Misunderstood

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ashton’s POV

“Harper, Harper where are you?” I whisper as I come to my senses. I suddenly realize that my arms are stretched above my head and as I try to move my legs I notice that they can’t be moved. Looking down I see that they are shackled together, as are my arms to the wall behind my back. 

“Dammit, Harper are you in here?” I furiously whisper, although my whisper isn’t so much a whisper any more. My voice is becoming louder with the anger and fearfulness ballooning through my stomach. He told us he would keep us alive, he told us Ethan was safe, and now the young boy never gets to live the rest of his life…because of us. 

I feel the tears stinging my eyes as they try to adjust to this darkness surrounding me. This darkness that I feel as if I will never crawl out of. I fe! el as if it something that will completely engulf me for the rest of my life if I get out of here tonight. 

When it becomes clear that I am in the small room alone I start to panic. Where is Harper? Oh please don’t let her be dead. 

“Hey! Hey psycho, where’s Harper at?!” I yell as I shake my arms and legs, making my shackles sing a dismal tune against the wall. 

As if hearing me, I am answered by a piercing scream. A scream that could only belong to one person. Harper. 

“Hey! Hey! Leave her alone!” I yell, no longer caring about my own safety as I worry about what that psycho is doing to that poor girl just on the other side of the door. 

I hear a cackle of laughter but other than that my pleas go unanswered, other than the faltering scream that grows weaker by the second. I have no idea what is happening to Harper, but I know she won’t last for much longer. 

“Andy,” I try out psycho’s real name, even though it seems foreign on my lips. The name itself leaves an awful, bitter taste in my mouth. Knowing that someone that used to be our friend, that used to play in the streets with us was on the other side of that door torturing Harper was sick. 

My plan seems to have worked though, I hear the screaming stop. “Andy,” I start again, “why are you doing this man? What did we ever do to you? I thought we were all friends?” I speak loudly, trying to contain the fear that is seeping out of my voice. 

“Don’t call me your friend as if you don’t know what you did to me!” Andy yells, suddenly bursting through the door, his eyes black as coal as he stares at me in anger. I look past him to see Harper slumped to the ground, her face bloody and her eyes closed. Oh please God, don’t be dead. 

“Andy, we didn’t do anything to you though?” I repeat, trying to keep him talking. Maybe if he stays and talks to me the police will make it here allowing Harper and I to get out of this alive. Or at least get Harper out alive, I think as I notice the large, bloody knife in Andy’s hand. 

“You didn’t do anything? You guys didn’t do anything?!” He answers, his voice rising with hysteria. I keep watch on the large knife he continues to swing around in his hand. I need to keep that blade as far away from me as possible. 

“You guys, your families left me and my mom when we needed help the most! My mom lost her job, and what do you guys do, you just throw us out like we’re no longer alive!” Andy screams and I can see a small amount of movement behind his body. I see that Harper’s eyes are open, just barely, but she is holding her head up captivated by whatever Andy is saying at the moment. She’s alive.

“Andy, Harper and I, even Luke and Sahara we were all kids. What could we have done about it? We had no idea what was going on,” I answer, my voice soothing as if trying to calm down a small child throwing a tantrum about there being no more chocolate chip cookies.