Pairing: Trevor x Reader
Summary: It’s time for a little snack.
Warning Level: ●○○○○ Low
You didn’t drive very long, but still you had no clue where in the world you could be. The was not a single road sign to be seen along the way and nothing to give you any hint. Or maybe there was. But you’ve had your eyes closed for half the way. With howling breaks, the car had stopped in front of a hut with an old wooden sign over the door, saying ‘Doreen’s’. There was one more trailer and a little shed. Besides that, nothing but sand and the pitch black night. After another moment, you got out the Bodhi, following Trevor, who was waving his hand. As he pushed open the door, the smell of cigarette smoke and molding wood creeped up your nose. The room you stepped in, was lit with old, hazy lamps, giving it a yellowish tint. It was looking like a bar, but there were also tables like in a diner. An older woman was cleaning the counter, not even minding that someone came in. There were exactly three other men in there, not speaking at all. Now and then they were sipping on their beers and whiskeys, looking fairly drunk already. Your abductor walked straight over to one of the tables, sitting down on a chair and pointing to the other as he looked up to you. So you took the seat across the table, looking to your left. You had just noticed there was country music playing from somewhere and the hissing sound of meat in a frying pan could be heard. Your head moved to where you guessed to be the kitchen. A smell of fries, onions and something grilled reached your senses and seemed to be intensifying. Your last meal were the cornflakes you had this morning. Hell, you didn’t even get to your lunchbreak today. That thought reminded you that you were kidnapped.
Accidentally your eyes met Trevors. He was sitting opposite of you, grinning complacently right into your face. A heat rose up your head. For a criminal, sitting in a pub with his hostage, that guy was looking pretty relaxed. He just sat there, leaned back, one arm over the chair next to him, smirking. As psycho as he was, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. No sight of nervousness or insecurity. He was having some sort of mysterious aura around him. And even despite the fact he was without any doubt, a drug addict and presumably a drinker, he seemed smart somehow.
You just realised you had been looking at him for way too long, although it were probably just a few seconds. Luckily, a waitress was just appearing next to the table, holding a small notepad and a pencil. She was in her late twenties, slink, with dark-blonde, braided hair and tired, brown eyes. Her attention went from you to Trevor, slightly lifting up the corner of her mouth.
»Mr. Philips.« She commented in a dry voice.
»Nancy… whatever your last name is.« Trevor replied, sounding a little bored.
She was looking at you again.
»You’re here with woman, and she doesn’t look like a prostitute. Wow.«
Trevor raised an eyebrow.
»You’re here with your mother and you still look like a hillbilly waitress.«
The girl frowned a little, trying to keep her cool. You had to prevent yourself from chuckling. You had to admit, he could be sort of funny. She gave him a pissed-off smile, looking at her pad again.
»Fuck off and tell me what you want.«
»27.« He turned his head to you.
»Twice. She needs that now.«
Nancy wrote the number on her paper.
Then she walked away. You watched her leaving, when Trevor leaned forward on the table. He was uncomfortably close to you now, which forced you to look at him again. There were a hundret things to looked at now. So many scars, wrinkles and others marks in that face, that could all tell a story. Something about him was raising your curiosity. You wouldn’t dare to ask though and you still felt like being the food with him, staring at you like this. You needed to breathe.
»I need to…go to the toilet.« You lowered your head.
»…« He was point to the end of the room with one thumb.
You got up, about to walk past him, when he grabbed your forearm firmly. Two brown eyes were looking at you sharply and threatening.
»No tricks, sugar.«
For a moment you froze. Reality kicked back in and reminded you in what kind of situation you were. It was awkward how easily you could forget what had happened a few hours ago. The blood of your colleague running down the glass in an awful red, the screams, the crying alarm.
He let you go.
As you walked on, you still felt the pressure of his hand, like a warning. It was saying more that his words. There was no running away from this. No sense in screaming.
No chance to outwit this man.
- End of Chapter 04 -