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Description

Emily watched horrified as Dawn was packed into the blue box. When the lid was fitted over the top and the idolized reporter disappeared from sight, tears began to stream from Emily's eyes. She had been trying to wriggle free in order to reach the cell phone but the metal cuffs just ground against the rusty pipe, biting into the tender flesh of her delicate wrists. It was no use. How was she ever going to slip free and call for help before the goon finished his malicious work with poor Dawn? The responsibility to do something, to make something happen weighed heavily upon her slight shoulders. Emily moaned softly into the rotten leather gag. It chaffed the sides of her mouth resulting in a rawness that burned as she sought respite from the restraint.

"And now I guess there's you," the goon spoke. Even though his back still faced Emily, she knew that he was referring to her. The fact made the blood run chill through her veins. She tried to make herself small, crouching back down but there was nowhere to go. The muscles in her legs had grown cramped from the restrictions of her predicament. She awkwardly raised herself back into a standing position, only to realize with mounting frustration that that was no better. Her arms tugged at the bonds with a "clink clink clink" and round the circle of no relief she went.

"Would you like to get off that pipe young lady?" the goon asked at the sound of her tugging. Emily squinted her eyes in distrust, breathing heavily through her nose. She wanted this very badly. Her body was sore from mistreatment, but she feared him getting closer. Not waiting around to get a straight answer from a gagged schoolgirl sleuth, the goon approached Emily, fishing a small key from his jacket pocket. Her eyes caught it, lingered on it, longed for what it could do for her. When he reached past her with the key leading his hand, she tried to be courageous but flinched anyway.

The gears in the cuff securing her right hand clicked and tumbled free. She instinctively pulled her wrist forward, rubbing the chafe skin on the soft material of her green sweater against her hip. Emily brought her left arm forward, still locked in the now dangling cuffs. She twisted and rotated her wrist encouraging circulation to return. Despite the danger transpiring, she felt relieved to be free of that frightening rusty pipe. The growing sensation caused her hand to reach toward the rotten leather gag biting into her mouth. No sooner had her slender fingers touched the coarse material than the goon sprang to action.

"Ah ah ah!" he warned coming up behind Emily with sudden velocity. She squeaked into her gag as the vicious baton came up around her, stopping at her throat. The density of the weapon could be felt by the pulse in her delicate neck. He held it there in a relaxed, but unambiguous choke hold. "And let's just take care of this here," he said grabbing at her free wrist. Instinctively it squirmed and scattered, but when his hand grabbed her elbow and increasingly squeezed, she stopped her little game. Tick tick tick! The cuff closed back over her wrist, securing her arms behind her back.

"Now, why don't we have a little chat, what do you say?" The goon grabbed Emily's long red ponytail and gave it an impatient yank. She sobbed into the leather gag and felt her knees go weak. Her body begged to drop down but he would not release her hair. The pressure in her scalp forced her to find the willpower to stay on her feet. Emily nodded her head, careful not to exacerbate the tug on her poor hair.

"Good, good. I'm glad that you agree. And I imagine that you would like to get back to your dorm room Miss Lockwood? Perhaps write about this little adventure in your diary?" When Emily gave no response, the goon yanked hard against her ponytail, causing her body to seize in fear. "Isn't that right?" he repeated annoyed. Emily gave a tiny nod while tears began streaming down her cheeks. She had never been more afraid in her life than right now.

"Well, I would like to send you back to Greenfield Academy in one piece as well. As for writing about this in your diary? I've never been too much a fan of your stories... too much... fiction. You come off sounding a little self righteous, and you paint the bad guys as... well... bad." As the goon spoke in her ear, Emily quietly whimpered, heart hammering beneath her sweater.

"I can't say I blame you. You are a school girl, you don't necessarily understand these things. But the problem is, you are nosy, and you like to think you know what is right. You have made things very difficult for Dr Moore. He nearly lost his practice because of your shenanigans, and his daughter, your friend, is now in juvenile detention because of you. Now I would like to think you are a sensible young lady Miss Lockwood. I imagine you now realize that you do not fully understand the research surrounding formula CXSE-W1, and that perhaps Dr Moore should be free to continue his work without worrying about a meddlesome brat poking around his business? And as tempting as this will all be to write about in a story, I am going to guess that if I remove these handcuffs and set you on your way back school, that you are not going to do that. No... I think you are going to be a smart little teenage girl Miss Lockwood. I think, you will get home and take a hot shower, make yourself a cup of hot tea, then curl up in your bed, snuggled in your pajamas. If you get the urge to be a little journalist... poke your nose into some place it belongs."

"Write about pantyhose in your diary. That's what teenage girls fuss and fret over. Heck, maybe you can even get tights removed from Greenfield's required dress code. I bet you'd be a real hero to all those girls, Miss Lockwood." The goon chuckled as he mocked the importance and minimal effect that Emily had as a sleuth.

"Fashion and boys Miss Lockwood. It's a less dangerous line of work for a girl like you. Stick to what you are good at... before it's too late," the goon nodded toward the lidded blue box. Emily let out a moan at his implication. Oh Dawn! What am I going to do!? she thought to herself in growing despair.

"Now, when I release you, do you promise to be a good girl?" the goon snarled into Emily's ear, holding her hair tightly. Frightened by the danger of the baton held to her neck, she gave a short rapid series of nods.

To be continued...

Description

Emily watched horrified as Dawn was packed into the blue box. When the lid was fitted over the top and the idolized reporter disappeared from sight, tears began to stream from Emily's eyes. She had been trying to wriggle free in order to reach the cell phone but the metal cuffs just ground against the rusty pipe, biting into the tender flesh of her delicate wrists. It was no use. How was she ever going to slip free and call for help before the goon finished his malicious work with poor Dawn? The responsibility to do something, to make something happen weighed heavily upon her slight shoulders. Emily moaned softly into the rotten leather gag. It chaffed the sides of her mouth resulting in a rawness that burned as she sought respite from the restraint.

"And now I guess there's you," the goon spoke. Even though his back still faced Emily, she knew that he was referring to her. The fact made the blood run chill through her veins. She tried to make herself small, crouching back down but there was nowhere to go. The muscles in her legs had grown cramped from the restrictions of her predicament. She awkwardly raised herself back into a standing position, only to realize with mounting frustration that that was no better. Her arms tugged at the bonds with a "clink clink clink" and round the circle of no relief she went.

"Would you like to get off that pipe young lady?" the goon asked at the sound of her tugging. Emily squinted her eyes in distrust, breathing heavily through her nose. She wanted this very badly. Her body was sore from mistreatment, but she feared him getting closer. Not waiting around to get a straight answer from a gagged schoolgirl sleuth, the goon approached Emily, fishing a small key from his jacket pocket. Her eyes caught it, lingered on it, longed for what it could do for her. When he reached past her with the key leading his hand, she tried to be courageous but flinched anyway.

The gears in the cuff securing her right hand clicked and tumbled free. She instinctively pulled her wrist forward, rubbing the chafe skin on the soft material of her green sweater against her hip. Emily brought her left arm forward, still locked in the now dangling cuffs. She twisted and rotated her wrist encouraging circulation to return. Despite the danger transpiring, she felt relieved to be free of that frightening rusty pipe. The growing sensation caused her hand to reach toward the rotten leather gag biting into her mouth. No sooner had her slender fingers touched the coarse material than the goon sprang to action.

"Ah ah ah!" he warned coming up behind Emily with sudden velocity. She squeaked into her gag as the vicious baton came up around her, stopping at her throat. The density of the weapon could be felt by the pulse in her delicate neck. He held it there in a relaxed, but unambiguous choke hold. "And let's just take care of this here," he said grabbing at her free wrist. Instinctively it squirmed and scattered, but when his hand grabbed her elbow and increasingly squeezed, she stopped her little game. Tick tick tick! The cuff closed back over her wrist, securing her arms behind her back.

"Now, why don't we have a little chat, what do you say?" The goon grabbed Emily's long red ponytail and gave it an impatient yank. She sobbed into the leather gag and felt her knees go weak. Her body begged to drop down but he would not release her hair. The pressure in her scalp forced her to find the willpower to stay on her feet. Emily nodded her head, careful not to exacerbate the tug on her poor hair.

"Good, good. I'm glad that you agree. And I imagine that you would like to get back to your dorm room Miss Lockwood? Perhaps write about this little adventure in your diary?" When Emily gave no response, the goon yanked hard against her ponytail, causing her body to seize in fear. "Isn't that right?" he repeated annoyed. Emily gave a tiny nod while tears began streaming down her cheeks. She had never been more afraid in her life than right now.

"Well, I would like to send you back to Greenfield Academy in one piece as well. As for writing about this in your diary? I've never been too much a fan of your stories... too much... fiction. You come off sounding a little self righteous, and you paint the bad guys as... well... bad." As the goon spoke in her ear, Emily quietly whimpered, heart hammering beneath her sweater.

"I can't say I blame you. You are a school girl, you don't necessarily understand these things. But the problem is, you are nosy, and you like to think you know what is right. You have made things very difficult for Dr Moore. He nearly lost his practice because of your shenanigans, and his daughter, your friend, is now in juvenile detention because of you. Now I would like to think you are a sensible young lady Miss Lockwood. I imagine you now realize that you do not fully understand the research surrounding formula CXSE-W1, and that perhaps Dr Moore should be free to continue his work without worrying about a meddlesome brat poking around his business? And as tempting as this will all be to write about in a story, I am going to guess that if I remove these handcuffs and set you on your way back school, that you are not going to do that. No... I think you are going to be a smart little teenage girl Miss Lockwood. I think, you will get home and take a hot shower, make yourself a cup of hot tea, then curl up in your bed, snuggled in your pajamas. If you get the urge to be a little journalist... poke your nose into some place it belongs."

"Write about pantyhose in your diary. That's what teenage girls fuss and fret over. Heck, maybe you can even get tights removed from Greenfield's required dress code. I bet you'd be a real hero to all those girls, Miss Lockwood." The goon chuckled as he mocked the importance and minimal effect that Emily had as a sleuth.

"Fashion and boys Miss Lockwood. It's a less dangerous line of work for a girl like you. Stick to what you are good at... before it's too late," the goon nodded toward the lidded blue box. Emily let out a moan at his implication. Oh Dawn! What am I going to do!? she thought to herself in growing despair.

"Now, when I release you, do you promise to be a good girl?" the goon snarled into Emily's ear, holding her hair tightly. Frightened by the danger of the baton held to her neck, she gave a short rapid series of nods.

To be continued...