Copyright© [boyxboy]

Chapter 32

Dylan's POV

An eerie grin formed in Wayne's face as he sat on top of me, crushing my waist with his weight. I was tied, basically helpless, and when his fist collided with my jaw, I knew, I wouldn't be able to make it out alive.

Visions of Luke appeared in my head, the memories stronger than the fist repeatedly pounding on my head. I thought of the way Luke's face completely changed when he realized he had opened a fresher wound, back before we did anything, well, what we do. I licked my lips, tasting a metallic fluid that could only be my blood. I put my tied hands up, stopping the next hit from Wayne. I gathered as much energy as I could, and with as much force as I could possibly fathom, I quickly punched him in the nose. Blood spewed out in droplets as he fixed his face towards mine. He got off of the couch, and me, and pulled me by a chunk of hair, throwing me onto the floor. I grunted as my head came into contact with a sharp corner of the black coffee table.

I flailed my legs, even though they had been tied extremely tight, and tried squirming away. Wayne walked away, only to put his arms on the back of the couch to stare at my worm-like figure.

I heard him cackle, "I really missed this, ya know? Beating the absolute shit out of you. That's why I'm gonna make it last for as long as I can." He drew out the "o" in long, smirking at the end of his sentence.

I glared at him, "You won't get anywhere but a jail cell. If you're lucky they'll put you on death row."

"You keep saying that, but you know it won't happen. I wanna hear you scream. I want to hear that cute little voice of yours curse. That would be the true prize."

I kept my glare on him, on his horrific smile, and on his twitching arms.

"You're deranged. Psychotic, even," I spat out.

"Oh I know, little one. And that's why this is so much fun," he began walking back around the couch, grabbing something from a rocking chair I had not seen before. He paced over to me, a quite large knife in hand. He pulled the weapon out of its sheath, and I hated the fact that you could buy shrades online.

I tried backing away, but the tall man grabbed me by my ankles and dragged me towards him. He leaned down, cutting my jeans with the small machete, making it clear that it was sharp enough to cut through material with ease. I brought my knees to my face and slammed them where I knew it would hurt. He coughed and kneeled over, trying to regain his breath from the kick to the jewels. I scrambled, turned on my stomach, and with the support of my elbows, stood on my clamped legs. I didn't see a sharp thing in which he wasn't near or holding, so I hopped. I felt so pathetic, resorting to hopping towards the nearest exit, which happened to be a door to the balcony. Damn apartments and not having actual backyards. I heard the shrade stab into the coffee table, and I knew I was in for it. As quickly as I could, my heart pounding out of my chest, I opened the balcony door.

My plan was to jump, down all those floors, and to hope I might survive with a broken everything. But I wouldn't be able to get up onto the railings if I was untied and in perfect condition. As the footsteps of the bull stomped towards me, I did what I knew I would be able to. I screamed.

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Lukes POV

I was running around the apartments, not knowing where to start, while the cop ran to catch up to me.

"You're insane, kid. Going into apartments still oozing with poison to save a kid you don't know for one hundred percent is actually in there or not?"

Damn, I got an annoying cop.

From way above us, we heard a shatter, and a person shout, "Luke!" I knew that voice.

My heart shattered and I began running up the stairs as fast as my legs would carry me. He doesn't even know if I'm actually here or not, he cried out for my name. Stupid, stupid, Dylan. No one would come to you if it hadn't have been me. Cry for help, not me.  The cop trailed behind me, "Holy shit. You were right," and as we continued our journey up the stairs, he grabbed his walkie-talkie, "Morgan to police base. We have an emergency here. I'll need immediate backup." He described our whereabouts while panting for air. My heart was pounding from moving so much, but I would not stop. I needed to find Dylan. I needed to tell him I love him, I needed to tell him I was planning on spending the rest of my life with him.