Sorry, Charlie

by CHOOSELIFE

Third story in the Charlie series. This story picks up two and a half years after Drake's last overdose. Ricardo has forced him to clean up his act, but still Drake can't seem to get away from his past. Everyday is a fight to stay clean and now that he doesn't have his favorite red pills, his depression and anxiety are just as hard to kick as his drug addiction.

21. A Perfect Family

Author's Note: This chapter wasn't supposed to take so long to post, but I accidentally spent a ton of time editing the wrong chapter. On a positive note, the next chapter should be up pretty quickly.

---

A whiny sob left Drake's lips as he came to. The pain seemed to hit him all at once. His body ached all over, but the most prominent area was his left temple. The memories were coming back to him: the gentle shushing, the fire, the crying child, Megan's limp body, his ex-fiancée. He recalled being hit with a tire iron once...twice... It was the third hit that made him lose consciousness. The ones before had just been blinding pain.

As he looked around, he found himself on a bed. He didn't recognize the room at all. The walls were white, but a soft pink accented the room via its curtains, decor, comforter, etcetera. It kind of reminded him of Gemini's bedroom in a way, but this wasn't that.

When he went to move his hands, he found that they were secured behind his back, binding him to the bars on the bed frame. For a moment, he could feel his mind trying to drag him back to his father's house, but he shook those thoughts from his head.

"Meg—" His throat was dry, causing him to erupt into a coughing fit. This made his head pound even more.

Not long after, the bedroom door opened. "Ah, you're awake." It was Clementine. She gave him a smile as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "Hold on." She went over to the nightstand and picked up a cup. "Here." She pushed the straw between the boy's lips and let him drink.

He felt degraded when she pet his hair as if he were some type of dog. The first thing he asked when he could speak was, "Where are they?"

"Hmm?"

"Damn it, Dahlia! Where are they?!"

"Dahlia? That's not what you call me."

"You're right. I should call you a fucking cunt! Aahh!" he yelled when she pressed hard against a bruise he had on his ribs. "Aaahh! Stop! Stop!"

She did. "I'm fairly certain one of your ribs are broken," she informed. "That was an accident, darling."

He couldn't help that there were tears in his eyes. "I swear, if you lay one finger on my daughter, I will kill you."

"Now why would I ever want to harm our daughter, Drake?"

He felt sick to his stomach when he heard her take claim to the child she never helped create. "Where's Megan?"

"She's fine. They both are."

This did fill him with some relief. "What do you want from me?" he asked desperately.

"I don't want anything from you. I just want you. I want us all to be a family. Well, I didn't really plan on your sister being here, but we can make it work."

"You're in violation of the restraining order. They're gonna put you in jail."

"I don't think so, Drake."

"This is kidnapping! Have you lost your fucking mind? Crazy bitch."

Again, she pressed down on his injured rib and he screamed. When she felt as though he'd had enough, she asserted, "You don't talk to me like that!"

Drake was crying now because the pain was excruciating. It enraged him that he appeared so weak in front of her, even though they both already knew that he was. His voice came out quieter than he meant due to the pain, but it packed the same punch. "Fuck you!" Then: "Aaahhh!"

Two rooms over was where Megan and Charlie were kept. A bathroom with locked doors on each end connected them to Drake.

Charlie's crying got harder when she heard her father's muffled screams. She sat on Megan's lap and faced her aunt. Megan was on the floor with her knees bent slightly and leaning against a wall.

"Hey, it's okay," she comforted softly. "He's okay."

"I want Daddy."

"We'll see him soon, okay?"

Another scream emanated from down the hall. She placed her hands over Charlie's ears, then guided her closer so that she could kiss her forehead. She could feel a warmth stinging her eyes, but she was trying to stay strong. The sound of her brother in agony was terrifying and it brought back memories of the night drug dealers had broken into their home and of what had almost happened to her family. She wished there was someone here who could cover her ears as well.

Back in the other room, Drake was writhing on the mattress in pain. He was getting close to a breaking point, and he was about to give up, but he caught a break when she voluntarily stopped, letting him keep his dignity. Still, he wasn't brave enough to speak to her that way again.

"You done?" she asked strictly.

He hesitated, but ultimately, he knew he had to respond or else she'd hurt him further. He couldn't make eye contact when he nodded his head submissively.

"Brilliant."

As much as he hated even speaking to her, he knew he needed to get as much information as possible because it could help in the long run. "How long have I been here?"

"For most of two days."

This news was upsetting. If they hadn't been rescued within forty-eight hours, it was highly unlikely that they ever would be.

"Where are we?"

"My father's gaff. Well, the guest gaff. This is where I live now." She could see the twinkle of hope in his eyes and, like usual, she couldn't wait to crush it. "He's away on business for six months. Out of the country. It's just me here."

"Clem, why are you doing this?"

She was pleased that he called her the name he used to when they were together. To her, this was a win. For him, this was a means of manipulation.

"I think it's time that we actually sat down and had a chat. The last time we did that didn't go so well." Dahlia helped him sit up, and he winced at the pain.

"This is your idea of talking?" he asked.

"Don't you dare sit there and pretend I haven't tried talking to you civilly before. This is your bloody fault."

He had to give her what she wanted. "You're right. You did try several times and I shouldn't have ignored you, but Clem...kidnapping?"

"What else was I supposed to do? If I showed up, you would just yell for Ricardo," she said, "or ring the police again. How was I ever going to get the chance to talk to you?"

"Well, I'm listening now," he said.

"You don't care what I have to say."

"Of course I do."

"You're just pretending," she said. "I can tell."

Drake sighed. "Clem, I do wanna talk to you. It's just hard to do that when you're holding my little sister and my daughter hostage."

"They're fine."

"Let me see them."

"You don't trust me?"

"I just wanna see them. Please?"

Dahlia gave in. "Okay, fine, but then we're going to have our chat." She went through the shared bathroom and soon returned with both girls.

"Drake!" Megan said, and she hurried over to her brother, holding Charlie in her arms. When she reached him, she gave him a hug and quickly realized that he couldn't return it.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He could feel her hands touching his wrists while she hugged him, feeling for the material he was tethered with. If it was rope, she could untie it. Tape: she could undo it. Zip ties: she could find something sharp. Unfortunately, they were handcuffs, and Dahlia, no doubt, had the key.

"We're okay."

When she pulled back, he examined her scrapes and bruises. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Daddy, I wanna go home."

"I know. I know, baby." Hearing her so scared made him want to cry. "Soon, okay?"

"Drake, what's going on?" Megan asked.

He brushed off the question because he didn't feel as though he could speak freely with his ex listening. "Have you eaten?" When she said she hadn't, he looked at Dahlia. "Clem, it's been two days," he pleaded.

"I'll get them some nosh," she caved, "but don't try anything. Drake, you know me well enough to know what my angry side looks like, don't you?"

"Yes. We're not gonna do anything. I just want them to be fed."

The young woman left the room, and they could hear her fiddling with a heavy-sounding lock on the other side of the door for a few moments before walking away.

"Drake, what's happening?" the girl asked. "Why's she doing this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "She said she just wanted to talk."

"Talk about what?"

"I guess us. Our relationship. I don't think she wants it to be over."

"And she thinks this will win you back?!"

"Daddy, I wanna hold yew." Megan let the girl go so that she could crawl onto her father's lap. Drake felt horrible that he couldn't return her hug because he knew she wanted it.

"So after you talk, then what?" asked Megan, but he didn't have an answer for her. "She's just gonna let us go?" That didn't make any sense to her.

Drake knew that she was scared, and that wasn't an emotion he often saw in his little sister. He could see that she was trying her hardest to hold her tears back, but she failed. "Hey, hey, come here," he said softly and she leaned against his chest, hiding her face in his shirt. "I'm so sorry this is happening," he said, trying his damnedest to be the strong one here, "but I swear I won't let anything happen to you. Do you hear me? I'll do whatever I have to to get you back home."

He kissed the top of her head. When Charlie saw the older girl weeping, she, too, started crying. Drake hated that his hands were bound. All he wanted to do was give them both a hug and maybe that would be enough for now. When he was scared or upset, Ricardo would hold him in his arms, and that always made Drake feel protected.

"It's okay, baby," he whispered softly. "It's okay."

They heard the lock rattling, and Megan's crying got harder because she just wanted to be alone with her brother and niece.

"It's okay," Drake said, and his sister could hear his voice crack. "Please just be strong for Charlie."

The door opened, and Clementine rolled her eyes at the sight. "You guys act like I'm some deranged serial killer. Give me a break."

"Clem, they're just scared and confused. We all are," he admitted. "I don't understand why you're doing this."

"I've already explained it. I know you're thick as, but I thought you'd be able to wrap your tiny brain around that one."

Since she was so close to him, Megan heard her older brother swallow the words he was too scared to say, and she thought that maybe this was how he had responded when they had been in a relationship, too.

Drake submissively took the insult and instead said, "You've got my attention now, so there's no need for them to be here."

"You must've misheard me," Dahlia said. She was growing irritated, and this was a terrifying thing. "I said we're meant to be a family."

Megan turned to her and exploded. "We'll never be your fucking family, you psycho!"

Smack!

The back of Dahlia's hand made contact with the girl's soft cheek. The slap came with so much force that it knocked the girl off the bed and onto the floor. Charlie screeched.

"Clem, stop!" Drake cried, tugging at the cuffs. "What the hell are you doing?! She's just a kid!"

"I don't appreciate the way she talks to me!"

"She didn't mean it! Okay?! She's just scared! Please!"

Dahlia reached for Charlie, who tried to scoot away, but she wasn't fast enough. The child screamed.

"Shh," Dahlia comforted. "It's alright, honey. It's alright."

Charlie squirmed in her grip. She turned and reached for her father as she squealed.

"Dahlia, give her to me," he demanded, breaking character. "Give her to me!" He had no idea what she would do. If she had no problem hitting Megan, would she do the same to the toddler?

"You." The woman looked at Megan. "Get up. I reckon the three of us need to have a discussion about manners."

For fear of what she would do to her niece, she obeyed, then headed towards the bathroom when told.

"Dahlia," Drake tried, his voice shaking with fear. "Dahlia!"

The kidnapper closed the door behind them, and they headed towards the connected bedroom.

"Dahlia, you fucking bitch!"

Once he was left alone, he broke. He despised feeling so helpless. He hated that he couldn't be there for Charlie and Megan. The look of fear in both their eyes had been devastating. Not knowing what would happen to them made him hyperventilate and led to a panic attack. He was desperate for a savior. He knew they needed one because he'd never been strong enough to handle Dahlia alone. He wished Ricardo was here. He'd have this shit handled in seconds. Julio, too, would prove to be a badass in this situation. Dee, Kenzly, his mom — they would all be able to save themselves. Why was he so weak when it came to his ex-fiancée? Even with lives on the line, why was he so useless?

---

Drake had cried himself to sleep, and he didn't wake up until Dahlia plopped down on the bed at his feet the next morning. His body jerked involuntarily with fear, and this caused a sharp pain to shoot through his ribcage. "Ah!" He clenched his teeth together and focused hard on his breathing. Every little movement of his stomach caused him to ache.

"You want me to give you something for that?"

Since he was laying on his side again, he had to look up at her. "Like what?"

She leaned forward, and the sudden movement caused him to flinch, which gave him another pain. Dahlia opened the nightstand, then retrieved an orange bottle. She held it up, gave it a shake. "They're your favorite."

He stared at the Xanax with a look of longing in his eyes. God, it'd feel so good to get fucked up right now. She popped the lid off, then poured one onto her palm and held it out. They were the bars. One would be alright, but maybe she'd give him a second. He would love to feel like he had no care in the world right now.

"I don't want it."

"Aw, Drakey." She smiled as if he'd said something adorable. "I think you do."

She was right, but he couldn't give in. He couldn't let her make him a mindless zombie.

"I said no." However, his voice faltered.

She paused, then shrugged her shoulders. "Okay." She put the pill away, then set the bottle on the nightstand out of sight. "You need a bathroom break?"

He did have to pee really badly. He was surprised he'd been able to hold off for so long. He nodded and felt as though he'd lost a bit of dignity when doing so.

"No funny business. You understand?"

"Yes," he said quietly in a defeated tone.

Clementine opened the nightstand again and pulled out another pair of handcuffs. She placed these around her ex's wrists, but didn't wrap them around the bed rail this time. That way, when she unlocked the old pair, he would be free to stand, but his hands would still be secured.

"Come on," she said, and he felt as though she was speaking to him like he was a dog.

She had to help him sit up because of his broken rib, then she led him to the bathroom. Once he was in front of the toilet, she unbuckled his belt, then undid his jeans. Afterwards, she pushed them down his legs and aimed for him. He stared blankly ahead, feeling violated as she did this. Sure, she had seen and touched it all before, but this time, her hands weren't welcome. If it hadn't been so long since he'd last relieved his bladder, he probably would've been too shy. However, his timidity played no factor now.

When he was done, she zipped him back up, then washed her hands. Perhaps this could've been a good time for him to make a move, but his humiliation left him feeling helpless. What could he possibly do with handcuffs on anyway? Instead of rebelling, he stood there and waited for her to finish like a good little boy. His eyes moved to the door that was opposite of where he had entered. This was probably where Megan and Charlie were kept. It was pretty quiet. He hoped they were okay.

"Don't even think about it," Dahlia said to him, eyeing him through the mirror. "They can't help you. Only I have the key."

"What did you do to them?"

"What do you mean 'what did I do to them?'" She turned and actually looked at him now.

Out of habit, he lowered his gaze — a sign of weakness. He thought about lifting his head back up and bravely facing here, but he knew she preferred him this way and, right now, Dahlia was calling the shots. She always was.

"Drake, I'm not a bloody monster." She sounded offended. "I did what I said. We had a little chat. That's it. What the hell have Ricardo and Julio been saying about me?"

"Nothing," he said. He didn't want to throw them under the bus and risk them getting hurt. "I'm just worried about them."

"Well, I've done nothing to them. Blimey, Drake. How could you think that of me?"

"Well, you did hit my sister."

"It was hardly a slap. She's fine. She forgave me. She said so."

Megan was smart enough to play along. He needed to do so, too.

He said, "I think maybe we should sit down and work some things out. I'm still a little confused, and I think I'm just misunderstanding you." Just like when they were together, he made things an 'I' problem instead of a 'you' problem, therefore accepting blame that didn't belong to him. "Everything's kinda cloudy."

"You might have a concussion," she said, suddenly soft and caring. "Come on. Let's go back in there, and I'll take a look."

Drake led the way when told, and he took his place on the bed without needing to be commanded. Because of this, she didn't bind him to the headboard again. He was already beginning to earn back her trust with his puppy dog act. Maybe it was so convincing because it wasn't fully an act.

Dahlia grabbed some supplies and started bandaging they boy's head wound while having him confirm or deny a list of symptoms, which she knew by heart since she was studying to be a doctor. She stuck with her original assumption that it was a concussion and even apologized for how rough she'd been with him. Drake didn't want the conversation to go stale while she was still dressing his wound because he wanted her to feel like things were getting back to normal, so he started the next conversation.

"How's school going?"

"It's fine. A lot of work."

"I can help you study if you want."

She smiled. "That's sweet. Maybe another time. I just want to focus on us for now," she said. A mischievous smirk slipped onto her face suddenly. "Remember that game we used to play when you helped me study? You'd ask me questions and, if I got them right, you'd give me a reward?"

He did remember. If she got an answer correct, he would turn the vibrator up or play with her nipples or something. There were punishments as well. If she was incorrect, he'd spank her or use electroshock clamps on different parts of her body. If she got so many right, she won, which meant that he would give her cunnilingus and then, in the later era of their relationship, proceed to let her peg him with a dildo. If she got so many wrong, however, he was the victor, and he would receive a blowjob or get to do anal while she wasn't allowed a sexual release. If, however, she begged, even though she'd made up the rules, he could never get himself to tell her no, but she would have to keep her hands behind her back and do it herself, usually with a pillow or dildo, while he watched.

He honestly kind of missed the sex with her. As long as she didn't cross the line with him, he was always into it. It's just that, towards the end there, she almost always crossed the line. That's what she did, and he knew that, if he had stayed, that would become his new normal. Just like the yelling. Just like the name-calling. Just like the constant break-ups and silent treatments and the times she'd punish him by withholding sex. Just like the hitting and slapping and clawing and shoving and kicking and punching.

"I miss that," she said.

"I miss it, too," he replied, and it was honest. Might as well start sucking up to her now. "You know, that day I left, I knew I had no right. I cheated on you just as much, if not more. Just because mine happened in a shorter timeframe, it doesn't make me better, and I realized that when it was too late. When I called you from the truck stop that day begging for you to take me back, I knew I had fucked up the only good thing that had ever happened to me."

"I should've said yes instead of being so petty." Dahlia was probably lying to play off of his emotions somehow, but he allowed it. "I was just so angry."

"And you had every right to be," said Drake. "I was a horrible boyfriend and an even worse fiancé. I'm sorry I let everything get to this point. I'm sorry I fucked everything up."

Now that she was finished cleaning him up, she set all the supplies to the side, then pushed him back a little so that he was leaning against the bars. She scooted close to him and rested her head on his chest as she sat next to him.

After what she had done to him when he was tied up or drugged, the idea of letting Dahlia invade his personal space like this was upsetting. Still, he pushed through those thoughts and played along by kissing her hair, then resting his head on top of hers.

"I always liked that," she said, "when you kissed my head like that. You always did it so randomly. Sometimes, we'd be snuggled up watching the telly, and I would feel you give me a little kiss on the top of my head. It always made me feel like you loved me — like I was thinking about the show, and you were just thinking about me."

"I was. You know I didn't like any of the shit shows you watched," he said with an airy chuckle, and she chuckled, too.

"But you still sat through them with me anyway." Dahlia said, "You wanna know something kind of embarrassing?"

"Um, of course." He laughed. He was pretty good at pretending with her because he'd had a lot of practice. He'd done this with Coach Tad. He'd done this with all those men at that truck stop. This is what he does best.

"Sometimes, I would hope that you were stalking my Facebook. I was always posting these songs for you. You know, because that's how to get through to you is with music. I thought that, even if you were ignoring my texts or whatever, maybe you were still checking out my page and seeing what music I was listening to."

"Name a song," he said.

"Well, the latest one was Want U Back by Cher Lloyd."

"Oh, yeah, I know that one." He recalled some of the lyrics in his head.

Remember all the things that you and I did first
And now you're doing them with her
Remember all the things that you and I did first
You got me got me like this

And now you're taking her to every restaurant
And everywhere we went, come on!
And now you're taking her to every restaurant
You got me got me like this

Boy you can say anything you wanna
I don't give a sh, no one else can have you
I want you back, I want you back
Want want you, want you back

I broke it off thinking you'd be crying
Now I feel like sh looking at you flying
I want you back, I want you back
Want want you, want you back

Please, this ain't even jealousy
She ain't got a thing on me
Tryna rock them ugly jeans-jeans-jeans
You clearly didn't think this through
If what I've been told is true
You'll be crawling back like boo-hoo-hoo

He laughed. "I feel like that fits perfectly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?" she asked sweetly, and Drake could picture her batting her eyelashes. "Did you have any songs that reminded you of me?"

"Of course. There were several."

"Really?" This seemed to please her. "Would you sing one? Oh, wait. Hold on." Suddenly, she got up, pulled the key out of her back pocket, and unlocked the door. "Be right back."

Once she was gone, he couldn't help but roll his eyes and shake the shoulder that she had been touching as if ridding it of dirt or something. He wished she would stay gone because he'd much rather be left alone, but he knew he needed to do this for Megan and Charlie's sake.

It took a couple minutes for Dahlia to return, but when she did, she held an acoustic guitar. "Check it out. It's my father's."

"You didn't tell me he played guitar."

"Well, you know what they say. Every girl grows up to marry her father."

Drake made a sound of disgust. "God, I hope not. The thought of Megan ending up with someone like our dad—" He abruptly stopped speaking because he didn't like to think about it.

"Forget your dad. You'll be like her new father figure now," Dahlia said with an encouraging smile, "and I'll be her mum."

When she spoke like this, it made Drake feel as though a heavy stone had fallen into the pit of his stomach. He was terrified of just how crazy she was. Even after everything she'd done before today, he never would've dreamed that her psycho, obsessive mind could conjure something like this up.

"You're still against me," she realized because he wasn't able to fake it this time.

"No," he quickly assured. "I'm not. I just — like, I don't know if you've seen some of the things I've done while we were separated, and I just don't think I'm really that capable of raising a kid like this. Especially not two. I've made a lot of mistakes already—"

"—and you learned from them," she said. "That's the part you should be focused on. I think you'll make a great father. We'll be brilliant parents."

He felt like he shouldn't argue any further because he had already gained so much traction, and it would be hard if he had to redo all that progress. He decided to get back to the music to avoid any argument. "So you wanted me to sing for you?"

"And play. I miss hearing you play for me."

He was shocked when she started fiddling with his handcuffs. He felt one wrist freed. She instead locked that cuff around the last bed rail. This way, he was still captured, but he would be able to strum as long as he played on one knee on the floor at the head of the bed. He got in place and rested the guitar on his thigh. He did a few practice strums to see if he had enough free range and to also check that the instrument was in tune. When he confirmed this, he looked up at her.

"You ready?"

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with the biggest smile already. She nodded.

"Please don't hate me if I fuck up. It's been a while." After that disclaimer, he started strumming the notes. His soft voice soon followed.

Don't you call him baby
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me

Clementine was grinning from ear to ear. It was true that this song had reminded him a lot of her, but he also chose to play this one to feed into her ego.

I, I confess
I can tell that you are at your best
I'm selfish so I'm hating it
I noticed that
There's a piece of you in how I dress
Take it as a compliment

Maybe this was a good time to try for an escape. One of his hands were freed, and he wasn't sure when he would get the chance to do this again. If he could just pin her down long enough to get the key and unlock himself, what could she do? He was physically stronger. He'd never really used his strength on her before, though, because, mentally, he was weaker. Even still, he was scared of her, but he would have to move past those thoughts. Once he was up, surely she'd leave him alone. She wasn't strong enough to stop him as long as he mustered his bravery and stood his ground. All he had to do was get to his sister and daughter, and then they would be out of there so fast.

Don't you call him baby
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me

I, I just miss
I just miss your accent and your friends
Did you know I still talk to them?
Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?

Maybe Drake was chickening out. He just felt like it was too soon to make a move when the outcome wasn't guaranteed. Dahlia packed a hard punch. What if he couldn't get the key from her. If he made an attempt and failed, that was it. Game over. Surely, she would never trust him again. At the rate he was going, though, if he held off for just a little while longer, maybe she'd trust him enough to remove the other cuff as well. At that point, an escape would be much easier and set in stone.

He just couldn't figure out if this was the best play or not. Was he actually being smart and strategic for once? Or was he just trying to convince himself of that when, really, he was too scared to go against her, even with his daughter and sister's lives on the line?

Don't you call him baby
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me
Don't you call him baby
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me

When he finished up the last few notes, he lifted his head and looked up at her. Every last bit of his bravery melted away. Why was he so fucking scared of her? It's actually embarrassing. He felt so weak around her. Maybe he'd never make a move and he'd be stuck with her forever, and Charlie would be forced to call her mom, and Megan would be forced to call him dad.

Dahlia suddenly leaned forwards and crashed her lips against his. It took everything inside him not to jerk away. He'd known kissing her wouldn't be the most pleasant thing after the awful memories she had left him with, but now that he was doing it, he found it to be way harder than he'd thought. Knowing those lips belonged to someone who had heard him say their safe word and decided to gag him so she could pretend she didn't made his stomach churn. Knowing they belonged to someone who had spent so much of her time scheming and stalking until finally drugging and raping him made his skin crawl.

Somehow, it didn't seem to hit him until this very moment that this was real. She was wanting a real relationship that he'd have to be in for the rest of his life. That meant a lot of kissing, which felt so disgusting to him now. How much worse would it be when she wanted to reintroduce sex into their relationship? He didn't think he would be able to go through with it. The idea of her touching him all over made him want to vomit. In addition, what had happened to him in the psych ward was her fault. He really did hate her.

Dahlia took the guitar from his hands and set it to the side, all without breaking their kiss. He felt her lift his free hand and rub it against her breast, silently telling him where she wanted to be touched. The further this went, the more uncomfortable he became, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to keep from puking on her. Drake felt her hand on his cheek, on his shoulder, in his hair, on his back, his arms, his chest. It was so overwhelming that silent tears were actually falling down his face. He wasn't sure he could go through with it if this progressed to sex.

His heart was pounding out of his chest. The amount of stress he was under was smothering. If he broke character, things could get really bad for his family, and they'd lose their attempt at an escape. However, if he went through with it...

The thought nauseated him. He couldn't. He couldn't fucking do this, which meant that now was the time, and he'd better not fuck it up.

The young man started to get onto his feet like he was going to climb on top of her. As she leaned back, he reached for the neck of the guitar and held it tightly in his grip. He gathered his last bit of courage and pulled back, abruptly ending the kiss. As quickly as he could, he swung the instrument right at the side of her head, knocking her out cold.

Drake hated violence, and he hated partaking in it, so he felt extremely guilty for what he had done. However, he could marinate in that shame later, like when he was back at home. He turned her onto her side and started digging through her back pockets. When he found the keys, he began trying each one in his lock. There were about twenty or so keys on the chain. This didn't look like Dahlia's old keychain, so he assumed that it was her father's. He was a rich doctor. Who knows how many cars, houses, safety deposit boxes or whatever he owned, each with its own little key? It was great for him, but unfortunate for Drake. He was now ten keys in and had used most of the small keys already.

"Shit!" he cursed nervously. He was still trembling after the kiss and the way she'd touched him, and that led him to drop the keychain. "Fuck!" He swiftly snatched it up, but he couldn't remember which keys he'd tried. He had to start again. "Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath.

Drake went through the entire keychain and none of them worked, so he went through them a second time thinking maybe he'd passed over one by mistake. Still nothing. He picked a few that looked small enough to fit and retried those once again, but none of them worked.

"Damn it!" He angrily tossed the keys down, then started going through Dahlia's pockets again. Unfortunately, they were empty. "Shit!"

He couldn't not escape. Not after he'd smashed a guitar against her face. If she wakes up and he's still here... He didn't even want to think about what she would do. Sure, she was nice and sweet just seconds ago, but this was the same girl who had manipulated and mentally tortured him just for kicks. She was the same girl who had shoved him onto the bed, climbed on top of him and started swinging relentlessly when he'd tried to end their relationship. He was fucking terrified of her. She'd never trust him again. He wouldn't get another chance to leave.

He searched the floor, bed and nightstand just in case, but the room was spotless. As he stood there panicking, he could just barely hear a groan over the sound of his own heart beating. It was Dahlia. She was waking up!

It wouldn't be pleasant, but he could probably accept whatever pain she was about to inflict on him. What he couldn't accept, however, was what she may do to Megan and Charlie as an attempt to get back at him. They were his weakness and she knew that. She'd have no problem using them against him. It was Dahlia, after all.

If he fucked this up, not only would he be stuck, but he would've ruined Charlie and Megan's chance at escape as well. He wanted nothing more than for them to be safe and away from his psycho ex, so he had to do whatever it took.

Something he had seen in movies was that it was possible to escape cuffs if you were willing to break some bones. He was desperate. This was his only option at this point. His eyes moved to his hand. Out of wishful thinking, he gave a pathetic attempt at removing the metal cuff, but it was useless, and he knew it. His thumb was in the way. It would be much more possible to free himself if that obstacle wasn't there.

"Oh, fuck," he quietly whined, his face contorting as fresh tears fell.

He knew what it was like to break a finger. His father had done it to him before, and it wasn't pretty. Perhaps that's what scared him the most. He knew the pain he was about to be in. He'd prefer it to be a surprise. It's hard to imagine what that pain is like until you feel it. Not knowing would've been like that saying, "ignorance is bliss".

Drake exhaled, then used his free hand to grip his thumb. "Okay." His calming voice was almost inaudible. "Okay. Okay. Just breathe." His teeth were clenched as he exhaled shakily, hyping himself up, then—

Crack!

His scream was so loud that Megan could hear it. It even woke her from her slumber. Luckily, Charlie was so exhausted that she stayed asleep.

"FUCK! FUCK!" Drake's hand tightened into a fist, and he punched the wall four times. "SHIT! FUCK!" His curses broke away into sobs, but the pain was far from over. Now he has to get the cuff off. He gripped the metal with his free hand and started sliding it over his fingers, growling as he did so. Clem had put it on him pretty tightly, so even with the broken thumb, he still had to squeeze.

Finally, when he was free, he let out more sorrowful sobs. The young man coddled his hand, holding it against his abdomen. He picked up the keys, then bolted over to the bathroom door. The excruciating pain was distracting, so he seemed to move slower at this than before, but thankfully, he found the right key on the fifth try. He sprinted across the bathroom and to the other door. By some miracle, the first key he used unlocked it. He quickly stepped inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.

"Get up," he commanded a confused Megan, then he went over to the door that led to the hallway.

The girl obeyed. "What happened?"

"We're leaving."

"I heard screaming."

"Get Charlie."

"What happened?" She lifted Charlie into her arms, and this woke the toddler. Frustrated, Megan said, "Would you please just answer me?!"

"I had to break my thumb. Dahlia's knocked out. Damn it!" he exclaimed when he was forced to move on to the next key.

"Are you okay?"

"Not really." He wasn't sure why he was being such an asshole. Maybe it was the stress or fear or pain. Maybe it's the guilt of knowing this was all his fault. Finally, he got the door open. He let the girls go first. "Come on!"

"Which way?" Megan asked fearfully when she was in the hallway.

"Do you remember anything?" He sure didn't. It had taken him two days just to wake up after being knocked out.

When she shook her head, he chose the direction away from the door to his room and they hurried that way, then turned a corner. It was a dead end other than another door. Drake tried the knob, but it was locked. However, this door had a keypad and no keyhole. It was best to give up and try the other way. There was a table against the wall with a plant and some pretty rock that looked like a paperweight. It was about the size of his fist. He picked it up in case he needed it — surely, they'd pass by a window if they didn't find the front door — then the escapees went back the way they had come. Once they turned the corner, however—

"Don't move."

The group froze when they saw Dahlia. Her head was bleeding a bit, and she was pointing a gun at them. Drake raised one arm slightly in surrender and used the other to push Megan and Charlie behind himself.

"Clem—" he started.

"Don't you 'Clem' me. I can't believe you were pretending the whole time."

"I wasn—"

"Shut up!" At her sudden outburst, Charlie started crying. Dahlia could see her ex clenching and unclenching the transparent blue decor piece, like he was getting ready to use it. "Drop the stone," she demanded. "The keys, too." When he hesitated, she yelled, "Do it!"

Drake didn't feel like he had enough time to wind his arm back and throw, so he had no other choice but to do as she said. He dropped them both — one from each hand — and Megan flinched at the sound the large rock made. When she commanded him to kick them over to her, he did.

"You bloody wanker. You think you're really clever, don't you?"

"No—"

"You thought you'd kiss my head and serenade me, and then you'd just blank like that? You were just bloody pretending?"

"I wasn't. I swear I wasn't. I love you," he vowed, his eye contact never faltering. He repeated himself, emphasizing each word. "I love you. Clem..."

He could see her features slowly begin to soften and she was becoming less tense. For a moment, it seemed as though she would put the gun down, but out of nowhere, she flipped emotions just as easy as a switch. Her brows were pointed and her eyes danced with fury. She gripped the weapon tighter. When she spoke, her voice was hard.

"Get on your knees."

"Clem—"

"I said get on your knees!" And then came the unmistakable sound of the gun cocking.

"Okay. Okay." Slowly, he complied, still holding his hands out at his side in surrender. He could hear his little sister weeping now, and her teeth were chattering from fear.

"All of you! Do it!" To give them more of an incentive, she waved the gun in their direction.

"Hey!" Drake cried, then he spoke in a calmer tone as an attempt to both talk her down and express his trust. "Hey, hey, at me. Point it at me. It's okay. It's okay." After deescalating that situation, now he had to figure out how to solve the rest. He was so scared despite how collected he seemed, and he was sure everyone knew because he couldn't get his fingers to stop fucking shaking. "Just tell me what you want."

There was a pause, then she gradually moved closer — step...step — until she was right in front of them. She pushed the barrel of the gun against her ex's head. "Beg," she demanded emotionally through clenched teeth.

Drake could hear his sister crying now, and he hated himself for being the reason she was here. He swallowed his pride, then spoke. "Clem, please don't do this. Please. I'm sorry I hit you. They're just scared. They just wanna be with my mom. Just let them go, and I'll stay. I wanna be with you. I love you. Please." He felt the cold metal leave his head, but rather than putting the gun away, Dahlia aimed it at the two younger girls. "No! Please!" Without hesitation, Drake grabbed the barrel and yanked it in his direction until it was touching his own skin again. She wanted to see him weak and desperate rather than trying to talk his way out of trouble, and he knew this. He had to do what she wanted, and she wanted him to beg. He whispered, "Please. Please. Please. Please. I'm begging you, Clem. Please don't. Please."

He continued repeating himself in a quiet voice. Not knowing if she was serious when she'd aimed the deadly weapon at his little sister and daughter terrified him. He felt like joining them in their crying, but he knew he needed to be strong. He didn't want to scare them more than they already were, and showing his own fear would do that. Still, his eyes watered over as he continued to beg for mercy, and his ex could see this. She wanted more, and he knew he had to give it to her.

"I fucked up," he said shakily, and his voice cracked slightly. "I know I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His bottom lip trembled, and his fingers were shaking like all hell. "Please don't. Please, Clem. Please. Please forgive me. Please have mercy on me. Please, I'm begging you."

"And why should I do that?"

Drake was quiet for a moment. He closed his eyes when he felt the cold metal brush through his hair. He could feel Megan pressed against his back as she curled into a ball, protecting Charlie. She was scared to death, and all of this was his fault. It was a good question. Why should she show him mercy when he ruins everything he comes into contact with?

"I don't know," he finally said, looking up at her again. "I don't deserve it. I know I'm a shitty person. I was a shitty fiancé. I'm a shitty brother." A tear left his eye now, then another. Again, his voice cracked. "I'm a shitty father. I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve to have a family. I've been given chance after chance, but I'm a worthless fuck-up. I never should've made it out of my dad's house alive, and I shouldn't now either, but I'm begging you for one more chance. I can be the person you want me to be. I'll do anything you want. Please, baby. Just put your faith in me one last time. Please."

He blinked his watery eyes rapidly as the tip of the gun brushed across his skin. His brows furrowed, and he was trying hard not to break, but he was terrified — not just for his own life. He was scared of what would happen to Megan and Charlie if she decided to pull the trigger. She'd have no use for them, and she sure as hell wouldn't let them go after they'd witnessed her commit murder. She would have no other choice but to kill them, too. Bloody images of the two girls flashed in his mind, and that was all it took for him to break.

Quiet sobs left his lips, and he hung his head with shame. The second the girls heard it, they both cried even harder, which made him do the same. He wished he could be stronger for them, but who was he fooling? He's always been weak.

"Please," he said, looking up at her again. He still held up his hands in surrender as he wept. "Please, just don't hurt them. Please. Do what you want to me, but please, I beg you, don't hurt them." Drake put his shaky hands together, interlocking his fingers. First, he lowered his head, then he lowered the upper part of his body until his elbows were on the floor and he was bowing at her feet. He felt undignified, but he was willing to do whatever it took to keep his family safe, and Dahlia was all about theatrics. "Please. Please. Please."

Suddenly, Dahlia spoke. "Sit up," she hissed, and the boy obeyed. "You're fucking pathetic." With this, she spat on him, and he didn't wipe it away. "Megan, I want you to go into mine and Drake's room and bring back a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand."

She hesitated, fearful of what would happen when she left her brother alone.

"It's okay," Drake assured. "Do it."

The girl stood, but was stopped.

"Leave her here."

Megan passed Charlie to the girl's father, then her arm was suddenly grabbed by Dahlia.

"No funny business. You understand me?"

After Megan agreed, she was let go. She went down the hall until she made it to the designated room, then disappeared inside. Clementine moved around to Drake's back so that she could watch for her, which Drake was thankful for because he didn't want his daughter to see him with a gun pointed at his brain. It was touching the back of his head now, though, to give him the message that their kidnapper was still in control of him. He used his shirt to wipe Dahlia's loogie off of his face, and he dried up his tears as well.

As they waited, Charlie bawled and Drake spoke soothingly to her. "Everything's gonna be okay, baby. It's okay."

"I'm scawed!" she sobbed.

The young man's heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. "You don't have to be scared. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"She's a bad guy."

"She's not gonna hurt you," the father promised. "Right, Clem? You're not gonna hurt anyone."

"Of course not, hun. I just want us to be friends."

"Shh." He pet her hair. "It's alright. It's alright."

"It shouldn't be taking this long, Megan," Dahlia called in a strict voice. The girl soon exited the room, so she stepped back and lowered the gun to make it easier on Charlie. "Put them on him," she ordered.

Megan looked at her brother, who gave her a slight nod of approval although he was too ashamed to meet her eyes. She got on her knees behind him and locked one of the cuffs around his pink wrists. As she did this, she got a good look at his broken thumb and she knew he had to be in a lot of pain.

"Hurry up." When she was done, she said, "Now you take Charlie back to your room."

"Daddy!" the toddler squealed when her aunt tried to pull her away.

"It's okay, baby. You go with Megan."

"I wanna hold you!"

"Go on. She'll play some games with you, and I'll come see you soon."

Reluctantly, she allowed the teen to pick her up. They headed towards the bedroom they were kept in and, before following them, Dahlia placed the bottom of her foot in between her ex's shoulder blades and pushed, forcing him to fall onto his stomach. He let out a yelp when his broken rib collided with the hard floor, and his breath got caught in his throat. The pain was so severe that he felt warm tears stinging at his eyes. He clenched his teeth and, in a short second, he'd exhale and inhale, then he'd hold his breath. The less his chest moved, the better.

"Daddy!"

"I'm okay, baby." He sniffled. "Just go play with Megan."

Once they were in the room, Dahlia locked the door behind them, trapping them once again. She then turned towards her ex-fiancé with anger, and Drake could do nothing but watch as she furiously approached. She was holding the gun again as she towered over him. He wasn't out of danger yet. He'd managed to save Megan and Charlie — at least for the time being — but he was still unsure of his own fate. Dahlia seemed to still be in the deciding process herself as she used her foot to flip him onto his back.

This hurt his arms because all of his weight was on them, but he didn't complain. Instead, he asked, "So what are you gonna do to me?"

"Get up," she growled as she grabbed his bicep and yanked. However, once he got to his feet, she shoved him right back down again.

"Ahh!" Since his hands were behind his back, he couldn't catch himself, and he hit the ground hard. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed in between his staccato breaths.

The pain was so great that he couldn't stop the swears from leaving his mouth. However, he couldn't call Clementine any names out of anger because he knew he had to continue playing into the idea that he wanted to be with her. Reeling her back in after an escape attempt was going to be hard enough without adding verbal insults into the mix. Unfortunately, she was starting to make it really hard for him when she kicked him. Once...twice...three times.

"Stop!" he cried, fresh tears falling as his broken rib throbbed. It was hard enough just to breathe. He hated that he couldn't shield himself in any way. All he could do was curl up into a ball.

Since he was so thin, she was able to grab his arm and drag him the rest of the way to the room. Instead of putting him back on the bed, though, she pulled him over to the radiator. Before unlocking one of his cuffs, she gave him a kick square in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. His eyes went wide, and the pain paralyzed him, which gave Dahlia just enough time to secure him to the radiator.

"You're not sleeping in the bed with me anymore. You can stay here like a fucking dog for all I care."

Drake was abused even more when she punched him. He lost his balance and started to fall back, then the cuffs caught him. He was hit again, and the force of it caused him to hit his head against the cold metal opposite the blow. He curled up for protection, hiding his head in his arms. Since he was cuffed to the top part of the radiator, it looked like he was lifting his arms, which he was trying to do so that she'd know he'd had enough. He also held out his hands in surrender. She could see his fingers trembling, and she knew that this meant he was slipping in and out of reality. Part of him was here with her. Another part was back at his father's. He was clearly disoriented and confused.

Deep inside of her mind, she was jealous of the sort of control that Martin had over his son, even when he was long gone. She craved that power, but she wanted hers in a different way. She actually wanted a loving relationship with the guy — one like they used to have, but where he was even more submissive than before. She wasn't sure what it was about having power over him that got her off, but it was like a drug. She needed more and more of it just to be satisfied.

Once again, just like out in the hallway, she heard him break. She hadn't even touched him anymore, but he started sobbing. The fear he must be feeling towards her was like a rush of heroin pumping through her veins. She felt invincible and a smile played on her lips until she heard her captive's pathetic voice.

"Get out of my head!"

This was a huge blow to her ego. This wasn't about her. It was about fucking Martin! Even six feet underground, he was able to show up and steal her thunder. She tightened her fist and clenched her teeth with rage, then let out a scream that sounded like a demonic growl. It only took two more punches to knock him out considering the other side of his head would get bashed against the radiator each time as well, sort of like a double whammy. Even still, she gave him another kick before she stormed out of the room.

---

He woke up sweating and in pain. Drake groaned as he opened his eyes and found that he had not, in fact, been dreaming. He was really fucking here, and his ex-fiancée was really fucking nuts. His hands were numb due to the blood rushing down his elevated arms and the tightness of the cuffs. His head was pounding, sending sharp pains shooting through his skull repeatedly. As he lay there trying to get his bearings, he started to realize that the skin on his right arm was stinging. Drake slowly tried to sit up, but the stabbing pain from his ribs forced him back down. He sucked in air like a vacuum, then held it.

"Fuck! Shit, shit, shit!" He knew he couldn't lay there forever, though. He had to get the girls, he needed to find a way out, and he had to see what was wrong with his fucking arm. Again, he went for it, pushing his way through the pain with a hiss. He choked out a sob, but managed to keep the crying from fully starting up. Once he was sitting up, he felt nauseous from the dizzying movement. He had a weak stomach, and he was too tired to fight against it, so he quickly turned his head to the side and let the vomit come up.

He was so scared despite how hard he tried to come off as the opposite for Charlie and Megan's sake, and all that fear wasn't sitting well in his stomach, so it forced its way to the surface. He couldn't turn or maneuver too much, so he threw up on himself a bit, although most landed next to him on the carpet.

When he finished barfing, he tried his best to wipe off his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Afterwards, he turned his attention to his arm. It quickly occurred to him that the radiator was now turned on and had been heating up while he'd been knocked out. It wasn't quite searing, but it was hot enough to cause discomfort. No wonder he was so sweaty.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the metal he was chained to had actually gotten pretty hot. "Clem!" he called. The young man tried sliding his wrist out of the handcuff, but they were too tight this time. Even the hand with the broken thumb was stuck. "Turn it off!" He heard no movement outside his door, but he knew she'd heard him. "Clem, turn it off! Shit! Oh, shit!"

He tried rearranging his position as best as he could, but it didn't matter. He couldn't get that arm off the metal and, even when he was able to lift it slightly, it would just force the other arm to move closer and fry. After a few more minutes of this, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Clem, please! Please, turn it off! Please! Please! Please! I'm begging you, please! Aaaahhhh! Fucking turn it off! Clem!"

In the next room, Charlie had cried herself to sleep after earlier. She was laying on her side, so Megan only had to use one hand to cover her ear to keep her from waking. This freed up one of her hands, and she was able to cover one of her own ears. Like Charlie, the other was against the pillow. These only muffled the loud noises coming through the wall. She could still hear her older brother screaming in agony. She had no idea what was happening to him — only that Drake was hurting, and she couldn't do anything about it.

"Clem, please!" He was sobbing now as the radiator cooked parts of his arms and hands. "Please! I'll do anything! I'll do anything! Ple-ee-ease! Oh, shit!" When Dahlia finally entered the room, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He couldn't read her facial expression through his tears, but if he could've, he would've seen her lack of sympathy. "Please, I can't take it anymore," he begged, his voice cracking like all hell after all that yelling. The heat was getting to him, and he was dripping with sweat.

"You expect me to care?" she asked.

"Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He watched anxiously as she moved closer, ready for her to let him go so that he could get some relief. However, instead of unlocking the handcuffs, she shoved his head downwards and pressed it against the scorching metal. It was a thin line from his right ear, over his jaw and down to his neck. He screeched and tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

"You think I give a damn about your bloody apologies?! You must've forgotten! I know how worthless they are!"

As she yelled at him, he bawled. "PLEASE! PLEASE! AAAAHHHH! AAAAHHHH!" He was still screaming and sobbing when she let him up.

"You think anyone's gonna love that ugly fucking face now?! Huh?!" Once again, she shoved his head down, burning the same spot.

Drake tried to reach for her, but it was impossible with his hands secured to the hot machine. He curled his fingers into fists so tight that his nails drew blood from his palms. The pain was unbearable. He would've considered chewing through his arms had he been able to come up with some coherent thought other than how much pain he was in. Pretty soon, the pain was too much for him, and he lost consciousness.

---

Drake woke up in a dark room, but he knew he was still in the same spot he had been in when he'd passed out. His hands were still chained to the radiator and, for a moment, he thought that it was still on and roasting him alive, but it was just the sharp stinging of his injuries he felt. It actually wasn't too bad where he had been burned most because the nerves there were dead. The surrounding areas, however, hurt like a bitch. Since there was a dim lamp on next to the bed, he could see a little bit. There were multiple wounds of different size and color. There were parts covered in blisters, and there were places that were a transparent yellow and black or red and pink. It was a sickening sight.

The overwhelmed, hurting young man couldn't be bothered to hold his tears back. The pain he was in was immense, and the stress he was under was suffocating. If Dahlia had no problem treating him like this, then how long would it be until she started doing the same things to Megan and Charlie? He felt completely helpless.

Usually, this is when Ricardo would jump in and save him. It's what he always did, and maybe Drake had gotten so used to it that he expected it. When will he come? All he wanted was for him to show up out of the blue and rescue him, then clean up his mess for him. Even Ricardo was no match for Dahlia, though. No one was. Drake's never gonna get away from her.

He laid there and wept for a while, then he flinched with fear when he heard a click and saw more light. Next came Clementine's voice.

"What is going on, Drake? I'm trying to sleep."

He hadn't even realized that she had been there, and now he was embarrassed. "My skin burns," he whined.

"Sounds like a personal problem."

"Can I lay with you and cuddle?"

Drake always used to get extra intimate towards her after times of physical or verbal abuse in the past. It was kind of like an apology, but also a cry for attention at the same time. It was his unhealthy way of getting comfort. Dahlia knew this. Therefore, his request was believable and not some ploy to escape. Honestly, Drake felt like it was pretty genuine, too. Despite being terrified of her, he was so desperate for comfort that he'd probably fall in love with her if she held him. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome. Maybe it was his father who had twisted the meaning of love for him. He wasn't even mad. He was just a scared little boy.

Dahlia replied, "Didn't I tell you before that you weren't sleeping up here?"

The emotional abuse hurt, but perhaps it would only make him feel even more attached to her later when she forgave him.

"Now stop your blubbering and go to sleep. I'm knackered."

Drake cried for a little while longer, but he did end up falling asleep.

---

Drake awoke suddenly when he felt liquid hit his face. He took a sharp breath in, then immediately erupted into a coughing fit. He was suddenly awake and alert. He recognized the scent in an instant. "Clem—" he started, but it was hard to speak through his coughing. Meanwhile, she continued splashing him with gasoline.

He turned and hid his head against the radiator so his arms would block his face and keep the toxic liquid from getting into his mouth or eyes. He screamed when the liquid was poured over his fresh wounds, but then continued coughing again. His coughing caused his broken rib to ache, which made it hard enough to breathe without the additional overpowering fumes.

When his entire body was soaked, Dahlia set down the gas can. She then went into her pocket and pulled out a box of matches.

Finally, Drake was able to speak, although he remained coughing. "What are you doing?!"

"You said her name!"

"What?" He was so confused.

"That blonde sket! You said her name in your sleep!"

If he was brave enough, he would've rolled his eyes. "Christ, Clem. I can't control what I say in my sleep. It doesn't mean anything."

"You're in love with her," Dahlia accused. "You don't wanna be with me."

"I'm not in love with her. It was just a dream."

"You lying arsehole! If I can't have you, no one can!" She struck the match, and a small flame engulfed the top.

"Don't! Don't!" He kicked his heels, pushing himself back as far as he could, which wasn't that far. "Clem, please. Please! Don't do this! Please!"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't burn this whole fucking place down, starting with you!"

"Because I love you!" he yelled, and he was sobbing again. He knew what it felt like to be burned, and he didn't want to feel that all over his body. "I fucking love you! I've spent months pretending I didn't, hoping that it would eventually stick, but I think about you everyday! I think about you all the time!"

"Rubbish."

"I'm telling the truth! You're the only one who can keep me tame. I'm a fucking mess without you. You keep me in line."

"So you just love me for what I do for you?" she said.

"No. I love you for who you are. I love you for the way you think. I love you for the way you used to wake me up with a smile and the way you'd chew on the inside of your lip when you studied for school and the way you'd laugh so hard that you'd start snorting. I love you, Clem. I do."

Her features softened as she listened to him flatter her.

"I know I blew it. I fucked everything up and, even now, I'm still fucking it up," his voice cracked. "I know I deserved everything you did to me. I deserved to be punched and kicked. I deserved to be burned. Hell, I probably deserve to be set on fire, but I'm asking you not to. I'm begging you. Please, just give me a chance to explain where my head was at when I tried to escape. Let's just talk about this. Please, babe."

She paused for a long time, and he just stared up at her and trembled.

"Please. I'm at your mercy. You're in control," he said, buttering her up. "I'll do anything. Please allow me the chance to explain myself, and if you still hate me afterwards, and you don't think it's gonna work, then go ahead and kill me. I won't fight you anymore." The fumes were strangling, and he coughed some more.

After what felt like an eternity, she grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it over, then sat down. "Fine. Let's hear it."

"Can you put out the match, please?" One accidental drop and he'd be toast.

"No," she answered phlegmatically.

"I wanna be honest with you, but I'm scared that you'll get angry with me and kill me before I get to finish."

"And rightly so. I definitely might."

Drake swallowed down his fear. "I'm gonna sit up, okay?" He waited until she said it was alright, then took a moment to catch his breath after all the pain.

"Get on with it, yeah?"

"I just..." The smell of gasoline was still so strong, and it burned his eyes. "They're so scared, Clem. They don't know you. They've never met you before, and their first impression of you was you causing a collision and kidnapping us. I know you didn't mean any harm. I know that," he quickly assured. "They don't, and I don't think it's right to force them to be here."

"I've been nothing but nice to them."

"I know you have. It's just that...when they see you hit me, that scares them. I know why you do it. I know I always deserve it. They don't see it like that, though. Megan doesn't understand our relationship. She…" Cough. "…hates violence and…" Cough. "…she's very…" He erupted into another fit of coughs as he inhaled the toxic odor. Even his throat burned now. He could tell that she was getting irritated with him, and this made him nervous. "She—" Still he couldn't speak, and it was getting hard to breathe. He felt faint, like maybe he would pass out. He started to reach for his throat and peel his soaked shirt collar away from his neck in hopes that it would help, but his cuffed hands wouldn't allow it. "Wait—" Cough. Cough. His face was beet red, and his eyes seemed to shrink inside of his skull. Snot dripped down his burning nostrils and found its way into his mouth. Involuntary tears stung his eyes. "Help—" Cough. "Water—" Cough. "Ple—" Cough. Cough.

However, his kidnapper made no moves to grant his request. He tightened his fists as his fit became more violent. He felt sharp pains shoot through his abdomen as his rib jerked around. Suddenly, thick, almost dry vomit spurted out of his lips and nose. It oozed down his chin and neck and slid down his shirt. This was followed by a bit more coughing, but finally, he was able to catch his breath.

"Shit," he said, grossed out that he was now covered in his own puke. "I'm sorry."

"I'm getting impatient," the young woman warned.

Drake had to recall where he'd left off. "I was just saying that Megan's sensitive about those things ever since my dad," he said, "and Charlie's just a toddler. She gets scared easily. She's never been in a situation like this before. She's just so confused."

"You're the one making me bring out my bad side."

"I know. I'll behave from now on. I swear. I just feel like..." He swallowed...hesitated...then whispered. "Let them go, Clem."

"We're meant to be a family."

He could tell her anger was rising again, and he couldn't keep his voice from shaking. "I know you want a family, but wouldn't you rather have a family of your own? Like, one that's really ours? They're not your kids, Clem, and Megan's not even mine. She'd never view me as a dad when she's way more mature than I am. I just feel like it'd be more real if we just had our own kids. Started fresh."

"If I let them go, your sister would tell everyone I kidnapped them."

His voice was raspy, and the taste on his tongue made him sick. "No, she won't. I'll talk to her. I'll explain your side to her. It's my fault we're here. It's my fault we're in this mess. If I wouldn't have ignored you, you never would've had to do this. I was scared and confused at first, but I get it now. This just shows me how much you love me and how important I am to you. No one else would do all this just to get me back. You risked everything for me, and I see that now. I think I just forgot and went a little crazy when I found out you were cheating on me. That's why Ricardo and Julio never let me reply to you. They knew I'd come to my senses after talking to you. They knew I'd realize I'd made the biggest mistake of my life by leaving you." He felt like he was playing her, but there was another part of him that felt like maybe his words were genuine. Perhaps that's what made him so believable.

"I never wanted things to get so out of hand."

"I know," Drake said softly, comfortingly. "It's okay. I get it now. If you let them go home to my mom, you and I can work on getting things back to normal. I know you don't trust me now, and that's okay, but when you do, we can go back, too. I'll take you to meet my mom."

"She'll loathe me."

"Even if you don't trust me to leave yet, you can let me call her everyday, and I'll assure her that I'm fine and I wanna be here with you. I'll explain everything to her. My mom's a very forgiving person. I mean, she let me come back after all the shit I put them through. You've hardly done anything to them. Plus, when we have our own kid together, she's gonna view you as part of the family," Drake convinced. "So sure, it's gonna be a rocky beginning, but she'll open up." He felt a weight lifted when he watched her blow out the flame.

"You better not be playing me, Drake."

"I'm not," he swore. "So you'll let them go?"

"I'll think about it."

This wasn't exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he was definitely making progress towards saving the two children. He'd even managed to save himself.

Dahlia moved closer and started fiddling with the handcuffs. After opening them, Drake let her lock them behind his back.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make such a mess."

She pulled him to his feet and led him into the next room. Once there, she helped him undress, use the bathroom, bathe, clean up his wounds and wrap his broken thumb. She even gave him a change of clothes and brushed his teeth for him. He didn't once fight or argue, and their conversations were pretty casual. She talked some more about school when he asked, and Drake told her about mending his relationships with Audrey and Josh, as well as his recent struggles with sobriety. It really did feel good to be able to talk to her again. This was something he definitely missed. However, he couldn't let himself get stuck in his feelings. His first priority was his daughter and sister's safety.

When he was all cleaned up, he requested a short visit to check in on the kids and to let them know he was alright. She granted his wish, but when they entered the room, the girls were sleeping. Still, she let him stay while she cleaned up the gasoline spill in the other bedroom. Before she went, she left one hand cuffed and placed the other cuff around the desk leg. It was close to his daughter's side of the bed, so he was able to get on his knees in front of her and gently run his fingers through her hair. She was a heavy sleeper, so this didn't disturb her, nor did it wake her when he kissed the top of her head.

However, Megan was not a heavy sleeper and, with his hand so close to her nose, the strong smell of gasoline woke her. Even after his bath, he couldn't fully get rid of the odor.

"Drake?!" she whispered.

"Are you okay?"

The girl got up and hurried over to his side of the bed, then she wrapped her arms around him. "Why do you smell like that?"

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

She pulled away and met his eyes warily. She knew what it meant that his entire body reeked of gasoline. Her voice was filled with worry. "Drake..."

"Everything's fine now," he whispered softly. As he brushed her hair behind her ears to get a full view of her face and check her well-being, her eyes were pulled towards his burned forearm.

"Oh my God!" She gripped his arm and examined it closer. "What the hell did she do?!"

"It's okay. It was my fault." Sure, there was a piece of him that felt like this, but for the most part, he was just scared that she was watching him. He'd noticed the camera when he'd entered the room. There was one in his room as well. If he was going to convince Dahlia to let the girls go, he couldn't drop character, not even for a second.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed the long, thin burn that stretched from his ear down to his neck. In addition to that, he had bruising on his face from the punches she'd served him with.

"What do you mean it was your fault?" she asked.

"I just shouldn't have went against her earlier."

Megan stared at him blankly. She wondered if this is how he used to act when he and Dahlia were together. She knew he talked about her manipulating him and him becoming submissive to her, but she hadn't expected it to be this bad. He didn't even seem like the same person.

"Drake, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Before he could respond, they heard a soft, "Daddy?"

"Hey, baby." When she scooted off the bed, he pulled her into a hug. "I missed you."

When they separated, she asked, "Can we go home now?"

He gave her a sympathetic frown. "Not yet. But soon," he promised yet again. "Did you and Megan play some games?"

"Yeah."

"You did? What'd you play?"

"We play...hmm..."

Megan spoke up for her. "We played Simon Says."

"Oh yeah! Simon says jump up and down!" She did this. Despite having just woken up, she was so hyper. "Tha's my fwavowite!"

"And we played I Spy and Mother May I."

"Daddy." His daughter tapped on his shoulder. "I wanna go home."

"I know you do, baby. We'll go soon. I promise. And guess what."

"What?"

"When we get home, you know what's gonna be under the tree?"

"Pwesents!"

"Yep. Santa's gonna leave you some really cool surprises."

"I love pwizes!"

"Me, too. I just need you to be good for Megan, okay?"

"Okay."

"You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you."

"I'ma big giwl!"

"You are."

"Hey, Daddy. Pway Simon Says. You be Simon Says."

"Okay. Simon says spin around." When she did, he said, "Simon says jump up and down." Next was, "Touch your toes. Simon didn't say touch you're toes!"

Charlie giggled. She was so tickled, and she loved it every time she did something she wasn't supposed to do.

"You're silly."

"Again!"

"Again? Okay. Hmm..."

---

"What's wrong?" Dahlia asked when she heard a sniffle. She turned over in the bed to face her boyfriend although it was dark and she couldn't see him well. "Can't sleep?" Since they'd laid down, all she'd heard was the clanging of the cuffs against the bed rails every few minutes as he tried to get comfortable.

"My arms fucking burn," he said, and he couldn't help the frustration that was coming out in his voice.

She rubbed his chest lovingly. "Why don't you let me give you something, babe?"

Drake hesitated. He really didn't want to get hooked again, and now wasn't the time to be phasing in and out of la-la land. He blinked back his tears and debated how much longer he would be able to hold out.

Maybe just this once, you know? The pain was just so agonizing, and the Xanax wouldn't do much for it, but it would get him to sleep. He wouldn't be in pain anymore if he could just fall asleep.

When the young man nodded, she said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He felt so disappointed in himself. As he waited for her to get up and go to the other side of the bed for the medication, he thought about what Ricardo would say if he was here. Explaining this to him, Julio and his mom later would make Drake feel ashamed, but it was possible that he'd never even see them again, so he might as well go for it.

Having to lay there in pain while she went to get him a glass of water was torture. He felt like she was taking so fucking long! Being left with such anticipation made him throw his guilt out the window when she returned.

"Could I have two, please?"

She got him another, then put them in his mouth. She held his head up for him and tilted the glass over his lips so that he could drink. "Better?"

He nodded.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you," he said vulnerably. He kissed her back when she leaned over him and connected their lips.

---

When Drake awoke the next day, it was because of Dahlia petting his hair. "Good morning, sleepyhead. You slept late." She took him to the bathroom for the general morning routine, then cuffed him to the bed again, with both hands behind his back. "I brought some nosh."

The young woman moved over to the dresser, picked up a tray and set it on his lap. On it was a plate of sausage links, eggs and toast, a glass of juice, silverware, a napkin, a flower and a white, rectangular pill. She started with the pill; he accepted it and swallowed it down. Afterwards, she gave him a kiss.

"Thank you, babe," he said with a forced smile. On the inside, he felt fucking sick to his stomach.

Over the next several minutes, she fed him as if he were a baby in a highchair. He felt so degraded, but he had to pretend he was okay with this. He had to make it look like he understood her anger and was willing to take the time to earn back her trust.

"How is it?"

"It's good." He was starving. This was his first bite to eat since his arrival.

"Well, I did my best. You used to always do the cooking. You were really good at that."

"When you trust me enough to take off the handcuffs, I can make you something special."

"Ooh, really?"

"Dee showed me how to make these vegan loaded waffle fries, and they are so fucking good."

"Really? You're turning vegan now?"

"No. Dee usually cooks for us once a week, and he's always making a bunch of different foods."

"I can't wait for us to all sit around the table — me, you and little Desmond — eating a nice, home-cooked meal."

"Desmond?"

"Uh-huh." She grinned with excitement.

"I don't get a say at all?" he joked.

"You don't like it?"

"Of course. I love it."

"Liar," she accused. "Okay, what about Kingston?"

"Better," he said, his voice a bit higher pitched than normal. He wore a teasing expression on his face, and she knew he didn't like it.

Dahlia gave him a playful slap, and he laughed. "What's wrong with those names?" She was giggling as well.

"Nothing!" He was flirting with her. He thought that doing this should help the process move along faster.

She gave him another joking punch. "Stop laughing!" This went on for a little while, but by the time things settled down, she was snuggled up against him. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too." He gave the top of her head a long kiss and, when he pulled away, she turned her head towards him for more. It was more than just a peck on the lips, but this time, he was able to keep himself from crying.

After a minute or so, the mood changed to a more animalistic nature. She got on his lap, straddling him. Her hand cupped his face as they made out. She introduced tongue, and he accepted.

He could tell where this was heading, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to turn things around. He could inform her of his new sexually transmitted disease, but if he made himself unfuckable in her eyes, then they'd never have the baby he promised her, and if there was no possibility of them having a child together, then Megan and Charlie wouldn't be allowed to leave.

He felt horrible about not telling her, but he thought that maybe this was some kind of test. Maybe she was trying to see if his vows had been genuine before she let the kids go. Maybe he just had to go through with this one thing. Afterwards, Megan will send rescue, and he'll never have to do it again. He just had to endure this one last time.

"Hold on." Dahlia stood suddenly with a mischievous grin. "I'll be back."

Drake was left alone, and he felt his eyes water over. He really didn't want to go through with this. The idea of her touching his body made him sick to his stomach. After what she had done to him, he wasn't sure if he would be able to tolerate it.

Lucky for him, he might not have to. Moments after the kidnapper left, the bathroom door opened.

"Megan?" She was alone, and this frightened him. "Where's Charlie?"

"She's napping."

"How did you get in here?"

The girl held up a bobby pin. "I snagged this when she had me get those handcuffs out of here yesterday. We're gonna get out of here."

Several scenarios passed through Drake's mind. He thought about the gun, and he thought about the excruciating punishment he'd suffered after their last escape attempt. During those times, Dahlia was knocked out, but this time, she was here somewhere. He didn't know how big or small this place was, but he didn't imagine there were many places to hide with it just being a guest house. It was highly likely that they would be caught.

If this new escape attempt failed, he was sure he wouldn't be able to get Dahlia back on his side. He pondered if it was a better option to just continue playing her game in hopes that she'd let his family go, but no matter what he decided, it was going to be risky. Megan seemed anxious to leave as soon as possible. They might as well go for it while they had the opportunity.

"Get me out." He scooted up a bit so that she could get at the handcuffs. "Ah!"

"Sorry! I forgot about your thumb!" Ten seconds passed...twenty...thirty... "I can't get it!" she said with frustration.

"Keep trying."

She did, but it wasn't much longer before a piece of the bobby pin broke off into the lock, jamming it. "Shit! It broke!"

"Fuck," he whispered, and she could tell he was extremely upset about something, like he knew something she didn't. "Look, just — just go get Charlie, and you two get out of here, okay?"

"I'm not leaving you." She was starting to weep now.

"It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay. Just get help. I'll be okay."

"I can't get our bedroom door open without the bobby pin."

Drake's eyes moved across the room in a quick glance. "Go look over there."

He nodded his head towards the dresser. However, before she could head that way, they heard the lock on the other side of the door. The siblings met each others' wide eyes.

"Quick!" he started quietly. "Hide under the bed!"

She did.

"No matter what you hear, don't make any noise. I'll get you the key."

From under the bed, Megan could see when the door opened.

"I'm back!" their kidnapper said in a bubbly voice. "Did you miss me?"

She heard her brother say he did as Dahlia shut and locked the door. The young woman was carrying something in her hand because Megan could hear a quiet rattle, then she saw a small stream of brown liquid land on the carpet.

"Oops."

Megan could smell coffee now. Maybe it was iced coffee. Maybe that's what the rattling was. Dahlia set it down on the nightstand, then got back on the bed.

"So where were we?" It was obvious that she was smiling by the sound of her voice.

The next thing the hiding girl heard was the unmistakable sound of kissing. This went on for several minutes, and all she could do was lay still underneath the bed until it was over. However, things only got much worse when she heard someone fiddling with a belt buckle. Now she understood what it was that Drake had seemed to know earlier: he'd known this was about to happen. She replayed that moment in her head and focused on the things she hadn't had time to earlier since her mind had been on escaping. She recalled the water that had already been in his eyes and the way his hands shook. Even though he tried to hide it, she could remember the fear in his voice when she couldn't get him free.

There was a sudden noise mere inches away from her head, and Megan flinched with fear, then she turned and realized that it was Drake's pants and boxers. His ex's shirt followed.

Next, Megan heard the coffee being sipped, and soon after that: "Ah! Clem...mmm..." When she heard the pain in her brother's voice, she knew what was being done to him. Dahlia was stimulating him with the hot liquid in her mouth.

As she continued, Drake closed his eyes, trying hard to pretend he was somewhere else like he used to when his father would violate him. However, he couldn't do that now. This time, he had to stay alert and aware so he could get the key to his sister. He'd already spotted the key. It was hooked to one of her bra straps. All he'd have to do was get her to take her bra off without being so obvious about it.

He couldn't help but cry out when he felt Dahlia's teeth scrape across the scalding skin. He had so many emotions running through him. He hated the fact that she was touching him like this after the many times she had raped him. He used to always blame himself for the times she'd done it while they were together because he never spoke up other than that one time, but she knew he didn't like it because he did use their safe word once, and she made sure to gag him every time after that. She knew what she was doing and how he felt about it, and she chose to do it anyway.

The next emotion he was feeling was humility. Knowing his sister was hiding underneath the bed he was getting his dick sucked on made him want to crawl under a rock and die. He was trying his damnedest to stay quiet, but sometimes he couldn't help the noises that left his throat.

Another thing he couldn't control was the beginning of his falling tears. Everything was getting to him. The fear, the humiliation, the pain — it was all overwhelming him. He just wanted to stop her, but he knew he couldn't. It was his fault that Megan and Charlie were here, so it was his responsibility to make sure they escaped. Unfortunately, sex was the only thing he was ever really good at. It was all he knew how to do.

When Megan heard a sniffle, she felt her own eyes water over. She just wanted all this to stop. She wanted to get up and strangle Dahlia, but she knew that, if she wanted a chance at escaping, she had to stay put. She didn't think she could handle another night of hearing her older brother's desperate screams as Dahlia tortured him. The second she got hold of this key, she was fucking out of here. She was going to grab Charlie and run until she could find help. They'd come back for Drake so fast that their kidnapper probably wouldn't even notice them missing. Just to be sure, her brother would probably prolong the sex for as long as he could. It all just depended on how long he could hold out.

"Why are you crying?" came Dahlia's annoying voice. She was so fucking fake. She was trying to act innocent when, in actuality, she was a fucking monster. "Did I get it a little too hot?"

Megan heard more rattling and realized the suspected ice had been in a separate cup.

"Hold on. Let me fix that." She then went at it with the frozen ice cube.

This wasn't his first time doing foreplay like this. Actually, Molly, the married woman he used to sleep with, had taught him this, and he later passed this technique on to Dahlia. He liked pain during sex, so that actually wasn't the issue. He was hard, after all. However, he couldn't let his fake girlfriend think he was crying for any of the other reasons, so he had to go with this.

When the ice cube touched his sensitive skin, he was having a hard time holding the sounds of pleasure and pain in. It wasn't long before Drake had to intervene.

"Stop. Stop. I'm gonna cum." He tried to say those words as quietly as possible without drawing suspicion. He didn't want his sister to hear, but he knew he couldn't finish before Megan got that key.

When Dahlia started fiddling with his cuffs, he let her. He didn't resist when she had him take off his shirt and lay down. She locked his hands back in place around the bars so that they were no longer behind his back.

Megan wasn't quite sure what Drake's plan was because she was pretty sure they were about to fuck, and she still had no key. However, when more clothes fell — Dahlia's jeans and panties, it became clear to her. She was supposed to find the key in her clothes. Before she could search for anything, however, she saw Dahlia's arm reach for the nightstand. The young woman opened it, pulled something out, then accidentally dropped it.

"Bugger."

Before Dahlia picked it up, Megan caught a glimpse of the object: a strap-on.

Drake spoke up meekly. "I don't really wanna do it that way."

"Oh, come on. This was always your favorite."

That wasn't completely true. He did love it because it had a dildo for him and a plug for her, and both vibrated. It was a good size and not painful like the one she used to peg him with towards the end of their relationship. Plus, he wasn't against anal sex. It actually felt pretty fucking good, but that's if you're relaxed, and he was anything but relaxed right now.

"I thought we were trying to make a baby," he said.

"We are. Just don't finish. We'll do that next. I just wanna get you going, like old times."

He didn't feel like he could argue more without pissing her off, so he kept silent as she lubed it up. When she was ready, she gripped his legs and pushed them up until he was in an anvil position. This surprised him because he had never done anal this way with her before. He did this position with Coach Tad, and he didn't like being in such a vulnerable position. His feet were in the air, his legs were spread, his ass was raised up a bit, and Dahlia was right in front of him, ready to make eye contact with him the whole time.

"Take off your bra," he said.

She reached around and unhooked it, then tossed it onto the pile. When she got into position, her breasts hung near his face.

Megan had been too afraid to move for fear that Dahlia would need to suddenly reach for something and spy her hands rummaging through her clothes, but when she saw the bra fall, she spotted the key immediately. Drake really came through for her. Still, she was nervous about going for it, but then she heard the creaking of the bed as it began moving back and forth.

Her heart broke for her brother. She knew how badly he didn't want to do this, but he endured it for her and for Charlie. This felt like her father all over again, only this time, she was there to witness it. Tears poured from her eyes, and she had to hold her hand over her mouth to keep from choking out sobs.

A couple minutes passed before he spoke. "Clem, I can't. My fucking ribs."

She helped him reposition so that he was on his knees, which was a bit more comfortable and he didn't have to face her. He rested on his forearms since his hands were cuffed. Once they were set, she went in again.

Megan figured the kidnapper was pretty occupied now, so she went for the key. Drake wasn't even sure if she was still there. Part of him hoped she wasn't, but he knew this would've all been for nothing if that were the case. If she was still here, though, he wasn't sure how he could ever face her again after this.

They didn't stay in this position for long because both were close to orgasming. Clementine removed the lubricated strap on and dropped it in the floor. She then turned Drake back over and helped him sit up. She didn't bother rearranging the cuffs, so his elbows were bent on either side of his face, and his hands were locked behind his head. She got on his lap and kissed him hard. She bit his lip until it bled.

"I love you," she said with urgency in between kisses as her lips moved across his cheek and down his jaw.

"I love you," he repeated. He kissed her collar bone and used this as an opportunity to look over her shoulder and check for any sign that his sister had gone. He saw none, but he wasn't sure what he expected anyway.

"Beg for it."

And he did. Once she was satisfied, she penetrated herself with him. She started moaning at once. Drake, too, was feeling pretty euphoric, so every now and then, a sound of pleasure left him. He tried to keep them in, but this was his first fuck since he took himself off his medication, and he could finally feel something down there.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, suppressing a moan. "Fuck."

Underneath them, Megan was frozen in place. She wanted to run, but she was scared of getting caught after everything they had gone through to get this key.

"Talk dirty to me," came Dahlia's voice, and Drake's soon followed.

It was obvious that her brother was trying to be quiet, but his psycho ex was anything but. As she bounced on top of him, she moaned so loud she was practically screaming. Megan knew she needed to get out fast. If she woke Charlie and Dahlia caught the toddler in there alone, this would be over.

"Look at me," Clementine commanded. "I wanna see your face when you cum."

By the sound of his voice, Drake was clearly exhausted. "Go. Go. Go. Faster! Go! Faster!"

It took a moment for Megan to realize that he was talking to her. This was her signal. He knew Dahlia wouldn't see her because she was busy staring into his eyes. This was her out.

Drake saw movement out the corner of his vision and knew it was his sister. Now knowing for a fact that she had heard all that was embarrassing, but he brushed that thought to the side because she still wasn't in the clear yet. To cover the sounds of her opening and closing the bathroom door, he got more vocal. He was so grateful that she never turned back.

Neither of the siblings had expected the escape to take so long. They'd hoped that Megan would snag the key and go, and Drake would hold Dahlia's attention for as long as he could. However, he couldn't put it off any longer. His semen rushed out, and he moaned a swear. Dahlia pet his hair as he panted. He was dripping with sweat.

"Oh my god, I've missed you," the girl said.

Drake hadn't caught his breath enough to reply.

When Dahlia got up, she reached for her underwear and slipped them back on. "You wanna shower together?" She could always secure him to the handicap rail to make sure he didn't try to leave.

Drake nodded.

"I'm gonna grab a change of clothes." She slipped her jeans up her long, tan legs, stood, then pulled them the rest of the way up. After buttoning those, she grabbed her bra and shirt. Drake watched nervously as she put them on, but Dahlia didn't say anything about the missing keys. She leaned over the bed and gave him a long kiss, then said, "Be right back, babe." It wasn't until she left and tried to lock the door behind her that she realized.

When she entered the room, Drake was immediately scared. She was absolutely furious. Dahlia slammed the door behind her. She tried the knob on the bathroom door and glared at the boy when she discovered that it was unlocked.

"Clem...wait..."

She crossed the bathroom and opened the adjacent door, but found it to be empty. She went out that door and scanned the hallway, but it was empty as well. "Megan! Charlie! Get your arses back here!"

Drake silently prayed that he'd given the girls long enough to escape. He hated that he couldn't do anything but sit here. If Dahlia found them and pulled out the gun, no one would be there to stand in between them and the bullets this time.

Drake waited an agonizing two minutes, listening for gunshots or screams or anything that let him know the girls had been captured again. After those long two minutes, he heard a door slam, then Dahlia stomping towards his room. He flinched with each one.

The second she entered, she went for the closet and pulled out a suitcase. Within sixty seconds, half of her clothes were packed up. She got some things from the bathroom and slipped on her shoes, then pulled out the gun and marched towards Drake again.

"Clem, wait—"

She put the keys into his hand. "Uncuff yourself. Hurry up!"

He was so frightened that he almost dropped the keychain. "Which one is it?" He cowered a bit when she angrily came closer. She snatched the keys, then put one in the lock. Now that he knew which one it was, all he had to do was turn it. Once he was free, he looked at her, awaiting his next command.

"Put the cuffs back on."

Drake obeyed.

"I can't believe you were playing me this entire time!"

"I wasn—"

"Save it!" She grabbed his bicep and dragged him off the bed, then led him down the hall and to the door with the keypad. After typing in a code, Dahlia pointed the gun at him again. "Go."

He found himself in a garage that was connected to the main house. Clementine was smart. She knew that the cops would be here any second now that Megan and Charlie were free.

"Let's just talk about this. You said you were gonna let them go anyway, so what's the big deal?"

"I said I'd think about letting them go," she said, "and I decided against it."

"Where are you taking me?" he asked. He kind of already had a hunch. She didn't let him get his clothes on, and she didn't throw any outfits for him in her suitcase, which meant that he wasn't going where she was going.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now stop stalling! You think I'm fucking dim?!"

"You're gonna kill me?" he asked with betrayal in his voice. "Clem?"

She tossed the keys at him again. "Open the trunk. It's the big silver one. Hurry up!"

Drake did as he was told.

Dahlia snatched the keys back. "Now get in." She waited. "Do it!"

He sniffled when he heard the gun cock. He stared at the empty trunk and thought back to the time when Marcellas' crew had locked him inside of one of their trunks with a dead body. It should've been him that night. He never should've survived that. Funny how fate was coming to collect in such a similar scenario.

The young man's head was forcefully tilted to the side when Dahlia shoved the barrel against his temple. "Get. In," she ordered. "NOW!"

He flinched at the monstrous voice. Drake felt pretty hopeless now. He didn't see a way out when it felt like the entire universe wanted him dead. There was nothing he could do. He didn't really have much fight left in him anyway.

"Clem—" He suddenly felt a sharp jab in his neck. For a moment, he thought she had stabbed him, but when she pulled her hand back, he saw a syringe. The weakness hit him so suddenly. He started stumbling just to attempt to keep himself on his feet. He fell against the taillight, then tried to hold himself up on the edge of the trunk, but his strength was gone. "Clem—" He hit the ground hard then. "Help," he tried, but he couldn't yell like he'd hoped. He gave a few pitiful attempts at trying to crawl away, but he didn't make any progress before he went completely still.

"You should've bloody listened to me." Dahlia used her foot to knock him onto his back. She saw nothing but pure fear in his eyes. When he tried to speak, only an unintelligible whine came out. She put the needle and tiny medicine jar back into the small zipper on the front of her suitcase, then she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a sitting position. Dahlia got behind him and lifted him up from underneath his armpits, then she pushed him at the trunk until he was bending over it. Next, she grabbed his feet and lifted them to the side, stuffing him into the small space.

Drake could do nothing but gaze up at her with terror-stricken eyes. Clementine reached for the trunk hood and closed it, leaving him in darkness.

---

Author's Note: If you wanna see more from me, please check out Scream: A Drake & Josh Story. It was a ton of fun to write and follow along to see who people predicted the killer would be. Also, you don't have to know anything about Scream to understand what's going on. Although the Charlie series will always be my favorite due to my connection with the characters and the special place it holds in my heart, my writing is much better in the Scream story, and there are several teeny tiny details, as well as easter eggs to find throughout the story. It has been completed, so don't worry. You won't have to wait years for an update this time. Please just check it out and let me know what you think! CCC ya!

Here's a snippet from Scream: A Drake & Josh Story.

Drake still felt weak after being strangled, so he was practically having to drag himself across the floor while resting his hurt knee
on top of the other. The closest place he could go to was the bathroom, so that's where he went, returning to the spot where this
encounter had first begun. Once inside, he started to close the door, but a black-sleeved arm appeared, the gloved hand wielding a
knife. It stabbed around aimlessly. Drake screamed, but no sound came out. He sat up and kept his back against the door, trying to
keep the killer out. The young man placed the flattened foot on his good leg against the bottom of the sink counter across from him
and pushed with all of his might. His body jerked forwards when his attacker rammed the door, then he planted his foot even firmer
and pushed back. He added the other, hoping to bear through the pain so that he could put an end to this once and for all, but the
moment pressure was applied, his whole body seemed to crumple. He leaned forward and cradled his knee, pressing his forehead
against his thigh as he gritted his teeth. His back jerked as he silently sobbed.

Again, the door was rammed, and with his guard down, it opened dangerously far before he shoved himself backward so hard he hit
his head. He pressed the bottoms of his palms into the tile to aid in scooting himself back. He searched the bathroom in a panic,
hoping to find something he could use to keep the door from opening. On the floor in front of the bathtub, he saw his cell phone. He
must've dropped it earlier, but he couldn't get to it now.

The next ram came with so much force that it pushed Drake forward. He hardly had time to fix his position before the door jolted
violently again, hitting the back of his head. The killer quickly charged the door again, giving Drake no time to better his stance. He
couldn't hold him back much longer. He knew that psycho would burst through any second and finish what he had started. By
running, Drake had only prolonged his torture, and probably even pissed the murderer off. Maybe to punish him, he'll really carve
out his eyes this time and leave him looking like that guy from Jeepers Creepers.

Drake's good leg was getting exhausted, but he kept it pressed against the sink counter and leaned back against the door with
closed eyes, clenched teeth and shaking hands. "Please!" he tried again, but still, he made no sound.

However, as if he had heard him and had suddenly found a soft spot for him, the killer's arm slipped out, taking the knife with it, and
the door closed.

Drake no longer heard anything on the other side of the door, but he wasn't about to check. He reached up to lock it but found that
it was broken. With no other options, he laid on his right side and reached for his phone. Once it was in his hand, he sat up and braced himself, then quickly dialed 9-1-1. It wasn't long before he received an answer, but when asked for his location, he couldn't speak.

"Hello? Are you there?"

His throat hurt, but he tried his best to get something out. However, because he had been strangled so aggressively, no sound left him.

"Hello? Is this an emergency?"

Drake was frustrated that he wasn't able to contact rescue, so he banged his fist against the wall to make a noise, hoping that she
would somehow realize that he was there and just couldn't talk.

"Are you there? Hello?"

Just then, he felt the bathroom door push against his back. His eyes went wide, and he dropped his phone. Again, he planted his
foot more firmly and pushed against the counter. He was so fatigued and worn out that he couldn't hold it back this time. He
screamed with fear, but all that came out was a quiet squeak.