Disclaimer: This chapter contains content involving kidnapping. It's not too bad, but I should warn you-just incase you don't like reading that stuff.

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My hands are sweaty and shaking. I cannot keep them still. Pacing back and forth through the red-painted hallway, staring at the pictures hanging along the wall, I try to keep my mind off of Vaggie. Maybe I should try remembering things of my old life, like I did when I was trying not to focus on the fact that I had been stabbed with that spear.

Vaggie fainted after I took the spear out of her stomach. Blood gushed out of the wound so fast that I didn't know if we were ever going to stop it. Charlie had a piece of torn cloth handy and tied it tight around Vaggie's torso, but it didn't do much to help. Reluctantly, Angel threw Vaggie over his shoulder and ran her back to the hotel. Day was fading into night and we saw no more exterminators on our way back to the safety of the building.

Vaggie is currently in the medical room, getting her wound stitched and bandaged. I am waiting outside, pacing, hoping that she will be okay.

I know that hoping won't help. She needs a miracle to survive that jab.

Being alone out here isn't good. The trauma of today is getting to me. Everywhere I turn, I imagine seeing the spine-chilling exterminators, ready to attack. I wish Angel were beside me, cracking stupid jokes and calling me Barbie doll, but after dropping Vaggie off, he left to go cause more mayhem outside. He asked me to come with.

I refused.

"My love?" A voice asks from behind me. I squeal, jumping about a foot into the air. I think about my Glock, about using it to shoot whoever is behind me. As if by magic, the Glock materializes in my hand. I stare down at it with shock. I just summoned my weapon.

My heart beat slows as I look up and see Alastor standing there. His face is grinning, masking the evil and bad intentions. I take some deep breaths, staring up at him. His eyes narrow, and his smile widens. Scary.

"Hi, um, Alastor." I look down at the Glock in my hand and tell it that I don't need to shoot him. It listens to my thoughts and poofs away. Interesting.

I look at Alastor again. His arms are behind his back, one of them surely holding his cane. His body is almost lanky, and observing it, I realize that I really need a hug.

So I hug him. I can hear him scoff, but I ignore it and squeeze his body against mine.

Stepping back, I feel tears in my eyes and try to ignore them. "Sorry. I just... needed that."

"I understand," he says, reaching one arm to touch my wounded one. At first, I think it's meant to be comforting, but then he grips the fresh bandages around my stab tightly. I wince.

His grip tightens further.

"Ow," I say. He just smiles. Fucking sadist.

"Come with me," he drawls, seductively. "I can give you something else you need."

My heart skips a beat. I know what he is implying. And I want nothing to do with it.

"No, I'm just fine right here. I have to wait for Vaggie," I tell him, fighting back a scream of pain.

"Then I'll give it to you right here." His eyes are sparkling, his smile witty.

"No. No no no no. No, thanks. Let go of me. Let me go, Alastor," I whine. His grip feels like a steel claw on my arm. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins, and it grosses me out. His hand feels like the little plastic pressure thing that the doctor's use to test for your heartbeat and blood flow regulations.

"Let you go?" He laughs. It's a sinister sound, and it makes me feel so damn uncomfortable. I wish I could just disappear. "Okay."

As he lets me go, he does that thing where he vanishes into thin air. I relax, letting myself breathe normally again. Whatever Alastor wanted to do with me wasn't something I wanted to participate in. I know that he has a sick mind.

Before I even have time to think, someone is grabbing my wrists, and tight. I cannot see who it is because they are coming from behind me, but I don't have the chance to turn and look, because all of the sudden, I am in a bedroom. Who's bedroom, I don't know. How I got here, I also don't know.

The pressure on my wrists is gone. Alastor appears in front of me, his expression threatening as ever. He chuckles, low and deep. I look up at him, unsure of what to do. Scream? Run for the door? Punch Alastor? No. Whatever I do, he will outsmart. The walls are probably sound proof. The door is probably locked. If I punch him, he'll punch me harder.

Alastor raises his hand. His bony, gloved hand.

He snaps his fingers.

I black out.

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My eyes open.

I try to rub my eyes, but I can't. My arms are being held down by something. I look to my right arm, then my left. My wrists have been chained to the wall. My breath quickens to a frantic level. I look down and see that my dress is not on me, but the leggings still are. My ankles are chained as well.

Although it hurts my stab wound, I try yanking my arms from the chains.

"Help! Someone, help me!" I scream. I am no longer in the bedroom, but in a concrete-floored room with dark, brick walls that hold torches to light the space. I'm almost 100% sure that nobody can hear me, but I scream anyways. I start to babble and I sob, all alone, chained in this weird dungeon place.

Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

I wonder how Vaggie is doing. Does she know I'm missing? How long have I been out? Where did Alastor go? Did he take my dress off? I'll beat that fucking kidnapping psychopath to the ground.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" I scream to nobody in particular. I shout and cry until my throat is scratched raw. Nobody comes. I am alone. All alone.

I close my eyes and decide to pray. Praying doesn't seem like something I should do, now that I am in Hell, but I do it anyway because I don't have anything better to do. I need all of the support I can get, and if God will give me help, then I'll take it.

When I open my eyes, Alastor is standing in front of me. What is it with demons sneaking up on me while my eyes are closed? Like, can't you just make a normal entrance and walk over to me while I can see you?

"Hello, my love," he says quietly, softly. "How are you?"

"Go suck a dick you cunt bag."

He nods. "An attitude. That's understandable." Alastor takes a few steps closer to me. I would sit down, but my ankles are chained so close to the wall that I can't move them at all. I have to remain standing, my face nearly leveled with Alastor's.

"I'm serious. Go suck a dick. Then choke on it and fucking die," I snap.

Alastor's intimidating grin changes. He reaches a hand up to my cheek and rubs it. I think about biting him, but decide against it. He'll probably enjoy the pain, if anything.

"You look stunning right now," he whispers, brushing my hair back. My nerves feel his hand run along the back of my neck, then around to my collar bones. Unnervingly, he feels every inch of my bare chest, and his smile doesn't fade in the slightest. "Gorgeous." Then he licks my collarbone, drags his tongue up to my lips, and stops there. I whimper a little. This is so demeaning. My lip quivers, but I stop myself from crying. Instead, I spit in his stupid face.

With dismay, I realize that his smile doesn't move.

"Fuck you," I say angrily.

I wish it wasn't Alastor who kidnapped me. I was starting to think we could be friends. Or friends with benefits. But I am not into this stuff. When I said I liked the way he looked like a walking kink, I did not mean this kind of kink.

"Oh, I know you want to, my love. We are getting there, don't worry."

In another place and time, I might want to. But not right now, not like this.

His hand trails down to my stomach, then to the edge of my leggings. I start biting my lip, causing it to bleed again. Alastor must see the blood, because he kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth and licking the red liquid from my lip. I shiver.

"I knew you would taste good," he says. I wish I could knee him in his balls. Nope, wait, he likes pain. Forgot about that.

As I'm thinking about a way to prevent the things he wants from happening, the dark room's door swings open violently. I see the chubby shadow of someone appear from the well lit hallway outside. Alastor turns to look, his hands separating from my skin.

The shadow steps in. I recognize it as Mimzy.

"Mimzy," I say, but my voice is cracking and nervous, so it doesn't carry far. I clear my throat. "Mimzy, help me please."

Stepping in further, Mimzy frowns at Alastor, then at me.

"I wasn't doing anything with her, dear. I was just going to drain her," Alastor explains pathetically.

Mimzy shakes her head, clearly flustered. "Not her, dearie. Not this one. She's too important. They would notice."

I don't understand what they mean. He said he was just going to drain me, but what does that mean? Drain my blood? Mimzy seems like this idea isn't new to her, but she told him that it shouldn't be me because I'm too important. I assume that means that she's going to let me go.

She holds out her hand before Alastor. He hesitantly hands her a silver key. My eyes are draw to the key. Will that get me out? I almost laugh with relief.

Mimzy takes the key and makes her way over to me. Ignoring my nudity, she looks me in my eyes and says, "I'm very sorry about this. He gets crazy sometimes. Trust me, this isn't the real him. I'm sure he feels very sorry, and I hope you can forgive him." Pursing her lips together, she proceeds with unlocking every single chain that binds my arms and legs.

Once I am free, I rub my hands over my bruised wrists. I know that everything she just said is a load of bull. This is the real Alastor. He doesn't feel sorry for me, not one bit. Looking right into Alastor's wide, red eyes, I sneer and shake my head. "I will never forgive him."

With that, I place my hands over my boobs and leave, not caring if anyone sees me bloody and naked and messy.

I walk through the door into the bright hallway. The walls are brown, and there is only one door. It's at the end of the hall, labeled exit at the top. I make my way to it, walking fast. I close my eyes and think about my Glock. It appears in one of my hands, my good one. I my bad arm over my chest.

Outside, the sky is dark with night, and I suddenly feel sleepy. There are many people milling about. Some fighting, some driving. Some smoking and talking quietly, others laughing and drunkenly embellishing their movements.

I look around for the hotel. Keeping my body covered, I walk out to the sidewalk and whirl around in search of the tall building. Then I see it, just a few meters over to my right. I practically glide to it. Multiple people whistle and stare at me, but I don't care. I ignore them and continue on my way. I need to know how Vaggie is.

I also need a shirt. Hah.

I burst into the common room, which is full of people. Running past all of them, I run to the medical room and open the door, not caring in the slightest if they are in the middle of a procedure.

They are not. Vaggie is sitting on a grey cot, the same exact one I woke up in when I appeared in Hell. Doctors are surrounding her, helping her drink a glass of water. She pushes one of them aside. "I can do it myself," she says to the demon. I immediately feel out of place and regret my decision to run in. The medics look at me with confused frowns. Charlie is on the other side of the room, and when she sees me, she gasps. Vaggie takes a sip of the water in her hand, and when she lowers the glass away from her mouth, she sees me.

We stare at each other for a moment. The Glock drops from my hand and clangs to the ground before poofing away.

"Danielle?"

I run up to her and scoop her into a hug, forgetting about my lack of a shirt, forgetting about the staring doctors and the stab in Vaggie's chest and the gaping cut on my arm.

I just hug her.