Anyone But You
A/N: Woo. Quick update. Anyways, thank Parakeet17 for this, because I wanted to update and wish her a happy belated 14th birthday. Much thank yous to all reviewers, anyways, Enjoy!
Anyone But You
Chapter Nine
I couldn't move or speak, or do anything but live. It was almost as if I was paralyzed, feeling every motion going on around me but not being able to do a thing about it. I had no idea where I had already been, or where I was heading, all I knew was that I wasn't safe. I could still feel the icy touches on my skin and a stinging tingle beneath my eyes. I could feel the fear and my heart beating faster than it ever should. Frozen in place, my mind was racing. I wanted to scream, and cry, and pray that this would all end. I was begging, just begging to die because I didn't want to wake up and find out exactly where I was. I didn't want to endure more torture just to die in the end anyways. Even if I did live, I didn't want to with the guilt on my shoulders, just knowing he didn't make it.
I could feel the breeze on my skin, and I heard the slamming of doors. Fingers were making imprints on my arms and the crinkle of plastic was present in my ears. My chest was rising and falling steadily, my lungs taking over and breathing involuntarily because I couldn't. I just wanted them to stop, to give out and let me choke. I wanted to be able to hold my own breath until I couldn't breath anymore. I didn't want to give him, the killer, the satisfaction of knowing he was about to end my life. I wanted to fight, and if I could end it myself then he wouldn't be able to. He wouldn't win.
There was a smooth coldness pressing against me from all angles, swallowing me up as I listened for the sound of a zipper. I was limp, unable to move, and yet I still knew what was happening. I was in a body bag. Did he think I was dead already? Had the police come and thought I wasn't living anymore? I think in that minute, I was most afraid of being buried alive. Afraid of never seeing my family again, my friends. I was afraid I would never apologize to Nick for wishing he was dead. It was almost like I had gotten my wish now, and I was dying along with him. What had we gotten ourselves into?
For a while there was nothing. Silence and the constant feeling of being enveloped. I was worried that I would suffocate surrounded by this plastic bag, but I didn't. I always had just enough air to fill my lungs. Just enough air to gasp on, and to sputter. At least if my breathing was involuntarily, I couldn't hyperventilate, I couldn't take in more air than I needed. I was at least grateful for that. The fact that I was temporarily paralyzed was saving my life right now, keeping my body in a calm state while my mind did the panicking.
I still couldn't comprehend where I was. The scene in Jason's guest room was on repeat in my mind, and if I could do anything at all, I would be crying. The terror was still resting in my soul, and I wanted to shake. God, what had I ever done to deserve this? Where was everyone when I needed them most? I couldn't even imagine not making it out of this. I had had so many plans, so many goals for my future. Then again, I imagined Nate did too. Was he dead already? Had they already offed him? The thought sent me into even more panic than I had already been in. This was all my fault. I wish we had been on better terms. I wish I told him I was sorry, and I wish I had thanked him for being there for me when I needed him Friday night. I could only hope that the police, Jason, someone would find my clue. I could only hope someone would justify our deaths and catch the guy.
Suddenly I could hear voices around me. There was shuffling, and telephones ringing. People were chattering as if nothing was happening and I couldn't understand why. I couldn't understand why no one was jumping to help me. Didn't they care? Did they even see me? Did they know I was here, that I was alive? Why were so many people awake, and chatty in the middle of the night? Perhaps it was much later than I thought it was. Was I missing something? Had I blacked out for much longer than I thought I had?
Again I heard the slam of a door and I felt myself being dragged down a staircase. Inside I was screaming, trying to endure the pain of my head slamming against the steps over and over again. They were concrete stairs, I could tell. The smell of wherever I was hit my nostrils and it was cold and dank. My heart was almost pushing out of my chest with each beat as my body was pulled along the floor. The bag was scraping against the concrete and I began to get some of the motion back into my body. My eyelids slowly slid open and I found myself shrouded in darkness. There was nothing, so I let them close again. I remained silent, hoping and pleading that maybe they thought I was dead already. Maybe they would leave me here, thinking they had finished me off. Then I could make my escape, I could attempt to get out and live as just plain Lilly for the rest of my life. Why hadn't I thought of that in the first place? They weren't looking for Lilly. But then again, I couldn't just leave Nate. I couldn't shove this all on his plate and make him face it alone. We had to stick together, to help each other, and I would never be able to live with myself if I hadn't tried to protect him from this.
I felt the zip of the zipper against my skin undoing and revealing myself to whoever was above me. I could see the faint light of the room beneath my eyelids, but I didn't dare to move. I could feel fingers pressing against my skin once again, pulling me from the bag and gripping me much too tight. The upper half of my body was being lifted, but my legs still skidded across the cement floor. I felt the skin on the back of my legs being scratched by the coarse cement, the skin peeling off and scraping. I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins, and seeping out through the cuts on my legs.
They were talking again. Instead of the chatter, I could hear two distinct voices. I recognized one of the men's voices, but I had no idea where from. I couldn't understand much of what they were saying, but I knew they were talking about me. Nate's name came up and my body tightened immediately. I strained to listen, just hoping they would give me some inclination that he was still alive. I needed to know he was alive and I needed to know he was okay. I tried to focus, shuffling quietly closer to them. As soon as I moved, I felt the pain shooting up from every area of my body. I wanted to moan, to groan, to let out a breath, but I knew how costly it could be.
I shuffled again, listening. I heard them say that Nate was "taken care of" already, and I wanted to cry out, my suspicions confirmed. My head immediately leaned back, my eyes feeling that familiar sting beneath them. Every pain in my body vanished then, and all I could feel was my heart racing, beating twice as fast for the beats his heart would never beat again. My breathing was quicker, breathing every breath he had lost. All I cared about then was him, what I had selfishly put him through. I felt like a murderer, I felt like I had killed him. It made me want to die, because if I had cost him his life, the least I could give was my own.
There was movement again around me, and I was afraid to open my eyes. I was afraid to see who my captors were, afraid to see where I would be for the last minutes of my young life. I squeezed my eyes tighter, not for a moment thinking it made me seem overly obvious. I could feel an icy chill on my neck as one of the men breathed over me. I could feel his eyes on my body, watching me closely as I tried to relax, to not give myself away. It was difficult, and I pressed on, trying be unnoticeable. I wanted to sink into the cement below me, to disappear and to cease existing. I wanted to become invisible to them and they're leering eyes.
I felt a slam into my ribs, and I almost doubled over in pain. The breath was knocked out of me momentarily, and my eyes squeezed shut tighter. My mouth was wide, gasping at the air but I couldn't suck anything in. I couldn't breath, and I felt another slam into my side. When I regained my breath, I leaned my head back down onto the cement, breathing deeply and intently, trying to taking in all the air I could. I forgot all about these two men for just a few seconds, focusing on my lungs as they filled and then emptied again, repeating the process.
"Wake the fuck up," Another slam to my temple, one I recognized immediately. I had familiarized myself with the feeling back in Jason's apartment. It was the feeling of a gun being whipped against my head, snapping it to the side. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes opening slowly. I panted into the air, trying to keep my lungs rising and falling at a steady rate and trying to keep all the pain in check. Whatever I had endured back at the apartment was apparently nothing compared to what I had in store for me here.
My eyes teared up as I turned my head back to it's previous position. There was a man kneeling next to me, gun in hand, but his voice wasn't the one I found so familiar. Catching a glance at him, I recognized his face clearly. It was the face in my nightmares, the one I had seen down that cold alleyway Friday night. I wanted to move, to run, to back up away from him but I couldn't. I was frozen with fear, and the pain that he had caused in my side was stunning me still. He had me trapped here, laying on a cold, grey, cement floor. This was it.
His hand gripped my arm, pulling me up to my feet. It was clear to me that he was much stronger than I was and I would never be able to fight him off. My body was smashed into the wall after that, his own pressing up against me menacingly. I felt his skin collide with my own and it made me sick. My shirt was balled up into his fist, holding me against the wall. It reminded me of the way I'd seen so many jocks hold so many of the 'nerds' against the walls at school. However at school there was always a principal, or a teacher to stop anything. Even if there wasn't, it never got as serious as the situation I was in right now. It never seemed so tantalizing.
I felt blood against my neck, the red tangles of the wig sticking to it as I moaned. I was cut short, my head crashing back into the wall again. I snapped my mouth shut, silencing myself, and willing myself to come around. Everything was fuzzy and hazy, and I couldn't concentrate. The pressure against my chest suddenly disappeared, and when I raised my eyes up, the man was gone too. I lifted my hand, pressing it to the side of my head and trying to steady myself. When I pulled my hand away, there was red dripping off my fingers, and I stared at it. It was so incomprehensible, like this all wasn't really happening. It felt like a dream and I wanted to wake up so so badly.
"Lola Luftnagle, isn't it?" A voice mocked me. I lifted my eyes, looking into eyes I could remember well. My own eyes narrowed as I glared at the figure. He knew full well who I was.
"Fuck you," I spat, wobbling on my own legs. I had trusted this person, and everyone around me had too. How had I been so stupid?
"That's no way to speak to me, is it?" He asked, a smiling playing on his lips. His shoes tapped against the floor as he moved closer towards me. The man who had hit me before was slinking off to the side, watching carefully. He had committed a murder, but yet now he was choosing to slink away? Cowardice, isn't it? Couldn't he just follow through already and save me the trouble. Might as well aim his gun already and pull the goddamn trigger.
I ignored the words that floated through the cold air, choosing not to respond. My eyes said it all as they narrowed dangerously into slits. I followed his path towards me, my gaze never leaving his. I knew he knew exactly what I was saying. I knew there wasn't any confusion between us. He had manipulated us all, used us for information. To serve and protect? Lies. I was being anything but protected right now, I was being tortured.
He walked closer and closer to me, passing the various filing cabinets. Finally, his footsteps stopped, and so did he when he stood right up against me. His chest pressed against mine, and he looked down on me like I was nothing more than dirt. Did he have no value of human life? Didn't he realize I was a person, and not something to play around with. My thoughts were cut short and my mouth let out a gasp. His calloused hand was pressed up against my hip, playing with the ends of my shirt. His fingers danced dangerously against my skin, pushing my tank top higher up. His hands gripped my side, right near my rib, and I cried out in pain. He pressed deeper into the bruise, finding some sort of sick satisfaction in the pain it caused me. Without another notice, the pressure disappeared, and his face was next to mine, his breath against my neck.
"Did you know your not in the records?" He whispered threateningly. His fingers trailing back down my side and hooking themselves just underneath the waistband of my shorts. I pressed my eyes closed, trying not to cry. "Lola Luftnagle doesn't exist, did you know that?" He asked me again, his breath cold and menacing. He was speaking almost as if he knew that I knew something he didn't. I could tell he wanted information from me, but I wasn't going to give in, not if I was going to die anyways.
"You better fucking answer me," He spat, his face coming back to look at me, "Open your eyes, damnit." He spoke, and immediately I obeyed. His face was right up close to mine and his eyes darted between my own, searching for answers. I stayed still and quiet, barely breathing as I watched him intently. I wanted to cry, but I needed more than ever to stay strong.
"I'm not telling you anything," The words slipped from my lips. He looked outraged, but didn't move even a centimeter from me. The both of us stood there, neither moving, or speaking, just watching each other. His eyes were flickering with something unknown to me, something I hadn't seen before. I felt his hands tighten against my hips, gripping them and pulling me off the wall. I was jerked away by the sudden movement, my body crashing into his. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me, he just held me there against my will.
"Don't touch me," I seethed, my breath mingling with his. His lips just painted a malicious smile, and he didn't even move to release me.
"I've been watching you," He informed me, pulling me even closer, "You're quite the character." I hardly registered what he was saying. The only thing that caught itself in my train of thought was that I had been a target much longer than I had suspected. I had been a target and I had brought Nate into this. He wasn't part of it, but I had foolishly made him a part of it. God, this is all my fault.
"I've already told you, you're beautiful," He whispered, his face inching closer to mine, "and you're so stubborn," He added. Before I knew what was happening, he was pushing his lips on my own forcefully. I tried to scream, and my hands found his chest, attempting to push him away. I pushed harder and harder, put he forced his own body against mine, slamming me against the wall. A crack rang out, and I was sure that it was my own bones breaking. I couldn't push him away, and so I did the only thing I could think to do. His mouth was on mine, so I bit his lip, hard, pressing down until I tasted blood.
"Fucking cunt," He yelled, pulling away from me. I struggled to breath and watched as he placed his hand up to his lip. When he saw the blood on his own fingers, he looked back to up to me, snarling. His hand reached up, slapping me across the face. His own breathing was ragged, as he turned around, bringing his hands back to his lips. I spat the blood from my own mouth and onto the ground, straightening up. Neither men were watching me anymore.
"Where's Nate?" I shouted. One of the men looked over his shoulder, but didn't give me a second glance, "Where is he?!" I yelled again, to a point of breaking down. The man I recognized from the alleyway whirled away, took a step towards me and smacked me in the face with his gun. When I kept quiet, he turned back around, discussing something with the second man. They were talking about something for a few minutes, until they both immediately shut up. I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and apparently so could they. The 'leader' of the two, jerked his head towards me, and the alley man came to my side, pulling me into a row of filing cabinets and pressing me into them. He had his hand over my mouth, and another digging into my arm. I whimpered lightly, but other than that, I didn't make a sound.
I listened as the room's door opened, and light footsteps padded inside. "Hey, Officer Miller," A voice said and I nearly jumped. I screamed beneath the man's hand, trying to redirect the attention to myself. I knew that voice so well. It was Oliver. But I had to question what the hell Oliver was doing here. Was he in on this? I couldn't let myself believe that my best friend since preschool was plotting with these men to murder me.
"My mom wanted me to grab some files. She's working on the Gray's case. Apparently some new information came up." That's when I knew. Ollie had mentioned he was interning with Mrs. Oken at the police station. Apparently thats where I was right now, in the files room. I screamed again, and the hand pressed tighter against me. I felt the barrel of a gun pressing against my temple again, and I quieted immediately.
"If you make another noise," The man breathed quietly, "I swear to God, I'll blow yours and this kid's head off." He spoke. I silenced myself. I couldn't do that to Ollie. I'd already put Nate in a compromised position, and I would under no circumstances do it to my best friend.
"I'll get them for you," A voice who I could now call Officer Miller spoke. He rounded the rows of filling cabinets, grabbing out a dark blue folder with a handful of papers inside. He came back to Oliver, handing him the folder and ruffling the hair on his head. I could tell Oliver wouldn't appreciate it, after all, he was eighteen now.
"And my mom wants to talk to you, too," Oliver spoke, and Officer Miller stiffened, "Something about Nate Gray's disappearance being connected to Lola Luftnagle's," He said. When he spoke the name of my alter ego, I could hear his voice lowering, almost as if he couldn't bare to say it. At least I knew that someone was missing me, that someone was missing Lilly and not just Lola.
"Sure thing, kiddo," Miller spoke playfully, a tone he hadn't bothered to use on me. The only thing he spoke to me with was malice in his voice and lust in his eyes. It made me sick to my stomach to even remember the icy trails his fingers had left on me. It was something I was sure I would never forget. I heard the door shut again in the distance and I knew that Oliver was gone. The hand on my mouth disappeared, and I was shoved from the row back into the open. Miller was standing there, arms crossed against his chest and shaking his head towards me.
"You got lucky this time," He muttered, and nodded his head towards the other guy, "You know what to do," He told him. I watched as Miller opened the door, retreating to the main level of the Malibu police station to talk with my best friends mother about my own case. I let it slip my mind for a moment that I was still in danger, here with this other man, but by the time I realized it, I was out cold yet again, seeing nothing but the darkness surrounding me.
When I finally came around again, I was still somewhat out of it. I could feel softness beneath me, so I knew I couldn't still be laying on the cold cement floor. There were blankets pulled around me, closing me in and I felt almost like I couldn't breath. Still half asleep, I shuffled around, throwing them away from myself. They reminded me too much of the tightness of the body bag. For a moments time, I was worried that I was back in the plastic, but this was all too comfortable. There was shuffling around me and I squeezed my eyes together, breathing deeply. I was so disorientated that I couldn't place where the noises were coming from. I heard my alter ego's name being called lightly, and I felt a light touch on my skin. It didn't have the icy feel of my captors, but it still brought me right back into that memory. I couldn't help but to release a low pained moan as I willed my eyes to open. I could feel every part of my body, tingling and stabbing, aching all over. The touch on my arm dissipated, but moments later, the warmth was pressing against my temple. I squinted my eyes, opening them slowly and meeting the light. My eyes danced around the room, wondering just where I was exactly. It wasn't a place I had any memories of, but yet I still felt so safe here.
"Lola? Hey..." A voice called to me. My eyes shot down to the figure kneeling next to my bed. He wore a comforting smile on his face, and I couldn't help but look confused. I felt his fingers brush away a few irritating strands of hair from my eyes as I looked up at him. I processed the curls, the eyes I knew so well, and then I spoke, hoping to god my eyes weren't decieving me.
"Nate?" I questioned. When I spoke, my voice didn't even sound like my own. I sounded weak and defeated, mirroring the emotions that were swirling beneath the surface. I watched his eyes and he looked so concerned. His hands brushed back more loose strands from my face and then he answered me back.
"Yeah," He said, "It's me." Relieved, I turned my head, pressing it into the pillow, trying to get comfortable. Immediately, I pulled away, letting out a breath. My face stung, and I was met with flashes of exactly why. I couldn't count the number of times I had been whipped in the face with a pistol. Of course, Miller's slap to my cheek would have added to whatever bruise I was sure was forming there. I raised my hand to cover my face, trying to ease away the pain, but I felt a touch that wasn't my own. He was there, watching me, the feeling of his skin on mine taking away all the hurt.
"Your okay," He told me. I reached my hand up, covering his with my own and silently thanking him for the gesture. I nuzzled my face against his hand, and looked up to him. That's when it hit me exactly who was next to me, and a smile spread across my face. I had thought he was dead, since he had been 'taken care of'. I couldn't even explain how glad I was to have him here with me; how happy I was to see his face.
"You don't know," I breathed, nuzzling his hand with my face once again and letting my eyes close, "You don't know how afraid I was." The familiar sting was resting beneath my eyes and I felt them begin to water. It was like a dream to have him alive and well in front of me. How I had ever let anything happen to him was beyond me, and I knew I could never loose him again.
"I was afraid you were dead," I confessed. He looked shocked to hear it, and I realized why. Before now all he had ever known from me was hate, and even I couldn't deny that. I don't think he realized just how much a part of my life he was and how truly important a role he played. He was my stability, my reassurance. He was the one thing I could always count on. For a while, he didn't say anything at all. My hand pressed tighter against his and my eyes darted between his, trying to read his emotions. Did he care that I cared? Had I treated him wrongly for so long that he discarded every word I was saying? Did he think I was lying?
"You should get some rest," He told me. I could feel myself growing tired, but I didn't want to sleep. Every time I did, I woke up someplace else, and I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk winding up on the filing room floor of Malibu PD again. I didn't want to go through it all over, and I didn't want to know what what happen if I hadn't gotten 'lucky' that time.
"I don't want to," I pleaded, worried. I felt his hand sliding out from under mine, but I held onto him tighter. I didn't want to be alone, to be vulnerable anymore. I didn't want him to leave me because he made me feel safe here.
"Just rest, okay? I'll be downstairs if you need me," He told me. Immediately I shook my head, trying to protest. I didn't want to be left alone. I watched him deeply, trying to convey every emotion to him. I tried to tell him how much I wanted him here.
"Don't leave me," I cried, "He'll come back for me and- and," I confided my worst fears in him. I didn't even want to finish the sentence. I had a vague idea of how far things could have gotten back on that cold floor. I was more than willing to bet that a forceful kiss wouldn't cut it for Officer Miller. I didn't want to go back there, and I didn't want him to touch me again. Already, I felt so used, so disgusting. The feeling of his hands over my skin was still ever present, a feeling I couldn't seem to loose. Unconsciously, my fingers reached up to play with the scratches he had left along my stomach. I hadn't even realized I was crying until Nate's hand came up to brush a tear from my cheek.
"I'll stay," He spoke softly, resting his head near mine on the bed. He turned his head away from me, watching the doorway protectively. Quietly, I played with his fingers as our hands still remained intertwined.
"He's never going to touch you again, okay?" His voice lingered in the air, "I promise you that." When he spoke the words, I felt so comforted. I had always prided myself on being strong and independent, but I couldn't help but be so grateful that he was willing to be my protector.
"Thank you," I whispered, voicing the words I was thinking, "And I'm sorry." I told him, telling him what I'd thought I would never get the chance to. Once I said it, I let myself relax, but I didn't sleep. My eyes slipped closed, and my breathing evened out, but I was too afraid to let myself really, truly rest. I inched closer, shuffling towards him. My head now rested much closer to his own and I could smell how amazing he smelt. It was something that played on my mind, making me loose track of time. Automatically, and rhythmically, my fingers threaded through his curls, calming me even more so. After a short while, I allowed the steady noise of his breathing lull me into sleep, and in a way, I embraced it.
When I awoke again for the third time that day, I noticed something immediately. The comforting presence next to me was no longer there. Panicked, I sat up immediately, wincing at the pain in my stomach and sides. My arms shot around my waist and I groaned, as the pain pulled through me. I groaned, and let the pain subside before I tried to move again. I pulled the covers away from me, wondering for a moments time how they had gotten there again in the first place, and placed my feet firmly on the floor. When I stood, I used the wall to steady myself, walking towards the doorway. When I neared the door of the room, I caught myself in the reflection of the wall's mirror. I swallowed a lump in my throat, seeing the large black splotch cascading down my face. My stomach lurched, and so did the memories as they came to the front of my mind. After watching myself for a moment and realizing that these marks were here to stay, I let myself wander into the hallway. When I came into the long room, I recognized it in two seconds flat. I was in the Grays's house and I was safe. Still holding the wall, I reached the stairs. I transferred my balance to the railing and guided myself down slowly.
"Morning," I heard a voice call out, "I made breakfast. I wasn't sure what you'd like so I made a bunch of stuff, I hope it's okay-" I cut him off. He was sitting at the table, a huge array of food spread out in front of him. A smile played on his lips, but I didn't return it.
"You said you'd stay," I spoke. My feet touched the last step lightly, and I felt somewhat weightless. There was betrayal and disappointment written all over my eyes. I had expected him to be there when I opened my eyes again, I had expected him to remind me that I was okay. My heart was sinking, and fast, giving me an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. But seeing him here now, made at least some of those feelings fade. Even if he hadn't reassured me when I woke, he had made me breakfast so I'd have something to eat. He had done something nice for me.
Slowly, my feet padded over and I watched his eyes shoot down to his plate. He stuffed his mouth with bacon, mostly because he didn't want to answer me. It almost made me smile at the look he gave, almost like he didn't want to disappoint me.
"You made this?" He nodded, "For me?" My eyes were scanning over everything, hardly believing it. He had made me everything just so I would have something I liked.
"Uh yeah... I guess," He admitted. I grabbed a fork, taking a bite of the egg in front of me. I would have laughed at the smiley faced plates, but I didn't have the heart.
"Thank you," I thanked him genuinely and he smiled at me. I figured I should start saying it more often. I still couldn't believe he had done this all for me even when I'd treated him so horribly. Then there was silence. The both of us ate our breakfast's, no words needing to be exchanged between us.
"Nate?" I asked, his head raised.
"Yeah?" He responded. I took a deep breath, voicing my concern.
"How did you find me? Did they catch him?" I asked. I figured that if I was in his house, someone had found me. Someone must've saved me from them. The only logical explanation was that it had been him, and I was forever grateful. I just hoped to God they had caught one of them in the act so they would pay. They would pay for what they put me through, for whatever they had done to Nate.
"I- Uh- No, Lola, they didn't catch him," He confessed, and I was immediately saddened. There was silence for a moment until the television caught my attention. It was speaking, telling us that I was still missing and so was he. The concept didn't make sense to me, considering we were sitting safely in his house, eating breakfast as his table.
"But we're here..." The words escaped my lips, and I furrowed my brows. I felt Nate's hand on my own and automatically pulled away. I felt lied to, like none of this was real. My eyes bore into his, still confused.
"Lola, it's- ugh," He breathed, "It's so complicated." My eyes immediately narrowed, shooting daggers at him. What did he know that I didn't?
"Explain," It was direct and forceful, something I was used to using with him.
"Alright, in a nutshell, this isn't my house," He spoke, grabbing a remote off the table and switching the television's channel, "This is." On the tv, different areas of his house were being displayed. Had he wired his house or something. I furrowed my eyebrows as it cut to a scene for a few seconds of the kitchen, yet we weren't there. He let it rest on a picture of his driveway, and I watched his parents car pull in. Immediately I looked to the front door, waiting for them to enter, but they never did. I looked back to him, confused, and wincing at the pain in my face. I ran my eyes over him as he stood from the table, grabbing my hand and leading me to the front entrance. We stopped there and he began to explain.
"The front door doesn't open," He jiggled the knob, "And the windows aren't really there." My eyes were focused on him as he stripped away the curtains, pushing up the window and revealing light bulbs to me. I could hardly believe my eyes as I just stared at it, shocked.
"My parents room is locked too, so is Jason and Frankie's. I don't even think there's a room behind those doors." I hardly heard a word he said. I vaguely recall him leaning up against the wall, but still, I couldn't pull myself away from the window. "Basically, he's trapped us here." That snapped me into attention, as he voiced the same feeling I'd felt back in the Malibu PD filing room.
"But... what?" I looked up to him, he nodded, "We're trapped?" It confirmed the worst for me. The floor began to sink beneath me and I felt like I was going to give away. I leaned against the wall for support and I felt myself begin to panic again. I couldn't breath, and the world was spinning, sending me spiraling downwards. Oh god, oh god. I was trapped. I felt hands on my shoulder, and then Nick's face clouded my vision.
"Lola," He asked, "What- what happened? What'd he do to you?" The memories came flooding back and I couldn't keep this strong facade up any longer. The tears spilled down, and I felt his arms wrap around me, comforting me as I relived the moments. They flashed against my eyes, the scrapes, the slams, the sickening feeling of Miller's lips on mine. All Nick did was rub my back, make me feel safe in a place where I knew I shouldn't let my guard down. He could come for me again at any time, whenever I least expected it, or whenever he wanted to. He could take me away again in the night and no one would ever know.
"You're alright," He whispered to me gently, "You've got me, okay? And I won't ever let you go." Silence settled between us for a few moments, until I couldn't bare it anymore. I wanted to tell him, I wanted to let him in.
"Oh god," I cried, digging my head into his chest, "I don't-," And the tears continued down my face. I couldn't even manage to say it. It scared me enough to watch the scenes replay, but I didn't want to voice them. Voicing it only made it that much more real.
"I don't want to go back there," I whispered into the fabric of his simple white t-shirt. I felt our bodies move side to side as he rocked us, trying to calm me down. It worked, and slowly my breathing returned to normal, my heart beating at a more natural speed. His arm slid from around my shoulder and I felt his warm, gentle touch move down my arm. He pulled my fists from his shirt, and into his own hands, still rocking us gently. He dipped his head lower, and I felt his breath against my cheek. The relieved the pain of the bruise, and I pressed my head against his chest again. I didn't want him to let me go, because he made me feel like everything was going to be alright.
I felt a tug against my hand, and I let him lead me up the stairs. I slowly follow, looking over my shoulder fearfully after ever few steps. We reached the top, and he pulled me into the first room; his. Or rather, it wasn't really his room, was it? We stood in the center of the room for a minute, and then he detached himself from me, turning to shut the door. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around myself again, as somewhat of a protection, but I realized I didn't need it when he pulled me right back to him.
"Tell me," He whispered to me, placing a soft kiss to my forehead. My mind reeled, and I couldn't help but be reminded of the other kiss I'd endured today. It was something I didn't want to remember.
"I can't," I breathed, latching myself onto him tighter.
"Please," He pleaded, "What'd he do to you?" He pulled his head back, casting me a serious look. His touch traced the bruise on my face, and I leaned into it.
"They hit me," I slipped, my eyes sliding shut. I felt him stiffen, and I suddenly opened my eyes, furrowing them.
"They?" He questioned. My eyes closed again, and I nodded against his touch.
"Yeah," I spoke quietly, afraid that they would be listening, "They hit me… with their guns. Over and over," I sniffled. His arms wound around me, and he hugged me. He lost the seriousness in his eyes, and I could see the guilt. It was the same guilt that I felt over not being able to help him, to save him when I thought he'd been dead.
"He tried to kiss me," I cried. Nate Pulled away again, his eyes searching mine. He looked stunned, unable to believe what he was hearing. His hands were gripping my arms with a sense of protection, but he wasn't hurting me.
"He what?" He spat, anger in his eyes, "Did he do anything else to you?" I shook my head, "Do you swear to me, he didn't do anything else?" I could only nod. I thought it was obvious that he had touched my skin, the hand print bruises proof of it, and Nate could see that. The both of us only watched each other, Nate seething, and myself terrified. Our moment was cut short, a bang from the main floor interrupting us. We shared a look, and Nate tore away from me. He reached for the bedroom door, pulling it open.
"I'll kill him," He grumbled, on edge. Before I could stop him, he had flown out into the hallway, leaving me alone in his room. I moved after him, trying to catch him before he put himself in a terrible situation. I couldn't loose him, because if there was anything in this world that I needed now, it was him.
A/N: I hope the chapter was good. It seems I have no questions for you guys. Tell me what you liked, and if you think the change of feelings doesn't seem too sudden. Review please! Ps. I love long reviews.