Take My Hand And Don't Look Back
Childhood
Frank's POV
The soaking wash cloth is lifted from my face, and I gasp for the air that had escaped my lungs, coughing and spitting out salty water as my eyesight blurs.
"Just like how it'd be at the beach, if you were to get tackled by a wave, right Frank?"
He talks to me in a manner now that sounds undeniably psychotic. He's been doing things to me that could relate to my childhood, like slashing my knees with sandpaper to simulate falling off my bike, or waterboarding me to give me an experience of drowning at the beach. I'm not sure how long I've been held captive by him, but I'm almost certain it's been over a week.
He's been feeding me too, which I found odd at first, then realized it's just so that he can torture me more. If he starved me, I'd most likely be unconscious most of the time, and that makes his enjoyment diminish. I can't handle the pain and suffering for much longer, I know I can't. I need to do something.
"How long." He looks up from the table of devices, and tilts his head questioning my inquiry.
"How long, since you've kidnapped me. How long have I been in this godforsaken place." His face changes into a twisted amused look, and faces me while leaning on the table.
"Nine days and counting, kid."
Nine. Days. I've been tortured, beaten, and confiscated for nine days. I haven't seen natural daylight, grass, houses... Gerard. For nine days.
Gerard... I haven't seen his gorgeous hazel eyes, his 'gorgeously conditioned' black hair, as he called it; by now, who even knows if it's still black! That little bitch brings up a new color to dye it each week!
"What are you smiling at? Or are you finally going insane?"
I'm smiling? Dammit, Gerard, even thinking of you makes me want to melt. Wait- what's that?
My mindless gazing put a small painted window into my eyesight. The color blends into the wall, and if I wasn't paying attention (like I haven't been), I would've passed right by it. It's right above the table, too, so if or when the time comes, I could step on the table and easily climb out. I feel a bigger smile creep on, but try to hide it.
"Nothing."
"Sure."
He walks over, a hammer in hand.
"Now, let's build a treehouse, but minus the building, and a lot more smashing your fingers with a hammer."
His hand quickly pins my left hand down, making it impossible for me to move it. The hand containing the hammer rises up above his head, and falls, colliding with my index finger. I let out a high pitched scream, and look to see my finger bloody and already swollen.
"One down, four to go."
The soaking wash cloth is lifted from my face, and I gasp for the air that had escaped my lungs, coughing and spitting out salty water as my eyesight blurs.
"Just like how it'd be at the beach, if you were to get tackled by a wave, right Frank?"
He talks to me in a manner now that sounds undeniably psychotic. He's been doing things to me that could relate to my childhood, like slashing my knees with sandpaper to simulate falling off my bike, or waterboarding me to give me an experience of drowning at the beach. I'm not sure how long I've been held captive by him, but I'm almost certain it's been over a week.
He's been feeding me too, which I found odd at first, then realized it's just so that he can torture me more. If he starved me, I'd most likely be unconscious most of the time, and that makes his enjoyment diminish. I can't handle the pain and suffering for much longer, I know I can't. I need to do something.
"How long." He looks up from the table of devices, and tilts his head questioning my inquiry.
"How long, since you've kidnapped me. How long have I been in this godforsaken place." His face changes into a twisted amused look, and faces me while leaning on the table.
"Nine days and counting, kid."
Nine. Days. I've been tortured, beaten, and confiscated for nine days. I haven't seen natural daylight, grass, houses... Gerard. For nine days.
Gerard... I haven't seen his gorgeous hazel eyes, his 'gorgeously conditioned' black hair, as he called it; by now, who even knows if it's still black! That little bitch brings up a new color to dye it each week!
"What are you smiling at? Or are you finally going insane?"
I'm smiling? Dammit, Gerard, even thinking of you makes me want to melt. Wait- what's that?
My mindless gazing put a small painted window into my eyesight. The color blends into the wall, and if I wasn't paying attention (like I haven't been), I would've passed right by it. It's right above the table, too, so if or when the time comes, I could step on the table and easily climb out. I feel a bigger smile creep on, but try to hide it.
"Nothing."
"Sure."
He walks over, a hammer in hand.
"Now, let's build a treehouse, but minus the building, and a lot more smashing your fingers with a hammer."
His hand quickly pins my left hand down, making it impossible for me to move it. The hand containing the hammer rises up above his head, and falls, colliding with my index finger. I let out a high pitched scream, and look to see my finger bloody and already swollen.
"One down, four to go."
Notes
I think I'm gonna wrap the story up in like 2 or maybe next chapter(s) ((I'm sorry ): )) But I'm certain there'll be a sequel!! There will be questions at the end; most will be answered by the sequel so don't worry :) Thanks to everyone sticking with me!
-Ava xx
ATTENTION ANYONE WHO HAPPENS TO READ THIS!
I'm the author of this story- I lost my account after stupidly deleting my Tumblr which is connected to this specific account that I wrote the story on. I finally decided to get my act together and start the sequel today, March 15th, 2016. Please forgive me for my terribly late start on this. Nothing is posted but hopefully will be soon. Glad to be back everyone :)
3/15/16