Cowboys and Angels

Chapter 22

Days turned to weeks and months. I was still stuck in hell. It seemed like forever and I was going to die any moment. Then, I began losing hope anyone would ever find me.

He abused me. That son of a bitch father that I wish I never even had abused me and beat me like I was a punching bag at a boxing gym.

Every night I lied awake thinking about my momma and my best friends, the people I loved with every ounce of my being--the people I would never see again.

During the night, I lied awake thinking of ways I could make a run for it. But every thought soon faded when I'd pass out from being so tired. Of course like any American, he worked. So I sat there being drowned in my own thoughts, screaming my lungs out. Nothing. I was locked up. Not tied. The doors and windows and every single way to get from the inside out was locked...from the outside. Who the hell does that?! Oh wait! A fucking kidnapper.

My life was spiraling downhill...fast. I felt like I was in prison. I did NOTHING, and I was locked up. But no one could hear me. We were in the middle of nowhere in a huge mansion like home. I said I would fight and I did for three weeks straight. Hell, I got a swollen eye and many lacerations and bruises. It was almost three months since being kidnapped.

I sat by the window in the kitchen and cried for hours, hoping that one day I'd see my momma and friends again. I was giving up. I was dying. Never in  my life had I imagined being kidnapped. Now I was stuck in my father's home unable to leave, breathe, or fight. I was done. I prayed to God that it was okay to take me. I couldn't live any longer. The pain I was feeling was unreal. I wanted to die yet be saved. But was anyone looking for me? IT HAD BEEN THREE FREAKIN' MONTHS. All I ever did anymore was cry. I was never going to make it out alive.

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*Hunter's POV*

"I CAN'T FUCKING DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE." Brett was screaming every single day for her, about her. I was surprised he hadn't lost his voice or damaged his vocal cords. But anything that sparked his panic attacks, he'd destroy anything in his way. His apartment was a mess. I was a wreck also. But unlike Brett, I didn't give up hope. I knew she was still alive. I had this instinct that she was and I would find her.

Brett shot me a look, his eyes bloodshot from crying. I had only seen him cry once within the whole time we've known each other but now it was like every day he'd burst out bawling. I reassured him she was alright, but then he'd go on a rampage and destroy things. It was frightening he could get so mad. There were times where I felt like killing someone. I was helpless and worthless at this point. Anyone in this town who really knew her felt the same way I did.

I looked over and Brett and gave him a confused look. "What?" I asked.

"Man," he whispered, barely enough so I could hear him across the room, "I can't live without her. It's been months. When is someone going to grow some balls and look for her before she winds up dead?"

"They are. She's gunna be alright. She's tough."

I could see anger grow as the veins on his neck became bold. "Shut the fuck up and stop saying that."

I backed away and replied, "Sorry, man. C'mon, let's go to a bar or somethin'."

"Whatever."

And we did. We went to bar that wasn't too far from us. Jerry's Bar & Grill was the only bar in town that let teenagers in to grab something to eat. Any other one, you needed ID to get in.

When we got there, we sat down and Jerry came over and sat at the table next to us.

"How y'all holdin' up?" he asked, throwing a hand on my shoulder.