Left To Survive

XXXVII

꧁ Yara ꧂

I've been trying to get out if these damn chains since that creep left with Alisha. More than about myself, I worry about her. If he even laid a finger on her...

The chains wouldn't budge. How did he even manage to trap me? A month ago no one could hear, see or touch me. Now I couldn't seem to get out of these freaking handcuffs. My wrists were bloody from trying, and they hurt a lot, so I stopped. Just for a few minutes.

Then I heard the door opening, and my body immediately tensed up. It was Jaden. He walked up to me, taking slow steps. He really thought he was so big, didn't he? But I refused to let fear take over.

He stopped in front of me and just stared at me. I stared back. Suddenly he slapped me with the back of his hand across my face; I couldn't move away in time. And it burned. I looked up at him, more anger running through my veins. "Don't fucking touch me!" I spit out to him. Jaden softly chuckled. "You wish, slut. I'd kill you right here, right now, if it wasn't for Alisha being sad about your death."

"I'm already dead, idiot. And you know that. How can you even fucking touch and see me?"

"Ah, like I'd tell you. Don't worry, I'll finish with you soon enough. Just came by here to tell you." He squat down in front of me, so that our eyes were on the same level. He took a knife out. It seemed from the same material as my handcuffs. With a soft voice he continued. "I wanted to wait with killing you until Alisha trusts me enough, like she's bound to do... But you're just so fucking annoying..." He scraped the sharp side of the blade along my cheek, leaving a trail of dripping blood. I didn't move. "I'm not scared of you, Jaden, you think you're so great, but you're just a pathetic fucking psychopath. Alisha will never fucking love you, you hear me? She is scared of you. She just wants to get as far away as possible from you. So if you really love her like you say you do, which I don't believe, you'll leave her the fuck a-"

I gasped for air when he shoved the knife deep in my stomach. His face was close to mine as he whispered. "No." He then continued to turn the knife around, making the pain a million times worse, and it indulged my entire world. Taking the knife out, he got up and walked away, without saying one more word.

He left me there, bleeding out, gasping for air.

I couldn't believe I died for a second time.

A week later

6 July

꧁ Alisha ꧂

I think I'm dying. Both mentally and physically. I just couldn't take my life like this anymore.

I barely ate anything Jaden brought me. I only ate crackers or things fresh out of a plastic packaging, because I knew he was trying to drug me. He drugged me with the first meal he gave me, but I learned, and it was not going to happen again. It resulted in me barely eating though, and the last time I ate something was a day ago? Or more? I don't even remember.

I hadn't left my small prison room yet, and Jaden liked to "keep me company" and stayed in the same room while reading a book, scrolling through his phone or doing stuff on his laptop. Or sometimes, he just stared at me. And that was only during the day. At night he joined me in bed.

The first night he joined me when I was already asleep, and I almost had a heart attack when I woke up in his arms. The second night I tried staying up, but I fell asleep anyways, and same scenario. Even when I was sleeping on the floor, he simply picked me up in my sleep and dragged me in the bed. Thank God he hadn't touched me like that yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he crossed that line.

I had told him so many times, so many times that I lost count, to let me and Yara go, that I didn't love him or whatever he felt for me, that I was scared. He ignored me.

And I didn't even want to think about Yara... Or why he held her too. I prayed that she is okay.

But I had a plan. Yesterday he told me about how he'd be away for some hours, and that I "shouldn't be lonely". It felt like freedom. And it was the perfect time for my plan.

As soon as I heard his car drive away, I took the piece of metal that I broke off the bed, and took a deep breath before slicing open the palm of my right hand. Red blood dripped out of it, and I squeezed to get out more. The pain was blinding, but I didn't budge. I dipped two fingers of my left hand in the blood and reached through the bars around the bed. With some effort and a lot of pain I wrote on the window HELP, as big as I could. I really hope it'd work. It was my last hope.