LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Road Untraveled by Cissoye

Chapter 1

A/N Please, mind the rating. This story will have descriptions of violence and abuse. Sometimes graphic sometimes not. I'm a new author on this site, so I'll let you know I love writing about emotions and traumas. I love exploring the damages it does and how people deal with it.


If you don't like, don't read. It's as simple as that.


Let me know what you think of the story. I'll be happy to get constructive criticism. Please, read, rate, and comment.


Thank you.


P.S : This story doesn't have a Beta.


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CHAPTER 1



The plane landed at four fifteen in the afternoon and by the time they were out of the airport the sky was a dark menacing gray. Jim led the way to the rented SUV and took place behind the wheel, their bodyguard, Cale, taking the passenger seat.


Slamming the door shut, Chester got comfortable on the back seat besides Mike and smiled.


“What do we expect for tonight ?” He asked Jim, just as the car left the parking lot.


“Rain, a lot of rain. Tomorrow should be better.”


Nodding, Chester leaned against the armrest and watched Mike. He had his laptop out and was working on whatever song of the moment.


“What are you doing ?” Chester was just bored, though they’d been in the car for only five minutes.


Mike grinned and messed with his computer some more. What the hell was he up to, Chester had no idea, and it brought a frown on his face. He tried to see the screen but Mike turned it away, grinning even more.


“Just a sec.” He said, and sighing in frustration, Chester leaned into his seat and got his phone out.


They were engaged on the winding road going down the mountain when Mike put a final touch to whatever he was doing and smiled at Chester.


“Listen to that.” He said, hitting the space bar.


Something sounding like a dying chicken echoed out of the speakers in an unexpected melodic way. Chester had no idea what the hell was this shit, but it didn’t stop him from jamming, bringing immediate laughter. Mike wasn't disappointed when Chester started singing deep and meaningful lyrics about fried chicken and burning pain.


When he got into Burn It Down verse, Mike simply lost it. He laughed so hard his foot started beating into the floor as if it had a personal vendetta against it. Encouraged, Chester grinned wide and closed his eyes on a funny high note.


By this point Mike was fighting back tears. Jim and Cale couldn't stop laughing either and it was a miracle they hadn't crashed already. The road was dark and narrowed, meandering through the thick landscape of trees. Thunder could be heard in the far distance, announcing the upcoming storm.


“-chicken stew!”


“Chicken stew-” Mike repeated, laughing too much. “What the hell is chicken stew ?”


“Don't remember our Seoul stop ?”


“Right, right.” Mike said with a nod and wipe of his eyes. “This wasn't so bad.” He said, stopping the dying chicken melody.


“Yeah. But I think Joe bought outdated one or something. It tasted weird. At least mine did.” He leaned back in the seat. “I was sick next day.”


“But you’re always sick.” Chester flipped Mike off and leaned his head against the seat, eyes closed and a small smile still ghosting on his lips.


Chuckling to himself, Mike went back to his music, searching through a folder what to work on next.





Chester was sleeping, or trying to, when the car slowed to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Looking up from his laptop, Mike frowned at the back of Jim's head and leaned on the side to look out the windshield.


“Seriously ?” He said, waiting for the car stopped across the small road to leave.


“The hell ?” Chester said, voice rough with sleep. He got out of the car before any of them could react, and watching his friend walk to the unmoving vehicle, a certain tension started to grow on Mike. He couldn’t tell if it was the weather, these dark clouds letting an eerie glow shine on the world, or the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, but something felt off. Maybe he’d watched too many movies, or he was tired and imagining things, but this pang at the pit of his stomach made him a little too much uncomfortable.


Chester stopped at the driver’s door and knocked on the window. He waited for an answer, foot tapping the ground and fingers beating an impatient rhythm on his hip. A second passed, then another, and still no answer. Even from the distance Mike could see the signs of annoyance in Chester's body language. The way he leaned back and crossed his arms said it all, and Mike almost smiled at the thought of the verbal assault the guy in this car was about to receive. Not that Mike enjoyed cursing at random people, but some people were just asking for it.


Like this asshole parked across the road and ignoring Chester.


There was a movement outside the car, or Mike thought he caught one. Something like a passing shadow and the ruffle of leaves. Whatever it was, Mike was too slow to do much more than turn his head to the right before all hell broke loose in the car.


Cale’s door was opened and a gun fired. The world exploded in Mike’s ears, something thick and warm splashing across his face. He blinked, mouth falling open in a silent scream. A loud ringing echoed in his skull and ears, slowing the world around him for a moment too long.


The door on his side was opened, letting in a gush of chilly wind. He was yanked outside the car, his laptop tumbling to the floor in a thud. Still shell shocked, he didn’t fight back and tried to breathe through the sudden panic.


Ears still ringing and heart hammering, Mike’s world blinked before him when he was shoved against the driver’s door and pinned there by a fist balled on the collar of his jacket.


He let a shaky breath out, the chill of the upcoming night making him shiver in place. Hands pressed against the sheet metal, he stood real still and glanced at Jim. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, wasn’t sure what he was seeking for in Jim (maybe reassurance and comfort), but what he saw threatened to make him lose any kind of grip he had on reality.


Jim was still behind the wheel, seat belt on. His hands were wrapped around his throat from where too much blood was oozing. His lips were moving in a desperate attempt to breathe and live. Mike’s chest closed on itself, making it impossible to get air down into his lungs. All he could do for what seemed forever was watch as Jim, a man he considered like a father, slowly bleed out to death in this rented car in the middle of nowhere.


Their eyes met for a brief moment, the fear and panic he saw in them freezing him in shock.


He was yanked from the door and shoved against the car hood. His face smacked against the metal, his eyes closing hard on instinct. For a second, he focused on the coldness against his cheek and the wind in his hair. He tried to get some kind of control over everything that was happening, tried to think again-


“Don't move.” A gun pressed on the back of his neck, snapping him out of whatever trance he was getting lost into.


He listened to the ruffle behind him, listened to these noises making no real sense but frightening him out of his mind. His arms were yanked in his back with unnecessary strength and secured there by a rough and thin piece of plastic. Mike tugged on it once, more out of instinct than anything, and wasn’t left with much time to do more. He was pulled off the car hood with a hand balled in his jacket and shoved in the general direction of the back of the SUV.


He could already feel the strain in his shoulders at the forced position his arms were tied in. As trivial as this could be at the right moment, it helped Mike’s mind to focus. It was in chaos and racing in so many different places that walking became a foreign concept. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but for a stretching moment as he stared at his feet and watched them move, he had no idea what was going on. Wasn’t even sure to understand he was moving, that it was his feet and his sneakers treading over the road.


Feeling nauseous at the sight of his moving feet, he blinked and looked up at the van he’d not noticed until then. Behind the dull noise of incomprehension and fear, Mike felt the tug of survival-instinct. This instinct telling him this van didn’t represent anything good. That if he got in there, he was dead. That if he didn’t do something now and run, he was dead.


The man behind him must have felt the tension in his body, because the gun dug into the base of his neck and annihilate any kind of thoughts he could have had. They fell apart like a sand castle, leaving behind nothing more than raw terror and panic. Leaving him stripped to this threat he had to face on his own.


“Get in.” He was pushed forward, forcing him to lift his foot and get inside the van to avoid crashing face first inside. He stumbled and still hit his other knee against the hard metal, and grunting, he fell on his knees and tried to keep his balance without his hands.


An arm wrapped around his shoulders and chest and pulled him further inside. The door slammed shut behind them and Mike stiffened even more. He was put in a corner, back pressed against the wall and mind going wild.

The man’s boots pounded against the floor as he moved away and took place somewhere else in the darkness.


The van rumbled and shook to life, and sitting there in this corner, hands tied in his back and heart beating so hard that it was threatening to break through, Mike’s panic went loose.


Respiration heavy and painful, blood thumbed in Mike’s ears as a mess of images and thoughts crossed his mind at once. He wasn’t sure what was going on, wasn’t sure what even happened, but it announced nothing good and he didn’t know what to do.


A light was clicked on and Mike’s eyes squeezed shut, opening slowly after on the blurry image of his sneakers. He heard and caught movement not too far before him, but he was frozen in fear and didn’t dare to look up. Couldn’t look up, his muscles refused to respond to him.


Someone was there on his side, opening something. Mike’s gaze flickered in this direction and saw some legs in a black loose cargo pants tugged in black combat boots. Behind them was a small blue and white cooler in which the man had his hand. For a moment this image remained frozen. It was only these legs and this blue cooler, like a picture on a wall. Then the man moved and reality came crashing into Mike.


He sucked in a deep breath and pressed harder into the corner, his head lifting up to look at the man shutting the cooler and walking back to the other side of the van. Mike watched him and froze even more at the sight of another man sitting on a narrowed bench beside the side door. Him too was wearing combat boots and cargo pants. He wore a mask, like his friend, and Mike shivered at the creepy design on them. It covered half their faces from chin to the bridge of their noses, running back down over their cheekbones. One had a blue mask and the other a green, and both had scary looking jaw skull decorating them.


Mike’s knees drew a little closer to his chest, his respiration sharpening even more.


Blue mask was staring back at him, watching his every moves. A glance at the weapon in this guy’s hands only enhanced Mike’s terror, and he was quick to look up from this deadly looking rifle on the man’s lap.


He imagined a smirk behind the blue mask at the way this guy’s eyes creaked, and clenching his jaw, Mike shifted on the floor and looked at the other man. He was sitting on the bench across from blue mask, his posture lazy and comfortable. His back was pressed into the wall as he opened a soda and tried to drink.


“Ah, shit.” He said and glanced at Mike staring back at him.


Stiffening at the sudden attention, he glanced from one man to the other and swallowed around a lump.


Blue mask looked at his friend and chuckled, the sound deep and rich in Mike’s ears.


“Idiot.” He said to green mask, winning a glare.


“Give me the bag.” Green mask said, putting the can on the bench, arm outstretched in blue mask’s direction.


Still smirking, from what Mike could say, blue mask took something from his bomber jacket’s pocket and tossed it at his friend. Mike tensed up when green mask stood up and stalked closer to him. Heart hammering and eyes widening, he shifted in the corner and tried to disappear into the wall. He glanced at the bag in the man’s gloved hand and swallowed thickly in apprehension.


“Don’t move.” He said, kicking Mike back in place when he tried to get away. Grunting, he closed his eyes and curled on himself.


The bag was shoved over his head and he couldn’t stop the panic taking him at the throat. He wasn’t sure what terrified him so much, but not being able to see anymore, while he was already tied up, in this enclosed place with these two dangerous guys-


Mike inhaled deep and exhaled, struggling to get air into his lungs. His panic just enhanced at the thought he was having an asthma attack, and closing his eyes, he tried to calm down and focus on his respiration. It wheezed down his lungs and left him too aware of the tightness in his chest.


God, no. Not here, not now-


The attack just got worse as seconds ticked by. This bag over his head prevented him to breathe right. It got to the point that even the two masked men noticed and started talking to him. The blood pounding in his ears made it hard to understand what was said, and only when the bag was snatched from his head did he manage to focus on anything but his incapacity to breathe.


He blinked sweat from his eyes and looked up at blue mask, flinching a little at the sight.


“You okay there ?” The man asked, voice a little muffled.


Mike looked up into deep blues and blinked again, nodding even though he wasn’t okay. It was instinctive afraid as he was at the right moment.


If these guys thought him any weaker than he already was, he was terrified of what they would do.


Kill me. They’ll kill me-


“Austin, you’ve got his bag ?” Blue mask asked over his shoulder, and Mike realized how close to him this guy was crouching. He tried to shift away, but he was already pressed into the corner.


Green mask tossed the backpack to his friend. He unzipped it at once and started rummaging inside it. Mike watched, half aware of what the guy was doing. Breathing was even more difficult than a moment ago and he started to fear these guys would just let him die.


“Here,” Something was pushed against his teeth and Mike startled, head snapping up and eyes blinking in confusion and fear.


Blue mask waited for him to calm down and accept the inhaler before pressing on it once. Mike inhaled deep and held his breath, all the while staring at these deep blues fixed on him. He counted in his head then exhaled, the relief of being able to breath taking away so much tension that he couldn’t help a shudder.


“All good now,” Blue mask said in a smile and patted Mike’s cheek.


Jerking his head away, he glared at the man and pushed himself into a full sitting position when the man walked away, laughing.


Mike watched as blue mask sat back on the bench and picked up his rifle to place it over his lap again.


Silence spread inside the van, the only noise being the one of the engine and the tires on the road. Mike could hear the soft pouring of rain on the vehicle, and as he sat there in relative peace, he realized he not only had no idea where he was being taken, but that he didn’t even know if Chester was okay.



TBC


Thank you for reading.

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