Bad Enough For You (Alex Gaskarth Fan Fiction)

Praying For A Nightmare

Riley’s Point Of View

 

               If someone were to ask me what time it is or how long I’ve been down here in this damp and dark basement I don’t think I would know how to answer them correctly. I probably couldn’t even tell you if it were daytime or if it were nighttime or even that little portion of the in between where you realize oh shit the day is over. I know it’s either been a day or I’ve been knocked out. That’s all I know. And judging by the strong and potent smell of copper lingering in the air, I’ve been knocked out.

               I yank at the chain that’s linked to my left ankle and with the pull of the metal I feel the scrape along my skin. I groan softly so I know he isn’t aware I’m awake yet. I move slowly towards it, my naked body pricking new goose bumps all over it as I shift around on my air mattress bed. Delicately, I move the shackle up so expose the wound. It’s red and dried blood sticks to both my skin and the metal.

               I sigh and reach to the ripped part of my wrecked blanket and tear a small piece off before I wrap it thinly around the metal to protect my ankle from all of the rubbing. As I lay back down in hopes of sleeping this nightmare off, the door opens. The sudden noise scaring me as I jump to pull my body closer together, only yanking the shackle that chains me to the cement pillar about five feet from me.

               His footsteps are heavy and they remind me of cannons as they work their way down the steps. As more of his body becomes visible, I see a plastic bag in his right hand but I can’t tell what’s inside but I know for sure it will be something I don’t like. The smell of fresh fruits hits me and it gives me a second of comfort that maybe I’ll be fed now. Ashton hasn’t said a word to me yet since I’ve been here. Maybe that’s good and maybe that’s bad. I’m not too sure but I can’t tell how long that’s been. Every second now has turned into long and excruciating hours.

               Soon, I see his face and he smiles somewhat friendly at me but I feel no sense of security or relief. I want to lunge at him. I want to pound his face in with whatever is in the plastic bag. “Hey,” He calls as he comes to sit next to me on the bed. I scoot as far away as the chain will let me and I see a light of pain flash into his eyes. “I brought you a fruit salad and some water, baby.”

               “Don’t call me that.” I spat at him. He cocks his head to the side a furrows his light brows. I look away from his eyes and at the bag that he says is filled with fruits.

               “That’s no way to treat your boyfriend.” His voice floods with hurt. “I brought you all this food.” His hands slip into the plastic bag and he pulls out a plastic store bought container of fruit salad that hasn’t been opened. Which is good. That means he didn’t drug it and nor did he have the chance to fiddle with it. The water bottle he pulls out next is also sealed.

               I snatch the food hastily and greedily out of his disgusting hands and put them behind me so I know he can’t take them once I speak. “I am not your girlfriend and you are not my boyfriend.”

               “I love you,” Ashton whispers as hurt flashes in his once friendly eyes.

               My stomach rolls at the very sound of those words coming from his lips. The way his mouth fits around each syllable and sound is abnormal and certainly doesn’t belong. Instead of saying something this time, I vibrate my throat and spit on his cheek. He jumps in response and then without warning he clocks his hand back and slaps me across my cheek, leaving a stinging sensation but I’d take that feeling over hearing those words ever again.