#rise up freedom fighter (leaderawakened)

[aroaringlioness]

“Is that all you have to say to me?” 

“No,” the woman sneered. “You’re a fucking conniving bitch!” 

Natalie huffed with a smile rounding out her response. It’s not the first time she’s heard that. This one just stung a little less then others. Grieving ex-wives come out of the woodwork at night. She stepped out letting the night workers do what they were supposed to. The museum can handle not having her around all day, everyday. She chose to come in for a last minute check on a shipment roster. Funny how that works. 

“Out of all the relics I find the most rusted out piece right here. You know Gwendolyn I could give two shits what you think. I didn’t con my way anywhere. Maybe if you would’ve had a better eye on your marriage he would have stayed with you. Then you’d have the museum.” 

Harsh has never been her thing. She’s been a realist. She’s been the realest since fucking college. All it takes is one bad thing to bring up a whole list of a bad things. 

“That doesn’t belong to you. It belonged to his family. You never were his family, Natalie. You were just the other goddamn woman!” 

“Was I?” Stepping up to her, Nat held up her hand, flaunting the engagement ring he gave her. Of course she’s still wearing it. Why wouldn’t she? She smiled, a bite on her tongue. “Looks like the other woman got the rock.” 

Gwendolyn took one look at the ring flaunting in her face and swung her hand. 

Natalie’s head took a jerk under the slap. She unhinged her jaw. Pressing her hand against her cheek, she exhaled slowly. One wrong move and she’ll deck her. One wrong move and they’ll know something is going on. That’s what really aggravated her. She can’t do squat to her right now. Not while the whole will is still fresh. They just handed over the keys to the kingdom. Can’t screw it up. 

“I hope you get what you deserve, Nat. Trash always does.” 

The ex-wife is already clicking off and honestly Nat could laugh at her wishful thinking. Get what she deserves? “I already am babe,” she hissed, turning in direction of where she parked the Porsche. She dug into her bag. “Where is it?” Struggling to get her compact to check where she was hit, Natalie dropped it near her car. The cell phone going off in the silent parking lot is an unneeded jump scare. “Shit.” She fumbled to answer as she looked over the ground for her item. “Natalie Hill. Spill.” 

“Hello, Natalie. Would you like to play a game.” 

She paused at the voice distortion. Sounded like some creepy horror movie voice changer. Oh she’s moved into the world getting obscene phone calls. “Play with yourself.” Hanging up, she crouched down to pick up the found compact, footsteps sliding up behind over asphalt. Natalie turned quick, swinging her bag out. She took a hit to the back of the head. Laying her out flat, she lost the compact in her hand. Lying there with a broken mirror it’s the last thing she memorized before blacking out. 

The next thing is sketchy. Swollen head. Headache. Pain in her wrist.

Blurred vision filled her consciousness. Her head did feel like a melon about to burst. She lifted it enough off the floor. It was dirty. “Where the hell?” She pushed up, body aching from her position. First thing she noticed is the fact she’s no longer wearing high heels. She’s just in her stockings. Her jacket is gone. The violet blouse she has on is smeared in dirt like someone dragged her to this spot. 

Only when she tries to get up does she realize her wrist is hurting from being cuffed to an old rusted pipe. That’s when panic sets in. Natalie tugs at the pipe, unable to loosen it, crying out from the metal digging into her skin. “What kind of sick game is this?!” 

|||| starter @leaderawakened