Your heart raced as a hand suddenly clamped over your mouth, stifling any protest you might have mustered. The touch felt strangely familiar, sending shivers down your spine as you were whisked away from the safety of your team.

"It's always him you praise and look at... How annoying," He huskily grumbled, as you tried to call out for help you were muffled by the intrusive hand. Before you could struggle further, a chilling sensation pricked at your skin as cold metal pressed against your throat.

"I cannot let you run back to that disgusting bus now that I finally have you in my grasp." His voice whispered menacingly into your ear, curdling your blood. You were forcefully pressed against his chest, his breath hot against your skin as he tightened his grip.

A sense of dread washed over you as you realized the gravity of the situation. The hand over your mouth, the cold metal against your throat, it was a dire predicament. And yet, a strange familiarity lingered.

"Your clothes are filthy," He remarked, the words dripping with disdain as they surveyed your appearance.