You Won't Feel A Thing - (The Script Fanfic)

Chapter 40

I had no recollection of time other than the small window that allowed miniscule amounts of light in. When I had first become aware of the window, it was day time and after being sat in a cocoon of pain and self-pity, the sun had plunged well under the horizon to allow the stars to inherit the sky. The stars hardly twinkled, reluctant to be in the sky, having to look down at the dismay of Earth. Not that I could blame them: Earth truly was worthy of dismay.

Every knock or bang from outside the room set my spine rigid, my mind spinning at the thought that Dylan was coming back, until nobody came and I was safe for a limited time. Every time a shadow passed the door, interrupting the light spilling under the wood in thin ribbons, I froze and tried to make myself as small as possible. But there was no point as nobody entered.

You're going to be left to starve to death. For some reason, that seemed to be the worst way to go. At least if he killed me personally, it would be over pretty quickly. Perhaps his plan was to make my death slow and painful? What would he have to lose?

A shadow passed over the door. I whipped my head around, watching carefully, pleading for nobody to come in and see me; the bleeding, hurting, emotional wreck that I was, suffocating from self-hatred. My shoulders hunched over, sending pins and needles through my muscles as I moved for the first time in a long time, my body reacting negatively to the action. Pull yourself together. You're not going to stay alive by trying to hide.

Somehow, those two sentences pulled a curtain across everything bad, focusing on my primary instinct as an animal: survival. I didn't know which way my body was willing to sway, whether to fight or flight, but I was willing for either to control me like a puppet if it meant that I wouldn't meet the same fate as Chantel. Selfish, but I didn't have time to worry about anybody else. Not yet, at least.

Adrenalin began its course around my body as the door opened, light from the hallway spilling into the room. The door did not close behind the figure, neither did the figure move.

"Are you just going to terrorise me from the door frame? Because I'm so scared." Sarcasm dripped from the words, causing surprise to even me.

A siren sounded loudly, the sound coming from outside. I turned my gaze towards the window, blue and red lights flashing and highlighting the murky marks on the window. When I turned back, the figure had moved; the person was now crouched at my other side. The blue and red flashes lit up Dylan's face, his skin pale and his face grim. Never before had I seen someone so scared. It almost inflicted some sympathy.

Almost.

"You can't be found. They'll know I did it. They'll know." His eyes flickered around the room, desperation fueling the unease inside of him.

"They'll know when I tell them." I lurched forward, bringing my face closer to his. He flinched, seeming nothing more than a scared child. My heart sank slightly, but I ignored it. I didn't have time to be feeling sympathy towards murderers. "Let me go." I wished for my voice to sound remotely threatening, but it's hard when you've never had to do it previously.

Something in him flipped. The psycho was back, clouding over the dishwater-grey iris of his eyes. Everything about his demeanor shifted: his posture stiffened, his smile verged on manic, his eyes bled out craziness.

"Let you go?" He barked out laughter. All my strength was needed to prevent me from flinching or drawing-back. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"I think you need Jesus." I retaliated, knowing how immature it was, but not being particularly bothered about restraining the retorts.

A humourless laugh left his lips. "Do you think I give a shit about what you think?" The lights continued to dance across his face as they alternated. His hand reached up, grabbing hold of my throat and squeezing until my throat blocked and I could no longer breathe in. He reached down past the pole holding me still, feeding his hand down to the cable ties on my wrists. I felt the scratching of a blade against my skin and the relief of freedom. "The louder you scream, the more exciting this gets." His teeth were revealed as his lips edged up in what I assumed was a smile.