Take My Broken Soul

CH 45- Battered Bones

Lainey POV-

*Friday, 10:30 p.m.*

Hearing the sound of men's voices, I slowly blink my eyes open. As I do, I realize I am back home, in my living room. I move to stand up but feel a sharp tug on my ankles. Looking down, I see I am tied to one of our old kitchen chairs. 

What the hell?

Trying to get my bearings back, I whip my head around to the sounds of the voices. As I do that, I feel a blinding pain in my head and see stars in my vision. 

Owww!

The shock from the pain must have been enough to fully wake me up because in a second, everything comes flashing back to me. The football game, Wyatt getting hurt, seeing Dorian, the gun, his friend, the sharp pain, and then blackness. 

Moving slower this time, I turn to the voices that are getting louder. A few seconds later, I see my uncle and his friend, Jack, stumbling towards me, both holding beers and cigarettes. I try to scoot away from their forms, but the ropes hold me in. 

"Well, well. The little bitch finally decided to wake up. I was afraid Jack had killed you. That would have been a shame. I would've been pretty mad if my toy died before I got a little playtime in." My uncle sneers at me. 

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Dorian. I'm not your toy. Let me go right now." I reply, in a voice much more confident than I actually feel. 

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because he quickly steps to me and grips my chin roughly in his sweaty hands. He forces me to look into his cold, lifeless eyes. A memory flashes through my head of Nathan doing the same move. Only, when he did it I felt completely safe and in love. Now, all I feel is terror and rage. 

"Oh, so you think you're so tough. I see. The slut goes off and finds a new life and thinks she's all that. Only you forgot one thing, murderers don't get new lives." He spits out at me and squeezes his hand. 

The motion hurts like hell, but I manage to keep down my whimper and tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He must see my intentions because he backs up and turns towards Jack. 

"Thank you for your help, my friend. Your payment will be transferred to your account momentarily." He says businesslike and motions to the door. 

Jack takes the hint, nods, and walks out, leaving just my uncle and me in the place I once called home. Instead of immediately attacking me, like I figured, my uncle slowly walks to the kitchen and comes back out with a knife. He twists the shiny metal in his hand and leans against the couch.

"Here's how this is going to go. We are going to sit here and I am going to make you pay. Then, when I get tired, I'm going to take my gun and shoot you. That way, the real murderer can be in the ground and my brother can finally have the justice he deserves." Dorian says eerily calm. I can see his bloodshot eyes and slight sway, so I know he's intoxicated, though he seems to be hiding it well right now. 

"That will never happen. My friends will come looking for me and you will pay." I reply, remembering my hints to Candace.

Please hurry, Nate. 

My uncle's face contorts in anger and I watch his fists clench around the knife. Faster than I thought him capable, he moves over and proceeds to kick and hit me. I can feel the blood running down my face and the blinding pain in my body is enough to make me go unconscious. Fighting off the urge, I remain still and wait for the beatings to end.  

After a few minutes, he returns to his original position and resumes his task. The room is so silent, I hear nothing but my own heart. He continues to just stand there and play with the knife. I can tell in his eyes, he is too far gone. The alcohol and probably drugs have left me in the hands of a completely off-his-rocker, psychopath that believes I murdered his brother.