily, the mask worked both ways as her captor was unable to see the momentary sadness that washed over her regardless of the dire circumstances of the predicament that she had found herself in.

She cleared her throat. "My ex-boyfriend used to call me sweetheart." She found herself replying. Eh, there was nothing to lose now. She wouldn't even have to see her ex again if this man got his way.

Realisation dawned on him. "Ah, the infamous ex. I'm assuming you two are not still together?"

"No." Her answer was sharp and curt. She was uncomfortable talking about Liam. The wound was still fresh and she didn't need this stranger – this criminal, digging around in it for his own entertainment as he led her to what she assumed to be her imminent death.

"That's too bad," he sounded aloud. "If the situation were different then I would have asked you out. What do you say, sweetheart?" He asked her, chuckling. "You okay with getting a coffee with me when this is all over?"

She scoffed at that. "You're crazy." Not once believing that there was an ounce of sincerity in his voice. As if kidnapping, holding her hostage and then dragging her around wasn't enough, he was now making fun of her too.

The man threw his head back and laughed. Layla scowled at the sound. "Are we nearly there yet?" She asked, impatient, already fed up with this man.

"You're a smart girl," he repeated. "And have perfect timing too. We're here."

They came to a stop.

Layla didn't know where here was, but what she did know that she was thankful that he had eased his hold on her, even if it was just slightly. She was sure that he was determined to cut off the blood supply to her arm.

She still couldn't see anything, but she when she strained her ears and stood perfectly still, she could hear the soft hum of an engine and the hushed chatter of people talking in hushed tones. The sound travelled and judging by the fact

"What's going to happen now?" She found herself asking, hating the fact that she felt so helpless.

"We're going to knock you out and take you as collateral. A form of," he searched for the correct word, "insurance that the police won't hurt us. And then when we're done, we're going to kill you and dump your body. I guess we won't get that coffee date after all." He chuckled; the sound accompanied by others laughing. They certainly weren't concerned with being quiet anymore.

She couldn't help but laugh along with him and the others – it was more of a nervous laugh, but when she felt chills run down her spine as another hand landed on her shoulder, the sound ceased. "You're joking, right?"

"No."

Layla Abraham hated being manhandled and dragged around like a rag doll, but she hated being wacked over the head even more.

-

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19.01.20