Chloe
June 18th, 2015
6:21 a.m.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. Despite my fatigue, I rushed over to the corner of the room. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find, a baseball bat from Kyle and I's room.
I squeezed myself in the corner an waited in anticipation. My breathing became shallow. My adrenaline spiked.
"Chloe?"
I felt the breath I didn't know I was holding release into the (assumedly) morning air. The adrenaline I felt receded slightly. "Yeah," I called to Sergeant Barry. "I'm here."
He stepped into the room. Immediately upon seeing me, he shook his head disdainfully.
I put the bat down with a heavy sigh.
"I had a feeling you would come back here."
"Guess you know me too well," I muttered back tiredly.
"Too well," he agreed. Then, he slapped a pair of handcuffs on me!
Now, I was wide awake. "What the fuck!"
Sergeant Barry made a sympathetic look before raking my arm behind my back and hooking my other wrist in the handcuffs. "Chloe Price, you are under arrest for tampering with a crime scene. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be…"
I thrashed and jumped away from Sergeant Barry, but I couldn't get free. I cursed him and tried to shake him off.
Eventually, I ran out of fight. There's only so much I could do with my hands handcuffed behind my back.
After one last look at the apartment, I was escorted unpleasently into a police car. The last thing I saw before we drove away was a peach colored van.
Hours later, I was escorted back into a hotel room. After being led to the pricinct and processed, I honestly thought they would put me behind bars to "keep me safe."
That wasn't the plan. Barry insisted that I continue to stay at a hotel. Instead, I would be placed under "house arrest" with around the clock police protection and limited visitation. It sucked ass, but apparently they thought it would keep me "safe".
It was all bullshit. Yeah, I trespassed into a crime scene, yet, it was my apartment. I had every right to see the aftermath. To see what happened to my boyfriend. To Dakota.
Now, I'm stuck. Max and Warren, and even Jamie and Stella promised me that they would investigate. It's not that I didn't believe in them, but I still felt frustrated. I should be the one out there, finding him. I should be the one that saves him. Not Arcadia Bay's "finest". Not Max and Warren. Not Jamie and Stella. Me.
Sergeant Barry and some cop I had never seen named Officer Summer Barkley took me to my "safe house". She was stern and untalkative, something I could agree with. I was in no mood for small talk. Or any talk, for that matter.
My stuff from the other hotel room was moved unceremoniously to here. Sure, everything was put away all neat and organized, but it seemed soulless. This organization was the work of some ABPD employee with nothing else to do.
After I scoped the joint, Officer Barkley roughly told me to sit down. Sergeant Barry then attatched some bracelet to my left ankle. Apparently, if I stepped too far off the property line of the hotel, the bracelet would alert the cops. They would swarm to my location, aided by some GPS tracking system.
Basically, I was the police's fucking dog. With an electric fence to boot. The bracelet acted as a collar.
After his explaination, I remained silent. I stewed quietly in my anger.
Sergeant Barry sighed. "Chloe, you know this is only temporary. Once we find him, you can go. This is only a precaution."
"Just find them. And make it fast."
He knew that was all he was going to get out of me. After a few words to Officer Barkley, he left. Officer Barkley regarded me like dirt under her shoe, but I couldn't care less. I was too preoccupied in my own head.
How did he find us? I know it's not like we tried to remain hidden. Hell, I didn't even know he was after me until now, because of those bastards working at the ABPD.
This was hella strange. I looked up on my phone for news of the past week. Surely, if he had broken out recently, there would be news about it. His arrest was a big deal then, his breakout would be a big deal now.
Lo and behold, it was. There were hella articles talking about his breakout. Several news outlits agreed he somehow befriended a guard and with this unknown guard, escaped. There were several videos of him escaping in a police van. The license plate seemed weird, like I had seen it before. Then, I remembered. The peach van! The same license plate was on there!
He must have switched it after he escaped, so if they ran the plates it would come up as a police vehicle! It seemed a little too obvious, but Damon wasn't that smart.
Now comes the troubling part, I can't tell Max and Warren. If I did and they found the van, and if by some chance it did lead them to Damon, they'll bring the cops in. I can't let that happen. Damon would kill Kyle the second he sees a cop.
No, he wants me. I'm sure of it. I'm the only one that can save him.
I stood up and paced. Officer Barkley watched me like a sleepy dog. She was lazy and incompetent and I wanted to leave.
Acting out of spite, I opened the door to the room. I didn't know where I would go.
"Going somewhere?" Officer Barkley drawled.
"I just need some fresh air." And for you to get off my ass.
"You know where he is, don't you?"
That took me aback. She looked deep into my eyes, like she was trying to get the truth out of me.
Perhaps this was my chance. Maybe I can get Officer Barkley to let me go and find him myself.
"I think so. I won't tell you unless I can go. All offense taken, but you fucks are hella incompetent."
Officer Barkley snorted. "What, you think you can take Damon Merrick? Some scrawny 19 year old punk?"
I gritted my teeth against her insult. I didn't want to make her angry, she would never let me go then. But hell, she got my age wrong. Weren't cops supposed to know everything about their victims or perps or whatever?
I opened my mouth to speak, but Officer Barkley gave me a whimsical look before standing up and walking over to me. She kneeled down and worked on my ankle bracelet. Within a minute, she had finished doing whatever the hell she was doing to it.
"Uh, thanks." That's all I could think to say. I never would have thought she would have released me so easily.
"I'm using you as bait," she explained. "I adjusted it. The sensor will no longer call for backup, but I will still be able to track you on GPS. You find him, and we'll come as backup."
I nodded. The surprise was wearing off, but I still couldn't believe my fortune. Finally, a cop who understood! Even if said cop wants to use me as bait, still.
After a stiff nod, Officer Barkley excused me. Now it's my turn, I'm going find you Kyle.
Kyle
June 18th, 2015
A few hours later
My head still throbbed. To be more accurate, my neck still throbbed. It felt sore too. I hadn't talked since I last spoke to Dakota. I still couldn't exactly process the image of her being shot. I can't help but feel as though it was my fault.
If only I hadn't invited her over. If only I was strong enough to fight off Damon. It was true that in a morbid sense, she was supposed to go before either of us, but she never deserved to be shot.i She didn't deserve to die.
All I felt was hatred and guilt. I hated Damon for what he did to me. But especially for what he did for Dakota.
He introduced himself to me, the sick bastard. After I first came to, he was there. I tried to fight. I was strapped to a chair. My wrists bound by tape to the arms, my ankles to the legs. My eyes covered by a blindfold. He had also taped around my mid section to hold me to the chair.
He laughed at my face. I spewed curses towards him, but of course he also had my mouth taped.
He never tortured me, like I expected. He mostly bragged about who he was, figuring out where we lived, and what he wants to do to Chloe. He fed me terrible sandwhiches and let me drink water, all the while knowing if I said or did anything he didn't like, he would hurt me in some way.
I hated myself for being here. I hated being used as bait to lure Chloe. I hated feeling useless. I hated being hopeless. I hated knowing that I was going to die. It was only a matter of time.
He probably sensed that I had given up. He cut my wrists and tied them together with tape in front of my body. He claimed it was because he was tired of feeding me like a little child. Which was probably the truth to some degree.
I don't know how long I was there. I don't know how long I sat there and took it. I almost wanted to be tortured, just to break the monotony.
After some time, Damon removed the blindfold. This was only a slight relief. I didn't think I'd ever see color again.
Not that there was much to see. Aside from Damon and his clothes, the most color I could see was the brown of an old warehouse, or possibly a tenement.
I decided we had to be in some sort of old, abandoned building. Perhaps a warehouse or factory building. A mill maybe, but not the mill Brooke had Max, Warren, and Dakota.
I was tired. I nodded off from time to time, but it wasn't enough. I was constantly paranoid that each breath would be my last. That I would die in my sleep.
I had been awake for a while. It was impossible to keep track of time when there was nothing to base it off of. There were no windows as far as I could see. There was not a clock or anything measureable. I could have been here for a couple hours or a few days. I just couldn't tell.
Damon walked back into the room I was held in. He carried a tire iron and wore a smirk. "How's it going?" he asked sarcastically.
I didn't even attempt to answer.
He continued to talk casually. "They arrested your girlfriend."
I lifted my head to send him a curious look, but that was all I could muster.
"She was tamporing with our crime scene. I saw it happening. Your girlfriend is predictable."
He stowed the tire iron in his tool box sitting just a couple meters away. Not for the first time, my eyes caught a pair of industrial scissors. I wished for the umpteenth time that I could somehow get my hands on them.
Damon grabbed a chair from the back of the room and brought it to my attention. He heaved a case of beer to rest in front of him.
This was his new favorite hobby. He loved slowly drinking from his beer bottles and boring me to death about his boasts. His claims about what he would do to Chloe used to terrify me, now I only saw them as an annoyance.
He took a swig from his beer and smirked once again. How he could drink that piss was anyone's guess.
Damon continued his spiel, but I tuned him out. I had gotten used to his monologues.
A loud bang erupted from the back. I became much more interested in my surroundings. Perhaps salvation had come.
I sat up as straight as I possibly could in my chair. I tried to spot the newcomer barging in, hoping against hope it was the police and not Chloe. She would just put herself in danger. She wasn't a match for Damon.
Or so I thought.
Damon heard the noise. He wasn't deaf. He disappeared into another room, a finger to his lips, silently commanding me to be silent.
"Hmmmm!" I called to the newcomer. What I'm doing might he dangerous, but at least my cavalry knew I was alive.
"Kyle?"
Fuck.
"Go get help, Chloe!" I yelled into the duct tape. Unfortunately, the tape muffled my plea.
"It's okay!" Chloe stage whispered. "I'm going to get you out of here."
She smartly checked her corners before approaching me. I tried to tell her about Damon disappearing into the other room, but that came out was groans.
Chloe stepped closer to me. She was nearly on top of me. "I'll cut you free, okay?"
"Mmmmm."
I saw Damon sneaking up behind her. Chloe must have been ready, however, because she pulled a gun and fired.
I heard the sound of Damon getting hit by a bullet to the shoulder. He grimaced, but I don't think Chloe's shot hit home well enough. In a rage, Damon charged the closing distance.
He swung wildly with a crowbar, but Chloe ducked just in time. The momentum from Damon's haphazard swing propelled him to my lap.
I laced both of my fingers together to form a giant fist. I smacked him across the jaw. With a sickening crunch, he slumped to the ground. I winced. My hand felt like I dipped them in Mount St. Helens.
"Thank God," Chloe cried.
She ran over to me and tried to tear the tape, but it was too strong. "Mm!" I called. I made a motion for the scissors with my fingers and nodded my head at the tool box.
Chloe nodded her head emphatically. She rushed over to the tool box and frantically searched. Finally, she found the scissors.
"The cops should be on the way. They're tracking me on the GPS. I just traced the license plate back to this warehouse. From there it was just a matter of getting here."
She raced over my way and cut off the binds on my wrists. From there I ripped off the tape on my mouth. She continued to try to talk to me, but I just gently grabbed the scissors and cut the tape around my waste. Chloe waited for me to finish. I tried to hurry. Just after I cut my right leg free, my heart stopped dead.
Chloe grunted in surprise after Damon struck her across the back with the crowbar. I hastily attempted to cut my other leg free, but stopped after a bullet almost lodged itself into my wrist.
I glanced up at Damon in trepidation. A bead of sweat slid down my throat, while a lump formed in my throat.
"Don't you fucking move," Damon growled.
I stayed statue still. I knew the barrel of the gun was now aimed at my head.
"Decent shot, Price. Next time, though, finish the job."
He lifted his leg. I could do nothing but watch Damon slam his foot down brutally on Chloe's left knee. I nearly yarfed hearing the sickening crunch of Chloe's knee snapping on the concrete.
Chloe yelped in pain. But he wasn't done.
Savagely, Damon lifted the crowbar. I knew what was coming. I closed my eyes, but that wasn't enough.
I heard the twack. I heard Chloe scream in agony. I forced my eyes to open. Chloe's right arm was bent at an awkward angle. He broke her damn arm.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I was numb. I couldn't feel anything at all. I glanced up at Damon.
"Wrong place, wrong time," he remarked.
He heaved the crowbar upwards. "Of all the fucking girlfriends, you had to choose her."
One last swing from the crowbar, and all I could see was black.
