So, I haven't updated in a while… But, I've been stuck on this chapter for such a long time. Writer's block sucks, doesn't it? And, school's started up once again, and I just haven't been able to find time to work on this chapter until now. But here it is! Not sure how good this chapter turned out, but I think it's okay. At least, I hope it is.
Logan's POV
The blinking red light of the camera in the corner of the room is driving me crazy. My heart is nearly jumping out of my chest, my head hurts, I still feel like I'm going to throw up, and that stupid red light won't stop. It just keeps blinking in my peripheral vision, reminding me that every little thing I do is caught on video. Every scream, every tear, every word. All of it is there for my kidnapper to play back and watch, as if raping me nearly every night isn't enough for him. No, he has to have it all saved on that camera, that fucking camera that won't stop blinking.
I need to get out of here before I go completely insane. I've been left to my thoughts for much too long, and I'm exhausted. I'm too terrified to go to sleep. The first time I let myself drift off I woke to that man stroking my hair, and who knows what else he did to me while I was unconscious? But the flashbacks, the "what ifs," the memories are draining me. I just want to go home and curl up next to James with his arms around me and lie there forever. I want to get away from that red light and the rape and the boredom, the constant fear.
"Help me!" I scream, even though I know it's useless. I know nobody can hear me except for the man who took me here in the first place, but I just can't take it anymore. "Somebody! Let me out of here! Let me out!" And then I just scream, over and over again, and I don't care if I'm losing my mind. All I want is to be out of this place, away from that man, away from that blinking red light. The door flies open, and I turn my head to glare at my kidnapper as he comes closer. He's hesitant to get too close, even though I'm tied up and there's no way I could hurt him.
"Logan?" he asks quietly, and I pull at my restraints as hard as I can, angry tears welling in my eyes. I need to get out of here. I need to get away. "Logan...? Logan!"
"What?" I scream, my eyes narrowing. "What the hell could you possibly want? Huh? You already have me tied to this fucking bed! Let me out of here!" I squeeze my eyes shut and scream until my throat feels raw, my voice cracking as it cuts off, and I fall silent. I can feel my kidnapper staring at me, can feel his presence only a few feet away. He doesn't say anything, and I can't help but quiver in fear as the tears increase, changing from angry to desperate. Is he mad at me? Is he going to hurt me? Or touch me again?
"It's, uh, time for your bathroom break," he says simply, and I slowly open my eyes, defeat making the tears flow faster. I can scream and cry and pull at my restraints as much as I want, but I'll still be stuck here. I'm not strong enough to get out of here on my own. When I don't respond, the man cautiously reaches for the ties around my wrists, his eyes glancing between me and the restraints. It's very possible he's afraid I'll start screaming again, and if my voice wasn't gone, I'd probably do just that. But all I can do is cry as he begins untying my right wrist from the bedpost, my body tensing up as I prepare to fight him. Every time he unties me for a bathroom break, I fight against his arms as he leads me to the bathroom, and every time I fail miserably to escape. I don't even know why I keep trying. Every time I fail to get away, it just hurts that much more to get tied up again.
As soon as the ties around my wrist loosen, I'm using all my strength to pull my arm free. Caught off guard, all my kidnapper can do is stare in shock as my fist connects with his jaw. He stumbles backwards, falling to the floor with a thud as he trips over something. Almost immediately I'm pulling at the rest of my restraints, heart racing as I wait for him to get up and come at me. But he doesn't get up, and in less than a minute I'm free of my restraints. Cautiously, I peer over the side of the bed, my eyes widening when I see him stir, his forehead bleeding profusely from a cut in his flesh. He must have hit his head on something when he fell. The large amount of blood doesn't concern me. Head wounds bleed a lot. Before he can get back up, I'm hopping off the bed, vaguely aware of the fact that I'm wearing only a shirt, my pants and boxers nowhere to be found. I sprint for the door, stopping in my tracks when I catch a glimpse of a phone on a table in the corner. My phone. Heart pounding, I hurry towards it, snatching it up before sprinting once again for the door. It's open just a crack, and I fling it open, eyes darting from side to side as I quickly take in my surroundings. I'm in a rather long hallway, leading to the left and right. A flight of stairs is just barely visible far to my right. Before I can really think about it, I'm slamming shut the door I just exited, thanking God that it locks from the outside. Hope swells in my chest. I've actually managed to get away from him, and now he's locked in the bedroom. The next thing I do is turn on my cellphone, instantly dialing the number I know by heart, hoping he'll answer. But of course he'll answer; he always does. It rings once, twice, three times, and I frown, my stomach sinking. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up-
"Logan?"
"James!" I nearly shriek, letting out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Oh, thank God. I'm so scared, James. I have no idea where I am, but I got away. I locked him in a bedroom."
"L-Logan," James says softly. "Are you alright? J-just stay calm and get somewhere safe." Biting my lip, I glance at the locked door before heading towards the stairs. A loud bang is heard, the door rattling as my kidnapper tries to break free.
"He's trying to get out. I- James, I'm terrified. What if he gets out?" I'm sobbing now, panic creeping into my chest. "What if he catches me? I can't stay here any longer. I miss you so much, and he's- He's hurting me, James."
"I-I know," James replies, his voice shaky. "He's been sending me videos." My whole body goes cold, and I pause at the top of the stairs. "I'm s-so sorry Logan, but it's going to be okay. I'm here. I'm always here. You c-can do this."
"He, he sent you videos?" I breathe, and suddenly the video camera makes so much more sense. My kidnapper's been recording me being raped to show to James. But...why?
"Yeah, but that doesn't matter right now. Just get out of there." But I can't seem to move. James knows what's going on, and if he knows then Kendall and Carlos probably know as well. They all know I've been...raped. What will they think when they see me? How are they going to treat me? I don't think I could stand seeing pity in their eyes, or sympathy or sorrow. Will I even be able to face them?
With a loud bang, the bedroom door flies open, and I whip around to face my kidnapper as his eyes rest on me. Almost instantly he's running for me, blood trickling down his neck from the wound on his forehead. My breath catches in my throat, and without thinking I take a step back. I scream as I feel myself falling backwards, my foot landing on the edge of the first step at a funny angle. My ankle twists painfully, and I throw my arms out, clawing desperately at the walls, but it's no use. I twist myself around as a fall, throwing my arms out in front of me to brace myself for impact. I land on the steps hard, the phone flying from one hand as the other bends under me. There's a loud snap and pain shoots up my arm. I cry out, curling in on myself as I fall the rest of the way. My ankle is twisting and my wrist is definitely broken, but other than that I'm okay. I hold my wrist close to my chest, letting out a shaky breath. It feels numb now, a sure sign that it's not just a sprain. Carefully, I feel around my wrist. It's a clean break, thankfully. The same cannot be said for my phone. It's laying only a few feet away, broken, pieces spread out across the floor.
Fear overtakes me as I focus my attention on my kidnapper as he walks down the stairs. He's angry, his eyes narrowed, his breath coming out in furious pants. And James isn't here to save me. His words echo in my head. 'I'm here. I'm always here' But he's not here. He doesn't know where I am. My phone is broken, and now I'll never be able to hear his voice again. My kidnapper is going to kill me, and James's voice isn't in my ear, telling me it's going to be okay. He's not here to comfort me.
"Get up," my kidnapper says as he reaches me, and I gaze up at him, quivering.
"I-I'm sorry," I whisper, and it's all I can think of to say. However, this just seems to make him even angrier.
"Get. Up," he repeats, preceding to roughly grab my arm and pull me to my feet. I wince as pain shoots up my arm, my wrist dangling. My ankle protests as I rest my weight on it, but the pain is bearable compared to the sharp pain that surrounds my broken bone. "Up the stairs." I take in a shaky breath before stepping forward, trying not to completely break down. I can't believe I messed up this badly. I was so close to getting away. If only I hadn't stopped at the top of the stairs. Maybe if I'd just kept going I could have gotten away. And James... He's probably worried out of his mind.
As I reach the top of the stairs, my kidnapper right behind me, I force myself to glance back at him. He meets my eyes, the normal bright blue of his irises now a dark indigo, and I can't tell if the change in color is because of the poor lighting or his anger. I sniffle a bit, my throat tight. I want to scream, but I can't seem to find my voice.
"Keep walking," he snarls, pushing me forward, and I practically run to the door I escaped from just minutes before. I briefly consider trying to lock him out of the room somehow, but he's already so furious with me, and I don't want to take my chances. He pushes me into the room, and I hurry to the far corner, sinking down to my knees, my broken wrist held close to my chest. I stare up at him, my eyes wide and pleading. He's going to kill me now; I just know it. He's going to kill me and I'm all alone and my wrist hurts, and James, Kendall, and Carlos are going to be so upset. But when he lunges towards me, there's no weapon in his hand, and all he does is grab my shirt, tugging it over my head. I try desperately to sink into the ground, my body tensing up as I wait for him to start touching me. His arms wrap around me, and he hoists me over his shoulder, something James often does, but this man is nothing like James. His grip is much too tight, his fingers digging into my hips. I bite my lip, letting my body go limp. There's no sense in fighting him.
He heads for the rather large bathroom that connects to the bedroom. Inside is a toilet, sink, shower, and a single window, it's curtain blocking the view outside. I haven't had a chance to pull back the curtain and look at my surroundings. My kidnapper is always in here with me during my bathroom breaks, and he won't let me go anywhere near it. I'm literally thrown into the shower, landing hard on my butt. My tailbone throbs with pain, and I can tell there will be a bruise there tomorrow. I refrain from making any noise, watching as he quickly sheds his clothes and steps into the shower with me. In one quick motion he turns on the water, and the scorching liquid hits me full on. I whimper softly, the water much too hot. It burns as it runs down my body. My kidnapper seems unfazed, silently staring down at me.
"It's hot," I manage to choke out, but he just keeps staring at me, and I'm surprised I'm not having a panic attack by now. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and I'm sure he must be able to hear it.
"Yeah?" he replies, voice cold. "Too bad." He lifts me up, pinning me against the wall. "You're such a naughty boy, Logan. You actually tried to run away."
"I'm sorry," I say again, and he just laughs, a small smile playing at his lips.
"You're not sorry, and I don't like when people lie to me." I don't know what else to say, and so I just look away, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "You'd better hope to God that call wasn't being traced." He flips me around, my wrist stuck between the wall and my body. I cry out in pain and pull it free, fresh tears cascading down my cheeks. "And your wrist. You fucking broke your wrist! I have half a mind to tie it back up to the bedpost anyway." I tremble, crying out once again as he shoves into me from behind, my hands turning into fists as I try not to scream. He slides out again almost immediately, slamming back in, and I let out a choked sob, soft whimpers falling past my lips as he continues to rape me once again. It's uncomfortable, and it hurts, and I'm fairly certain I'll never enjoy sex again.
"Stop, stop, stop!" I scream, trying to squirm away, but his grip on my hips is too strong. I'm stuck in that spot.
"You don't even fucking appreciate everything that I do for you! You had your phone, and who did you call? James. He's all you can think about. You could have called the police, but no, you had to fucking call him!" He accentuates the last word with a hard smack to my ass, and I wince, sucking in a sharp breath. I just want it to stop. It needs to stop.
"Yeah? Well I'm sorry for not appreciating you raping me nearly every night! I'm sorry for not appreciating being tied to that goddamn bed and being told when I can go to the bathroom and not being able to see my boyfriend!" I scream, blinking away both my tears and the water from the shower head, trying to clear my vision. "I'm sorry you're so fucking messed up! I'm sorry I don't love you. No, no wait, I'm not sorry. I hate you." His grip tightens on my hips, and then I'm being thrown out of the shower, landing on my back in front of the sink. My head hits the floor, and I blink away the black dots that dance before my eyes.
"James doesn't love you, Logan," my kidnapper says, standing over me. "I'll prove it to you. Just wait." And then he's gone, slamming and locking the door behind him. I curl in on myself, trying to calm down. I'm relatively okay. At least I'm alive, and I'm no longer tied up. And there's no video camera with a blinking red light recording every little thing that I do. Hopefully James won't be getting anymore videos.
Once I feel I'm calmed down enough, I slowly sit up. My ass hurts, my wrist hurts, and my head hurts, but my heart aches even more. I'm so lonely and homesick. I don't even know how far away home IS. Remembering he window, I push myself to my feet, stumbling towards the window and ripping open the curtain. I'm high up, possibly on a second or third story, and there's trees everywhere. I'm in a house, in the middle of the woods, in what seems like the middle of nowhere. We may not even be in California anymore, and if we are, it's much further North than LA. As I look closer, I notice a small drop-off a few yards away, and the land around the house is littered with small hills. We're not...in the mountains, are we? A small bird flies past, and I watch it go, jealousy creeping into my heart. If only I could fly away from here, and be free. I sink to my knees once again, my legs shaking too hard to stand. I can't stay here. I can't.
So, that wasn't too bad, was it? But, god, I'm just horrible to Logan, aren't I? Curse this FCMD of mine!