I NEVER MINDED THE BEATING, cutting, burning, and other stuff after a few more days of being his punching bag. It was cruel, yes, but it was better than having to dream about Alex or Ruvée saving me, sometimes it was the both of them. The dreams about what happened before all this started finally stopped but for the worst—it was either I was being saved or having the nightmares about what Max did to me for the past nights.

          Hah, of course Max would prove that any dreams I had, he could do better. It was the best one because why? Not only did he leave me with scars and nightmares for the rest of my life, he also left me insomniac and paranoid on most nights since he started to torture me from the inside out.

          I had been here for weeks. I counted. Sure, there weren't any window inside the room, and there was a significantly amount of red paint splashed around it but when Max or his men would open the door, I caught a glimpse of the window just a few steps away from the door of the room.

          If I manage to get out from this room, I could break the window and start running. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one I got. It beats having to stay here for so long. It's either I die here or I die outside.

          It's better to be outside.

* * * *

I TRIED TO ESCAPE yesterday. One of his men, stupidly enough, locked the door but forgot to pull it again after closing. See, here's the thing about the door—it still closes but not fully. The latch doesn't lock if you don't pull it hard enough. I waited about thirty minutes, making sure that everything was going quiet and the men were upstairs.

          When I opened the door, I immediately ran to the window, tried to get it open from the latch but it didn't so I just ran straight on it, the glass shattering into pieces and me having to acquire a few cuts.

          It didn't matter, I was finally out. My adrenaline was rushing, I could hear my heartbeat pumping loudly in my ears, and I ran as fast as I could.

          It was silly of me to think I would get far, just like it was silly of me not to expect that they had a gun with tranquilizer in it. When I came to, Max was on top of me, choking me out of anger, and screaming at my ear, his spit going across my face as I tried my best to claw his hands away from my neck.

          It didn't work.

          Why? Because it was silly of me to think that I would be able to escape him.

* * * *

I HAVEN'T DREAMT OF ANYTHING about the people I cared about. Suddenly, the dreams stopped and it was all nightmares.

* * * *

AFTER FIVE DAYS, I noticed that the red splatters all around on this floor wasn't paint at all. No, they were blood. Specifically, my blood.

          They decided to barricade every window with wood and to change locks on the door, and to have only one person to bring me food which was the man who punched me when I started getting hysterical.

          I learned that his name was Fringe. At least, that's what he calls himself.

          Oh, and the man who forgot to lock properly, I've been told, was now dead.

* * * *

FRINGE WAS THE BEST. Even though we did have a rocky start, he finally became my friend, sat with me while I ate the same food they've been serving ever since. It was my favorite soup, Tomato Rice.

          Apparently, he wasn't lying when he said that his sister was sick and needs the medical help that the hospital she was now has to offer. I get that. I mean, I didn't help hold a person hostage, but hey, people need to do what they need to do for the people they love.

          He was a good guy. When Max would be gone and we'd have times like these, he would ask what he did to me and if I was okay. I would tell him that I am.

          And it wasn't even a lie.

* * * *

NOTHING HURTS ANYMORE.

          I felt complete numb inside. Was it even normal?

          Eh, who cares about being normal anyway? Boring people!

* * * *

APPARENTLY, I WAS WRONG. I haven't been here for weeks. I've been here for two months as told by Fringe.

          Did I talk about how he's the best already?

          Yesterday, he decided to give me my food with a rose, said that it was orders but later admitted that he agreed to it because he thought that I deserved something fresh and red.

          Also, did I talk about how I'm not having dreams anymore? No nightmares too.

          That's good, right?

* * * *

MAX BOUGHT ME A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS last night. It was so sweet of him! Maybe I should give him a chance. He deserves it.

          I have been a shit girlfriend to him so I really did deserve everything he did to me.

          Now, Fringe didn't eat with me. He was the one eating with me and he talked about how hard it was that his dad still didn't want to accept him even if he was the one that made sure that the suicide looked real.

          We definitely have a lot in common, I remember.

          He wasn't so bad at all.

* * * *

I GOT KICKED AND CHOKED AGAIN last night. It's okay, I deserved it—Max told me to wait for him and not sleep because he was going to be out late and I accidently slept.

* * * *

FRINGE KEPT ME company while waiting for him to make sure I'm not asleep again. I don't want Max to be angry at me anymore.

* * * *

I DON'T KNOW what's happening with me.

---

Definitely a head-turner, no? This was easy yet so hard to right. Sure, it's a short chapter but everything had hurt while I was writing this.

See you next chapter, Survivors.

Bella O'Brien