Take My Hand And Don't Look Back
Bitch.
Frank's POV
The man holding me captive is not my father. I knew this before, but I'm certain of it now. We made an agreement for him to tell me when it's a new day, following how long I've been there. Today is the mark of my 15th day of being tortured. He would use a select few of weapons one day, then the next another, making sure not to use one weapon two days in a row.
I'm barely even a functioning human being anymore. My eyesight is blurred most of the time, anything I normally should be able to move is numb, and I'm just all-around in pain. I think of Gerard as much as possible because no matter how cheesy and tacky it may sound, he makes the hurt go away.
Today's pick was an icepick, the same hammer used to 'build my treehouse', a serrated knife, and tweezers. So far, my shoulder had an open gash thanks to the knife, most of my right eyebrow gone due to tweezers, and he was about to start the job of the icepick as his phone vibrated on the table, giving me a few extra minutes to sit there and await the actions that will soon take place.
"Hm... very interesting. Look at this, son." He slaps me, then shows me the brightly lit phone screen withholding a text. The sender was under as 'Jamia Nestor'. The text itself made me more nauseated than the fact they were still in contact.
Jamia: Send me your address. I want Frank to know how I've felt for the past year or so.
"A visitor might be nice, no?" He looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he types back, sending the message containing the location I'm held captive at. What the fuck? He puts the phone back to its resting place on the table, and picks up the icepick once again, walking towards me with it gripped tightly in his hand. Time for more slashing and stabbing, I guess.
-
I was told that Jamia would come on my 17th day, making me impatiently wait for her arrival, hoping I could convince her somehow to help me out. Knowing how damn stubborn she is, the plan just might fail, but it still has a chance. It was currently at the end of the 15th day when I tried planning out a lecture to give her on how she should give me mercy and remind her of 'us' and how I still care about her, and leave the fact about how I care about Gerard more out but that's beside the point. I fall asleep to the thoughts whirring around my brain, and wake up to my entire body drenched in ice cold water.
"Look alive, sunshine," My kidnapper stands with a devilish grin, and holds a lighter in his hand with a bucket (presumably which held the water thats now seeping a painful cold into my veins) in the other. He steps forward, and lights the match, bringing it close to my arm, burning it in the slightest, but nonetheless burning it. I yelp in pain, and he diminishes the fire by snapping the lid back onto the tiny metal box.
"That kid's commin' tomorrow, thought we'd make you look pretty for her," He turns around and grabs a comb off the table, and continues to brush my tattered hair. It was odd, and I didn't like it; he knew that, too. He was tugging and tearing and it hurt. Once he decided my hair looked fine, he moved onto brushing my teeth. He shoved a toothbrush with toothpaste on it into my mouth violently, jostling it around in a painful manner.
That ended my 'prepping', which then I realized he had decided to move back onto the torturing. Another day of hurt, then I see my very old friend, who is only coming to hurt me.
What a fucking great week.
The man holding me captive is not my father. I knew this before, but I'm certain of it now. We made an agreement for him to tell me when it's a new day, following how long I've been there. Today is the mark of my 15th day of being tortured. He would use a select few of weapons one day, then the next another, making sure not to use one weapon two days in a row.
I'm barely even a functioning human being anymore. My eyesight is blurred most of the time, anything I normally should be able to move is numb, and I'm just all-around in pain. I think of Gerard as much as possible because no matter how cheesy and tacky it may sound, he makes the hurt go away.
Today's pick was an icepick, the same hammer used to 'build my treehouse', a serrated knife, and tweezers. So far, my shoulder had an open gash thanks to the knife, most of my right eyebrow gone due to tweezers, and he was about to start the job of the icepick as his phone vibrated on the table, giving me a few extra minutes to sit there and await the actions that will soon take place.
"Hm... very interesting. Look at this, son." He slaps me, then shows me the brightly lit phone screen withholding a text. The sender was under as 'Jamia Nestor'. The text itself made me more nauseated than the fact they were still in contact.
Jamia: Send me your address. I want Frank to know how I've felt for the past year or so.
"A visitor might be nice, no?" He looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he types back, sending the message containing the location I'm held captive at. What the fuck? He puts the phone back to its resting place on the table, and picks up the icepick once again, walking towards me with it gripped tightly in his hand. Time for more slashing and stabbing, I guess.
-
I was told that Jamia would come on my 17th day, making me impatiently wait for her arrival, hoping I could convince her somehow to help me out. Knowing how damn stubborn she is, the plan just might fail, but it still has a chance. It was currently at the end of the 15th day when I tried planning out a lecture to give her on how she should give me mercy and remind her of 'us' and how I still care about her, and leave the fact about how I care about Gerard more out but that's beside the point. I fall asleep to the thoughts whirring around my brain, and wake up to my entire body drenched in ice cold water.
"Look alive, sunshine," My kidnapper stands with a devilish grin, and holds a lighter in his hand with a bucket (presumably which held the water thats now seeping a painful cold into my veins) in the other. He steps forward, and lights the match, bringing it close to my arm, burning it in the slightest, but nonetheless burning it. I yelp in pain, and he diminishes the fire by snapping the lid back onto the tiny metal box.
"That kid's commin' tomorrow, thought we'd make you look pretty for her," He turns around and grabs a comb off the table, and continues to brush my tattered hair. It was odd, and I didn't like it; he knew that, too. He was tugging and tearing and it hurt. Once he decided my hair looked fine, he moved onto brushing my teeth. He shoved a toothbrush with toothpaste on it into my mouth violently, jostling it around in a painful manner.
That ended my 'prepping', which then I realized he had decided to move back onto the torturing. Another day of hurt, then I see my very old friend, who is only coming to hurt me.
What a fucking great week.
Notes
Holy shit holy shit I'm sooooo bad at updating! But I got my surgery ((YAY!!)) And I'm currently recovering. Hope you're all still enjoying! But seriously message me or comment yelling at me if I don't update this in a span of one week thanks xx
Also, this is going up on wattpad!! So if you wanna read it again or if you want a friends to read it who doesn't wanna go on here, my user is @iernoway and it's titled the same and everything ((I literally am copying and pasting so it's an exact copy of this story okok))
Thank you all for sticking with me and reading!! I appreciate it very much :)
-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