Captive

twelve » t r a p p e d

"Never let them take the light behind your eyes." — Unknown.

Please prepare yourselves for this chapter, it's a hard one, I even had to stop a few times to write it. Just proceed with caution.

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Octavia

"So. . ." I look over at Wilmer as we walk down the hallways, smiling up at him as I quirk a brow. "Twenty bucks says I hand you your ass on a silver platter." I grin at him.

Wilmer scoffs next to me as he walks, and he even rolls his eyes at me as we go down a flight of stairs, our boots the only noise. "Forty says you won't and that I will win." He looks over at me, a hint of a smile on his lips as we walk.

"Okay, fine. Whoever gives the other a run for their money, wins forty bucks." I say, nodding at him. Why not start now saving up money?

"You have yourself a deal." Wilmer chuckles and he slows down. I stop behind him as we reach a door. He opens it. He lets me walk in first and, with a bit of caution, I look around. My eyebrows lift in surprise.

"Wow, this is a gym? You guys knock yourselves out with this thing." I say, a little shocked as my eyes move around the huge room. In front of me is a shooting range, with all types of guns and weapons laying around. On my right is an area filled with body exercises such as fitness benches, dumbbells, lifts, flat benches and much more. Then on my left there's a boxing ring, and around it are boxing dummies. I see a few men practicing, hitting the dummies continuously.

"Demi wants us to be in shape," Wilmer says as he closes the door behind us and he stands by my side. He points to the boxing ring and I follow him to it. He hands me a pair of red gloves and helps me put them on. I try to ignore the stares from the other men working out. I can feel their eyes on my back, but it's  unnerving. If I want to play the part and act like I really want to be here, then I'll have to show them that I'm strong and not a weak puny girl.

"Whatcha lookin' at, punk?" I say, glaring at a man who's kicking a dummy. The man raises a brow at me before turning back to the dummy and continuing his workout.

Wilmer chuckles as he grabs my wrists. "That's all you got?" he says, taking my hands and slipping the red glove over my left hand.

"Hey, don't shoot me down. I'm trying to act tough here." I say, looking up at him.

"Well, you suck at it," he laughs.

I roll my eyes and let him put the glove over my hand. Once that was done, he grabs an open traditional boxing helmet and put it on my head. I smile at him as he ties the strap under my chin. "What?" he asks me, raising a brow.

"Nothing." Actually, it wasn't really nothing, no shit.

I spent most of my time in the boxing ring with Reece. You see, while I have taken self-defenses classes and know how to properly take someone down, Reece likes boxing. His excuse is that he wants to be fit and know how to fight, which I believe, but I think he just wants to impress me. Most of the time, I'm with him, watching as he throws punches at the other boys and practicing, shouting at him sometimes that his blows were weak in attempt to tease him. That boxing ring feels like home, and I ended up learning how to box.

"I know how to box, Wilmer." Smiling as I say this, Wilmer steps away from me and raises a brow.

"You do?" he asks me, then grabs a blue and black open traditional boxing helmet and puts it on his own head.

       "Yeah, I do." He nods and grabs his own gloves. He slides them over his hands while I walk to one side of the ring and he went to the other.