Here's a page or so from my book.
Also; I've already rewrote this in my book. So I'm kinda not revealing anything.
It wasn't much of a fight.
They grabbed me, and as they pulled me through a dark hallway, I imagined various heroic and brave displays I could perform when we reached whatever destination they desired. I had just finished a performance in my head where I strongly wrench myself out of their grasp, then enter myself into a fight in which I kicked and punched many of them very hard. Leaving myself the brave, fearless winner.
It didn't exactly go that way.
One of them kicked open a door, and shunted me into a brilliantly white room. Instead of the witty, snappy comment I imagined myself saying, I heard a small, pathetic whimper escape from my mouth. If my visualizations were people, they'd all be staring at me in disbelief.
With a rough hand on either of my shoulders, they pushed me down into a chair, and I started to hyperventilate. Breathing sharply, my knees banged into each other with a soft whump. I thought I was feeling the worst of it, until the tall woman walked in.
My heart slammed into my spine as I stared shamelessly. She had sleek dark hair that hung down to her shoulders, and horrid pink glasses that matched her long, sharp nails. Her outfit, posture, and manner reeked of business, and when her lined ruby eyes settled down on me, I felt my breathing stop.
She frowned. "Why are you holding her down?" I figured it was for the men, but even if it wasn't; I was in no state to do anything other then stare. I felt a man shift behind me, and heard,"We didn't want her to escape..." He trailed off, rather foolishly, and stopped talking.
The woman smiled apologetically at me. "Very sorry, my dear. Let her go." When the hands didn't release me, she lost her smile, and snapped,"Now." I felt the hands let go of my shoulder, and I tried to sit up straight in my chair. I probably looked like I had a spinal disorder.
Now, the woman looked down and sat in her own chair. Once she was settled, she smiled at me again. Before she could speak, though, I found my voice and blurted,"Why am I here?"
The woman wagged a slender finger at me,"Now, now. Manners. Ask me my name." She waited.
I felt irritation bubble on my face, and tried to reply as nastily as I could in this situation, and snapped,"Honestly, I don't give a damn about your name." I was almost proud.
If my retort had angered her in any way, she definitely didn't show it. When she spoke, her words were smooth.
"Very well. My name is Miss Watson. I know your name, of course."
My reply was lost on my tongue. I just watched her. She continued.
"Yes. You, my dear, are a very special girl." I found my voice again. "Oh yeah? How so?"
Miss Watson finally lost her placid smile. The tiniest frown set on her lips. I allowed myself a feeling of fierce satisfaction.
"What do you mean, 'how so?'"
I narrowed my eyes. "I mean; How. So. Is that too complicated for you?"
"What I mean, is do you not know?"
"Not know what?"
"Not know that your special?"
I sensed an opportunity, and I took it. I raised my eyebrows thoughtfully,"Well, my mother always did say I was special--"
"Think your smart, do you?", growled Miss Watson.
I shot her a smile, and felt my courage mounting. "Yes. I must say, I do."