Tronnor : Hostage

Epilogue.

9th October 2017.

8:00pm.

Troye's POV

Dear diary,

Exactly a year ago today, I was bundled into the back of a van, cautiously waiting for the inevitable, dreading of course what was about to come.

Exactly a year ago today I felt as if this life was the only way to hide my secret, the venomous devil that was concealed within me.

Exactly a year ago today, I had a secret.

And today I don't.

I have written my story to prove a point. I have written it to show beyond doubt that it really gets better, perfect even.

My life a year ago today was one of worry and deceit, lies the only thing I would revolve around. I thought my time on this earth was dedicated to him, my soul bound to his like a weak magnet, attracted, but never enough to stick around. I thought I would be his servant, pretending to love him, obeying his orders.

Constantly living my days in fear.

I didn't see the point of life anymore.

Rick wasn't evil, but a problem child that never grew up. His over protective attachment to me was one of emotional pain and anxiety, his true issues producing themselves in the form of anger and violence.

He didn't know anything else.

In retrospect I feel sorry for him, upset that such an innocent child was turned into a monster.

It wasn't his fault.

Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I'm straying away from the topic, and I wish to never speak of this man once I put my pen down. This is simply something you needed to know, not something I wish to share.

I have written my story down for you, the day's collected together in chunks of dates and times of the worst week of my life.

Although this is a story I would rather not speak about, something I could easily conceal, I don't want to forget about it.

This journey, although it was small, changed me as a person, made me fight the demons I had for so long avoided. It enabled me to defeat them, confront them in a way.

It enabled me to clear my mind, free myself.

But that's not the only reason I want to  remember that week, it's not the only reason to why I have changed as a person.

He changed me.

I'm not talking about Rick, Sawyer or Kian. Im not talking about myself.

I'm talking about him, my accomplice in crime.

Connor Joel Franta.

He changed me.

He taught me how to love again, he taught me how to live again.

He showed me that life was not evil, relentless games and beatings. He showed me that it was okay to be fearful of love, but the type of fear that gave me the fuzzy, butterfly nerves as he traced my cheek.

He showed me that I could be myself.

He showed me how to be happy again.

And for that, just that smile on my face, I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't regret my decisions, and I wouldn't regret my mistakes.

I made them for a reason, each one guiding me along a pathway, slowly towards the light.

He was the light.

He was my happy ending.

Love,

Troye xx

"How's it going?" I spun around in my chair to be faced with a pair of eyes, staring at me with concern, as I laid my pen to rest. I felt his arms loop around my shoulders, and I felt his head bury itself in my neck.

"I finished." I mumbled, finally closing my eyes, beginning to let the exhaustion consume me. I felt a kiss on my cheek, and suddenly he had pulled away, to look at my last page.

"I'm so glad you wrote this book Troye." He smiled, flicking to his own entries. "I'm so glad you recorded the experience, so others can learn your story." He said, taking the seat beside me.

"It's our story." I breathed, carefully clasping his hand, as he looked up at me. His emerald orbs were brighter today, his smile wide and love filled.

I liked seeing him happy.

Connor had begun to suffer towards the end of our experience, affected deeply, and emotionally, as he began to recover. He had found it hard to get over the ordeal, and it had been quite a journey for him.

But I had got him through it.

We got each other through it.

Today, although it marked a year since the worst week of our lives, it also marked the beginning of the best.

Today was the year anniversary, a year since our eyes had met.

Today was a happy day.

"Do you think you will publish the story?" Connor brought me from my thoughts, the pages still open against his lap. The whole thing was written roughly in a diary, scribbled thoughts and emotions scrambled here and there. I looked at the tatty exterior, and let out a sigh, as I took it back in my hands.

"I don't know whether I'm ready Con, I don't know if I can." I looked at the floor, pondering my decision, when I felt a strong pair of arms, wrap me comfortingly in their embrace.

"Its your choice Troye, it's your memories babe. If you want to conceal them, I'll close it, put it away in a draw, never to be seen again. But if you choose to release it, everyone shall know of how we fell in love, of how we fought our demons together."

For the last time I pictured myself as the old Troye, and shuddered at the little boys appearance. I realised that I had to do this for him, for the people who didn't believe in him at the time.

It was the only way to finally bring that part of my life to a close.

"So what do you say, is the world quite ready to find out?" He giggled, and I swatted away his arm. I took one last look at it, flipping back to the very first page. My eyes locked onto the words, the feelings that were expressed on the page.

It was a story that meant ever so much to me.

It was in that moment that I knew I wanted to share it.

"I think they're ready, don't you think?"