28. TREMORS

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"WAKE UP!"

          I coughed, heaved, and opened my eyes. The rope around my right hand, locking me to the metal headboard of the bed, was itching and too tight for me to handle but that wasn't that I was fretting about, it was the water that they threw at me. It almost choked me.

          Max stood in front of me, a red bucket in his hand. He bent down, hands around my face. "It's okay, shh, shh. You wouldn't take a bath so I decided to take control as I've always did. It seems like a good dream, you were having. Tell it to me."

          The will to shake my head and said no was already in my head but I couldn't take it anymore. The burning sensations in each wounds were taking over me, having the pain just control me. "I was—I was dreaming of Travis. He—"


          —was holding my hand tightly, like he was afraid I would let go. We were sitting at this small restaurant he used to go to when he was a kid with Elizabeth. Jada's. We sat down and I let him order for me which was vanilla milkshakes and steak and eggs.

           "You okay?" He asked, staring at me while taking a sip out of the straw of strawberry milkshake. One that I didn't know that he loved. "You've been quiet the whole day. You haven't insulted me or anything. I'm beginning to think that something's wrong."

           My brows furrowed at him, smirking. "You're an idiot."

           He laughed—oh, and what a good laugh it was. I remember missing it. "There she is! So, I have something to tell you."

           "What?"

           "I love you."


          Then I was awake.

          "My," he smiled, those dark brown eyes staring at me. "You still dream of him. I can't fault you for having your dreams, but you know that you belong to me now?"

          No. I will never.

          He got mad when I didn't answer. He always got mad. His hands were around my neck, almost choking me, but a way to get me in place as he freed his other hand from holding me in order to take off the flimsy robe he decided to cover me with.

          Then, he did everything he wanted to me all over again, and no matter how much I screamed and tried to resist, all I was to him and to myself was a powerless girl who couldn't do anything, and who didn't power over the situation.

          All I could do was dream again.


          "You look very upset," Sean commented as soon as he saw me. He was sitting on the couch, Pride and Prejudice in his hands, wearing his reading glasses, and just observing my face. "You alright? Was the date that bad?"

           I shook my head. "Nothing. Actually, it's not nothing. He just said that he loved me."

           His eyes widened. "What? Hold on, uh—well, what the hell did you say?"

           As I plumped down next to him, my hands covered my face from the embarrassment I felt. "Nothing. I just drank my milkshake and ate my steak. Jesus, what was I supposed to say? I can't say it back! It's too soon and it's not the right time."

           Sean's brows furrowed. "Why isn't it the right time?"

           I could only stare at him. Unable to speak, to at least tell him that by the time he woke up, I would be long gone, or for him to search for me, or at least cry about me because he didn't deserve what I would be doing to him.

           All I could think about right now was how mom used to say that he will need me when she'll be gone but it was the opposite—I began to think that maybe, I was the one who needed him more than he did to me. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I'm sure that he'll need our father for the support he'll need, and he'll also need every one of his friends.

           I shook my head. "Hey, can you promise me something?"

           "Yeah, anything for you. You're my sister."

           "Promise me that whatever happens, you won't get angry with me?" His mouth opened, ready to ask what I did wrong but I shook my head again. "Nothing. I just can't stand it when you get mad at me. You're my brother. I love you."

           "As long as you get to my game, I promise I won't." He chuckled.

           I didn't.


          "Lunch."

          One of his friends—the one who had dark brown hair, dark blue eyes, sharp jaw, and stubble, he looked like he was twenty or mid-twenties—dropped the plastic bowl of slowly in front of me. "He told me to give you soup, said it'll make your stomach feel better."

          The plastic bowl was red too but there was a spot of white in it. I was in a small distance away, so I could see how the soup was tomato rice. It was the one I would always eat when I had fever or feel sick and it was what I gave Travis when he got a fever.

          My eyes closed as I just reached for the glass of water beside the soup, downing the liquid that refreshed my throat. As I placed the glass, my eyes wandered again, sinking in what the room's appearance was. The walls were gray but the paint was peeling off from the leaking water by the right corner of the room, the ceiling was white but dusty, the steel bed that I was tied to were forming rusts, and the floor was gray too but there were red stains on it.

          Probably the paint.

          Then, my eyes wandered to my body but before I could pull the fabric off of my legs, the man held my free wrist. "Don't do that. Just eat your soup, please."

          "How—" I rasped, my hand caressing the bandages around my thighs. "How long have I been here? I don't—I don't remember some things. Do you know how long I've been here?"

          "Four days," he answered, lips turning thin. "Do you remember how you surrendered yourself to Max?"

          It's only been four days? Why does it feel longer than that?


          When my eyes opened, Travis slept beside me, arms around me. I could remember trying to stop myself from crying as I pried his hold from me. I even remembered opening the window and watching him shift in his sleep and it scared me that he would be awake but he didn't.

           Everything was hazy, I think I was thinking about the next day—who would cook breakfast? Will they immediately notice that I was gone? Will they ever stop looking for me? Are you going to be okay? I remember wishing that no matter what, they all still would be friends.

           All of a sudden I was standing in an abandoned house, one that crosses the border of the town. It was unsuspicious, something that wasn't even worth to look at. When I went inside, I saw Mac first but I changed my mind and tried to run out the door.

           But I was blocked by two men. Then, he said, "I missed you, Amelia."


          "I want to go home," I cried out.

          He shook his head. "I can't. I need this money more than anything. You don't understand, my sister is sick and she needs medication. I just can't—"

          "Please, please," there was nothing but crack in my voice as I spoke. I pulled on the rope but it only felt tighter. "I know another easy way. There's this underground fight—you could earn money from fighting. You could do that. I would arrange that for you. Please, just let me go."

          His eyes were searching mine, then staring at the rope around my wrist, then to my eyes again. "I'm sorry."

          "No!" I grabbed for him, pulling myself up but everything had hurt, especially when he defensively punched me on my cheek. It took seconds for me to fall down, my free hand still trying to grab anything—his hair, collar, shirt, even shoes—but all he did was bring his fist to my face down again.

          And then, I was unconscious when I had hit the floor.

          Maybe it's better if I'm unconscious forever.

          The sad part was it was all I wanted to be right now.

          But when I woke up to the sound of Max's cooing tone at me, I knew that I was still in this hellhole. It was hard to breathe, it felt like I've been kicked at the ribs and stomach over and over again; and my cheek felt swollen and bruised, definitely from the punch I received from the man.

          My eyes snapped open, immediately sitting up and getting far away from him as I could but it didn't work—I was still tied to the steel headboard, unable to protect myself.

          Max shifted, sighing disappointedly. "You looked peaceful when you slept. Listen, if you just stop resisting and accept that you're mine, then you wouldn't have to suffer like this. We can finally move far away from here, go to the mall and buy you clothes or anything you want. I just want us to be together and you keep resisting me."

          This was hilarious and having to laugh actually had me breathing even harder and the pain of my split lips were getting to me but I still continued to laugh. I didn't know what came over me, but whatever it was, I could see that he wasn't liking it one bit. "It's funny how you think I shouldn't resist you to get better treatment. Also, wasn't our agreement was just me coming here? I never said anything about not resisting you."

          That got me a slap on the unharmed cheek but I continued to laugh, and eventually, he got sick of it and punched again out of his anger. I would say where he punched me, but I lost track after he continued on and on while I laid on the ground.

          Still helpless.



---

You're going to see some changes along with Sam on the next chapter. It's going to be painful, so I plead with you to bear with me because I have something good planned. Okay? Okay.

It's a big oof moment.

Bella O'Brien.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net