Ok, so I didn't get this posted as fast as I wanted to, but at least it didn't take a whole month again, right? Anyway, here's the next chapter, in Logan's POV, as promised. :)
Logan's POV: one week later
I watch as the trees sway, birds flying past every so often. Everything outside the window seems easier, simpler. It's full of life and beautiful, the sun just starting to peek through the trees. I used to love the sun. Now it's just a painful reminder that I've lived another day, that I didn't die in my sleep like I've been wanting to. I could always just break through the glass on the window, fly like the birds before hitting the ground, but I can't do that to James. I can't end my life and leave him alone for good. And so I sit here day after day, watching the world go on around me, willing myself to simply never wake up each time I fall asleep. That way if I die, it's not really my fault, and I don't have to feel eternal guilt.
I move my arm slightly and wince. I made a makeshift splint out of toilet paper rolls and other assorted things I found in the bathroom, but it doesn't completely hold my wrist still, and every little movement hurts. I'd begged my kidnapper to take me to a hospital. I promised I wouldn't say anything. But he refused, shoving me against the wall and raping me roughly, just for asking. Angry tears sting my eyes, and I force myself away from the window, pacing around the bathroom. It feels too small, too confining.
"Fuck!" I scream, running my hands through my hair. I sit down on the toilet, hanging my head as the tears fall harder. I can't take this anymore. My body shakes with sobs and I scream, because I'm losing my mind, like I've already lost my freedom, and it just fucking hurts. Everything is falling to pieces around me and I can't do anything about it. What's the point in living if you already feel dead? What is there for me in this world anymore? I'll never be free of this place I'm in, both physically and mentally. I've fought off the insanity with everything I have, but I know I can never go back to the state of mind I was in before all this happened. My mind will forever hold me here, and I'll never be able to go anywhere on my own or have sex, and I'll be too much of a burden for everybody. I'll be too much of a burden for James.
My heart throbs painfully in my chest. Out of everything that's happened, being away from James is what's affected me the most. Just being with him has always been enough to calm and reassure me. Without him, I fall apart a little more each day. And every day he doesn't come for me, my need of him grows. I've always believed that if something ever happened to me, James would be there within the hour, my knight in shining armor. But he hasn't come, and though my brain tells me it's not his fault, that there's no way he could know where I am, my heart feels betrayed. It's been roughly a month now, and he still hasn't come. Isn't he out there searching for me? Doesn't he care?
I shake my head, pushing away my thoughts. They're dangerous thoughts, thoughts that make you lose hope, faith. I know he's out there going crazy looking for me. I know he loves me and is doing everything he can to get me back. My eyes close and I remember his face, the soft curves of his back, his chest. I smile through the tears, a soft, fragile smile that feels fake, like some kind of made-up reality. He's always here, in my dreams, my mind, my heart. But he's never HERE, and every time I open my eyes I'm reminded of that fact. And every time I open my eyes, that reality seems a little further from the truth.
"James, I need you," I whisper, and my voice sounds pathetic even to my own ears. "Please come for me. Please find me." I open my eyes, my stomach sinking at the all too familiar cream-colored walls and white tiles, the double sink and toilet, the bathtub that I've grown to hate. The entire room mocks me with its harsh reality, and I can't stop the tears from falling. You'd think a person could only cry for so long, that there would eventually be no more tears left, but the truth is you cry long after the tears dry up. In fact, you don't really ever stop crying. Your eyes may be dry, but you feel the sobs deep in your chest, in the very center of your being. It makes your heart hurt, your stomach knot. Every bone in my body breaking all at once could not compare to the emotional pain I feel. Physical wounds may scar, but the pain eventually goes away. With emotional wounds, the pain lasts forever.
A sudden knock on the door makes me jump so hard I fall off the toilet seat. My breathing speeds up and my heart pounds in my ears. Please no, not now, not now. I curl up in a ball as I sob impossibly harder. Please don't let him touch me again. Don't let him hurt me anymore.
"Logan? You alright in there?" The door opens, and I feel each vibration of his footsteps like an earthquake. My whole body shakes, my breath catching in my throat. "I brought you breakfast. Should I just leave it on the floor or...?" Anger swells in my chest, but I won't stand up to him, not now when I'm so vulnerable and trapped.
"Just go away," I say weakly, my voice cracking on the last word. I hear him set down the tray of food and then he's sitting beside me, his hand on my back. I cringe, but I don't try to move away for fear of upsetting him. The littlest things set him off lately.
"Please don't cry, Logan. It's okay. It's not so bad here, is it?" he says gently, and I just snort. It's worse than bad. I'm living in my own little Hell here.
"I said go away." It's a small act of defiance, but it's an act none the less, and I hold my breath as I wait for him to start hurting me. He moves his hand to my shoulder, turning me to face him, and even though I'm terrified, I can't help but look up at him with hate in my eyes. And suddenly I can't control my anger anymore. I unwrap my arms from around my chest and shove him away from me, my broken wrist screaming in protest. He looks surprised for a second before he narrows his eyes and gets to his feet, and my anger quickly fades away as he comes closer. My eyes widen as I realize I've fucked up. He's angry now, and once he's angry there's no stopping him. I hurriedly push myself back against the bathtub, trying desperately to get far enough away, to save myself from yet another rape. But he just walks faster, kicking me swiftly in the stomach once I'm in reach. I double over as the breath whooshes from my lungs, and he kicks me again, forcing my head back as his toe connects with my jaw. I start to scream, knowing it's useless, but it's the only thing I can do. My throat feels raw and my eyes burn with tears, and I just can't seem to get enough air. He falls to his knees on the ground, throwing his shirt off over his head before unzipping his pants and freeing himself.
"You like being rough, huh? Come suck my dick, slut," he growls, and I whimper in response, unmoving. He frowns before grabbing my neck and forcing me over to him, bringing my face down to his length. I try to turn away, but he moves his grip to my chin, pinching my nose shut. I close my eyes tightly as the tears continue to fall, willing myself to just die and be done with all of this. Seconds go by, and it becomes progressively harder to hold my breath. My whole body aches as I finally open my mouth and gasp for air, and immediately he's shoving into my mouth, gagging me, and for a second I think I'm going to suffocate anyway. But then he releases my nose, and I breathe in deeply as my throat burns from the intrusion. He's rough and careless, and I can feel my throat being rubbed raw. My hands move along the floor, trying to find a grip so I can push myself away, but it's no use. I'm trapped awkwardly between his legs, and my wrist throbs with every movement. I groan in pain as he thrusts hard up into my mouth, and he moans low in his throat.
"Just like that, baby," he says softly, and I feel sick to my stomach. "Do it again." I silently refuse, moving my arm up and punching him in the stomach. He growls and roughly shoves me away, and I cough as I take in a breath, the air burning my throat.
"Sto-op!" I choke out between coughs, curling in on myself.
"What do I do, Logan?" he says angrily, and I glance up at him, confused. "What can I do to make you not hate me?" My eyes narrow in disgust as I slowly force myself to sit up.
"Nothing you could ever do will make me stop hating you," I force out, my throat burning with every word. "I hate you with everything I have, down to the center of my being. I will never love you, and I will never stop trying to get away from you." Mustering up every ounce of strength I have left, I throw myself at him, fingernails digging into his skin, leaving deep marks before I'm punching him everywhere I can reach. The pain in my wrist fades away as my mind goes blank of everything but punching him, hurting him, killing him. I can't do this anymore. I can't be his hostage.
"Get off me!" he shouts, and I've never heard him angrier. He knees me in the groan, and I crumple, sliding off of him and landing on my side. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I kick him away from me, pushing myself to my feet. I manage to take three steps before he's throwing me to the ground, falling to his knees on top of me and shoving into me roughly. I scream, flailing my arms and kicking my legs as best I can, but I can't reach him, can't make him stop.
"Help me!" I scream, knowing damn well no one can hear me. "Stop it! No! Help!" My head is pulled back as my kidnapper grabs a hold of my hair.
"Say my name, you dirty little whore!" he shouts, and I frown, confused. I don't even know his name. Instead, I shout out the biggest defiance.
"James!" My head is shoved to the floor, and black dots swim before my eyes as my skull throbs. I can hear my heartbeat racing in my ears.
"Paul!" he screams, lifting my head before slamming it back into the floor. "My name is Paul!" Once again, my head is slammed into the floor, and I cry out in pain, bringing my arms forward to cushion the next landing. Paul releases my hair, pulling out of me and standing up. He's out the door within seconds, slamming it shut behind him. I hear it lock and then he's stomping out of the bedroom. There's a loud, angry scream before the bedroom door is also slammed shut, and then everything is silent. Too confused to cry, I slowly sit up and look around in a daze. Did he really just get up and go? After I said that? I frown as I rack my brain for any memory of a Paul in school, but it doesn't ring any bells. I guess I really was too busy with James to pay attention to him. But is that really my fault?
I notice his shirt lying a few feet away, and though I don't want to touch anything of his, much less wear it, I'm sick of constantly being naked. The bathroom is cold, and I could use any bit of warmth I can get. I crawl over to the red fabric, tugging it over my head. It's big on me, more like a short dress than a shirt, but I don't care. The more it covers, the better. The tray of food Paul brought in earlier is surprisingly untouched, and I hurry over to it, my stomach growling. It's not much, just a bowl of cereal and some orange juice, but it's enough to fill my stomach for now. And if my stomach is filled, I can relieve some of the emptiness. The emptiness in my heart is enough.
Soooo, what did you guys think? Is it ok? The next chapter is already started, so expect that within the next week. :)