Chapter 1

Well, this is my first proper story on FictionPress! I don't really know if it will be decent but feel free to R and R!!!

"I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry."

Isobel repeated the words over and over in her head, her own personal little mantra. Maybe if she just blocked it all out, if she just focused on those words, if she could just stay strong…?

"I will not cry. I will not cry."

She bit her lip and as she lost the last of her strength, slid down the wall which she had been leaning against, until she was sitting on the cold, hard floor of the old car park. It was wet, and her jeans were already soaking, but she couldn't have cared less. Wet jeans were the least of her problems.

"I will not cry."

She wondered if the man in front of her could feel her eyes, drilling into him. Could a person actually feel hurt, and pain and anger, if it's directed at them with enough force? It wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything wrong. If only she hadn't stormed up here. It was stupid, she know that now. Deserted car parks at midnight? It sounded like the title to some horror film. If only she could turn back the clock. Issy could remember it all so well. The argument with Lucie, the screamed insults, and the desperate rush to her doom.

"I will not..."

Issy stumbled over the words, and buried her head in her hand. Her cheek scratched against the rope that bound them, and her gaze moved along her legs to the similar constriction around her ankles. How could he have done this? This man who she didn't even know! To grab her, tie her up, muffle her screams. The only thing that prevented her calling for help was the long, sharp blade in his hand, deadly and unstoppable.

"I will…"

He was watching her now. Debating the next step of his plan, his cold grey eyes drilling into her, his lank black hair falling into his sallow face. Tall, towering over Issy, even though she wasn't small herself, and wearing non-descript black jeans and a grey t-shirt. How she hated this man, whose name she didn't know. He was standing there with such self assurance, such confidence, that Isobel wished the knife were in her possession, so she could make quick work of the smug grin.

"Come on then love," the man leered, eyes skimming over Issy's body. "Time to go. Hope you aren't fond of it here, because you won't be seeing it for a while!"

"I…I…"

It was no good. It was all moving too fast. Isobel gave in, as bitter, salty tears poured down her pale cheeks, giving away just how scared she really was. She saw his fist looming above her, and she barely had time to cower before it struck her. The world spun, she saw stars, and everything was fading, fading…then only blackness.