Hey guys! So...this is my first story, but go hard on me! I. Want. Your. Opinion. About. This.

Sorry, I just want to know how to improve and stuff. My writing isn't really the best as you can see.

Well, actually, I have to give some of the credit to my sister, who agreed to actually help me beta read this! So thanks sis! :)

The ticking of the clock was getting on my nerves. Not only that, but my head was feeling pretty fuzzy too.

Where was I?

A blurred image came to view as I slowly blinked my eyes open. The room was actually pretty small. On the three sides of the room that I could see, the walls were a dull shade of red and bare, giving the room its empty look. A large chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, capturing the sun's rays in each crystal. A billiard table stood underneath it, eclipsed under its brilliant light. Chairs were positioned neatly by the dark mahogany door, one of which I occupied. A faint scent of liquor and cigarettes lingered in the air, its sour, burning tastes foreign to my nose.

I rubbed my eyes to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming (which I desperately hoped I was) only to have my action restrained by ropes of twine that bound me to the chair. Since struggling seemed like a pretty stupid option, I just sat there, motionless, still clueless on where I was and what to do.

So, I decided to try to calm myself down.

This is not a kidnapping, Kyra…well is it?! Gosh, who still kidnaps twenty-year-olds and expects ransom from their parents who are somewhere in the world vacationing? Ugh, the common sense of people these days.

It didn't really help much, so I tried figuring out a way of escape.

Struggling, I scavenged my pockets for any useful tools. A bent bobby pin. Nope, not sharp enough. Tissues. Not much help either. Then, my hand closed around a compact object. My face brightened: my Swiss army knife. Jackpot! It wasn't exactly strong or sharp with its blade already rusted and bent, but I had hoped it to be at least sharp enough to cut the rope. Only, I didn't get a chance to.

Shortly after procuring the knife, someone had forced the previously so still mahogany door open.

Darn it! I carefully slipped the knife into the sleeve of my shirt and looked up to see the intruders that had barged in. I was in shock.

It was my mother, mouth duct-taped, limbs bound and all. She was unconscious with a purple, swelling welt on her left cheek. I admit it scared me to know that my mom was in such a condition, but what scared me more was that big buff guy holding her like a sack of flour.

Countless tattoos decorated his arms and biceps. A fresh, rosy scar marred the right side of his face, a thick white line roped all the way down to his chin. His buzz cut made him all the uglier. Bulging underneath his grey T-shirt was a display of muscular strength and sixteen-hour workouts. His faded jeans seemed pretty baggy, but still reached his knees.

Pfft, some buff guy just trying to show off some muscles, I thought, trying to calm myself down…again.

The buff guy's gruff voice vibrated the room, "Ahhh…I see Miss Kyra is finally awake."

I blinked and scowled. Was he supposed to know my name like some stalker? Some guy…As he seemingly read my mind and probably face as well, he spoke again. "I supposed it's strange I know your name, but not so much when there's that 'welcome' sticker on you. The name's Boris by the way."

I mentally rolled my eyes. This guy was like all-talk, no action. Ha, this was going to be easy escape.

"But enough! Let's down to business, shall we?" He cackled and threw my mom-yes, my mom-across the room. I heard a sickening crunch and flinched as she fell to the floor, limp as a ragdoll, bent in all the wrong places.

"Uh…." I stand corrected.

Swallowing down my fear, I managed a little squeak that sounded slightly more demanding that I expected. "Who are and why are you doing this, Boris?"

I spat out his name like venom. He deserved it. He just tossed my mom to the ground like she was nothing!

Apparently, my fury didn't intimidate him at all. I really shouldn't be surprised. Boris chuckled in amusement. "Well how funny that you should ask, do we need a backstory for this?"

He bellowed in laughter at his own shot of humor. Seriously, this guy was dancing on my last nerve. I shut my eyes again.

Please tell me this is a dream. PLEASE tell me this is a dream, that I'll be awake in my bed so I can get away from the bad jokes and obvious imminent death. I pinched myself…no luck. Darn. Maybe this really was just my bad luck...or maybe I was completely and utterly dead asleep.

Meanwhile, Boris walked to the left wall and selected an unseen object. A newly polished pool stick that leaned casually against the dull red. I blinked again. That wasn't there before. Am I going crazy and seeing things? What the heck was going on? He chuckled then placed it back to its spot.

I could hear my voice wavering, whether in fear or fury I couldn't tell. "Uh…Boris, what are you going to do?"

"Kill your mother of course!" I hated the triumphant look on his face; the ice in his words that left my blood running cold.

"What?"

"Well, Kyra, it's a little something called revenge, not that I'd expect someone like you to know it." He laughed his same hearty laugh and brandished a small pistol.

"You're not going to shoot my Mom are you?" I could see his wicked grin.

"Ha, then what else would you do with such a fine weapon as this?"

Speechless, I gulped. This guy was insane! Mad! Un hombre loco!

"Of course, there's always some sort of motive eh?" He mused. "Well, in this case, it's just part of some unfinished business we have to take care of."

Unfinished business? What kind of unfinished business involves a freakin' gun?! This guy's going to murder my Mom and he thinks it's some sort of matter you can settle with rock, paper, scissors!

An alcohol-soured breath murmured into my ear. "So, shall we begin?"

I jumped out of my skin. How the heck was he doing that? Grabbing suddenly-there pool sticks, creeping onto me out of nowhere? This had to be some sort of nightmare.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream with a guy making terrible jokes…wasn't it?

I kept my eyes closed, listening to the thuds of Boris's footsteps, walking over to my mom.

This is just my imagination, a figment of my imagination. I will go back to whatever I was doing –wait, what was I doing before?!

The trigger clicked into place.

I suddenly remembered the rusty knife concealed in my sleeves. I pulled it out and furiously sawed at the thick ropes. One cut. Two. And...three. I was free! I jumped out of the chair and raced towards my mom.

The lights flickered off. The darkness seemed to swallow the room, I went on.

Then, there was a bang followed by a scream. I couldn't recognize the voice, though it seemed to be mine.

My eyes fluttered open.

The knife dropped.

Aha! So, there we go, just a little cliffhanger there.

So what did you think? Yeah? Eh? Meh? Please review! (It makes me happy, just saying...)

Ok, thanks for reading!