"Who are you, people?"
Paris stammered, staggering out of the car. Sheer fear closed in on her and Stephan.
"Get on your knees and do not say a word!" One of the men shouted as he approached them. He helped them up and led them to his car; the other two men followed behind in Stephan's car.
The drive to wherever was dead silent; in fact, Paris and Stephan were barely breathing. Thick sweats rolled down Paris's face. Her neck stayed stiff, and she focused on the dark road ahead of her. Life or death, she's about to find out.
The men communicated in strange languages, nothing understandable to any man. Like a cult, they dressed scarily, leaving no part of their body on display.
"Where are we going?" Stephan breathed, high in his fake self-confidence. Paris shot a grousing, odd look at him, speaking straight to his soul and telling him to shut the absolute fuck up!
"Shut up!" The man beside them shouted, causing them to flinch terribly.
Involuntarily, tears ran down Paris's cheek as the car halted at a small cottage.
Rashly and without humane consideration, the men pulled them down from the car.
"Move, you bloody idiots!" The man who drove shouted, kicking Stephan in the back of his knee. He tripped, but knows better than to remain there longer than a split millisecond. He got up immediately, running to catch up with Paris, who was being dragged further ahead.
They finally arrived at the cottage. Dark, quiet, smelly, and very, very cold. A building like a witch's house in the middle of a thick forest is never a good sign.
"Get inside!" Paris and Stephan were pushed in, and the door jammed immediately.
Walking a few steps away from the room where Paris and Ivan were, a phone call began between the men and two other people.
"Boys, how did it go?" The deep voice from the phone sounded into the serene darkness.
"Perfect," they responded in unison.
"Where are they?" A soft, feminine voice asked.
"The cottage's room."
"The same room?"
"Yes boss,"
"No! No! Separate them! Now!"
"Copy."
The call ended.
Seconds later, the men barged into the room. Paris and Stephan sat there, shaking in their own worlds. Paris stared into space—the thousand-yard stare. Horror engulfed her being. Little does she know—it's only the beginning.
"Stand up! You!" One of the men barked, aggressively tugging at Stephan's shirt.
A few kicks and loud struggling later, Stephan complied.
"No! No please! Don't take him away, please!" Paris trembling voice begged through the veins of her heart.
"Shut up!" The men growled back, slamming the door on her.
"No… no!" She screamed after them, closing her knees together and inching away from the overwhelming darkness.
Her swollen eyes became tired, sullen, and confused. She let her eyes go to sleep. If the demons want her, they can get her.
The men threw Stephan into another cold room, very distant from Paris's. He fell to the ground, badly bruising his skin.
Walking back to Paris's, the door was torn open as the men stood outside it, locking eyes with a frightened Paris.
"What do you want from me?" Paris finally voiced, her voice edging on death.
The men tilted their heads to the left slowly, letting out a subtle laugh.
"Nothing," they said gently, twitching their necks.
"Who sent you to me? Please let us go. I will give you anything. I beg you, please." Paris's loud crying intensified.
"Be quiet, Paris; we are not here to hurt you." One of the men replied, letting out a creepy laugh.
"Please-"
"I said shut up!" One of the men snapped, hitting his gun against the door frame.
Paris went still, her heavy breathing echoing in the silent room.
"You will be here until you learn your lesson, Paris Zander."
"W-Wh-What lesson?" She shivered, picking out her words carefully.
"Your parents know what's best for you, Paris."
"My parents? Do you know them?"
The men walked out in order; the last in line slammed the door.
"Wait! I want to speak with them, please."
The sound of creaking wood and heavy footsteps answered her.
"Hello! Can you hear me?" Paris yelled as their doorsteps grew distant. The uncomfortable calm enveloped the place once again, leaving her alone with her overthinking and intrusive thoughts.
"Stephan? Please help me." Her distinct voice reached out, all the emotions dying in her throat.
The dominant silence didn't break. Till dawn, little Paris.