When I Fall For My Kidnapper

Chapter Sixteen

I wake to the horrible feeling of my back being locked in place and my neck immobile, my shoulder bruised against the ground and my skin crawling with dirt.

I sincerely, with all my heart, hope that no one else has to wake up this way.

It takes me a good five minutes to manage to sit up. Sleeping on a concrete floor is unsurprisingly downright painful. I glance at the sleeping body on the bed beside me, looking all peaceful and comfortable wrapped in clean, soft sheets.

Glaring, I shake him awake, not feeling at all bad about waking Trevor up. He is the reason my neck is locked sideways and my back feels like it's shaped like a freaking question mark.

"Ally..." Trevor mumbles into the pillow, his lips barely moving, eyes closed.

I didn't have a freaking pillow last night.

I didn't have a mattress, either.

"Wake the hell up, you selfish asshole." I growl, yanking his pillow out from under his head.

His eyes snap open to glare into mine, before letting out a long, tired sigh of annoyance.

"Well you're in a great mood," Trevor mutters, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He winces as he touches his bruised one, and shakes his head as if to shrug off the pain. But I refuse to feel bad for him.

He made me sleep on the floor.

He can go walk off a cliff for all I care at the moment.

"My back hurts like hell, my face feels like hell, my knees are sore as hell, and my shoulder is as deformed as hell. And it's your fault." I hiss, realizing how sore my body is from The Great Chase yesterday. It was like balloons stuck under my skin, a cramp that locked into my muscles.

"If it makes you feel any better, you look like hell, too." A small smile breaks across his lips, as he reaches out to ruffle my more than likely atrocious hair.

I slap his hand away, glaring as he chuckles. "Fuck you."

"Aw, I love how you talk to me first thing in the morning, Ally."

"You'll be lucky to see another morning, so cherish this."

He lets out another raspy chuckle, his hair falling over his forehead. It's not fair that Trevor can just wake up looking like a model that professional make up artists perfected.

It's.

Just.

Not.

Fair.

"I need to shower," I mutter, feeling self conscious as Trevor wakes up looking like a prince and I probably look like Bigfoot.

"Yeah, I think you do too. Is that dirt on your cheek? Oh, and in your hair?" Trevor mocks.

"Is that a dick in your personality?" I snap back, making him look fake-offended.

"The public restrooms are down the hall. I don't know if they're as nice as the shower-room in prison is, but consider yourself warned."

"Are you making fun of an ex-con?" I demand.

"I wouldn't dare. I don't want you to get arrested for aggressive behavior again. That'd be devastating." Trevor can't help but let out a snort of a laugh.

My glaring shuts him up.

"It'd be even more devastating if I get convicted for murder." I pause. "Especially for you."

"You want to murder me?" Trevor fakes looking hurt.

"If you make me sleep on the ground ever again, yes. Definitely yes."