Hostage

Falling and crashing (featuring Muse)

Ayyyyy, 300 reads, that's really exciting for me!!! I've had a really sucky day, so I thought I'd finish this chapter to cheer myself up. // I seriously encourage you to listen to the Muse songs mentioned in this chapter if you haven't heard them. They really set the tone of the scene they're in. Also they are fantastic, because Muse is fantastic, the end.

What the hell is that sound? I try to burrow further under the blankets, but the loud buzz continues.  My hand searches for Jerome but only meets cold sheets. Worried, I sit up and hurry down the passage towards the noise without pausing to think. The commotion is coming from a dimly lit room I hadn't taken notice of before. Aaand, there are the weapons I expected.
Jerome is currently holding a chainsaw and facing off against Greenwood who has a katana. Panic overwhelms me. I can't stop them and Dobkins is utterly useless, sitting on the floor wearing a knight's helmet like a child. Somebody please do something! Theo walks in, "That's enough!"  I breathe a sign of relief. I glare at Dobkins when he claims he tried to stop them, spineless idiot. Not that he notices, nobody even knows I'm here in the back corner.
I'm too lost in my own thoughts to take note of their discussion... Until Theo pulls out a revolver. What the hell?! "You all know this game right?" Theo asks as he loads one bullet. "Oh love it," Jerome replies. I look at him in shock but he still hasn't noticed me. Greenwood puts the gun to his temple and I wince, even though I hate the guy I don't want to see anyone die in front of me. I don't need anymore psychological trauma. Nothing happens and Jerome takes the weapon. Shit, shit, shit. No, put it down! , I command silently. But Jerome is only focused on Greenwood. "Hey Greenwood, what's the secret to good comedy?" He asks while holding the gun to his own head.
Blood is rushing through my ears and my heart is trying to claw its way out my chest. The first click, my hand flies to my mouth. But he's not done. "Timing. And what's courage?" He continues with the steel pressed against his cheek. The second click, I use my hand to steady myself against a statue. Stop, I silently moan. "Grace under pressure," he answers his own question, "And who's the boss?" The gun is under his chin and I can barely stand to watch.The third click. "I'm the boss," a throaty chuckle escapes as he gives the gun over. I sag fully against the statue, my legs no longer supporting my weight. Finally Jerome turns around with the katana, a triumphant smile on his face. He takes in my limp form and pale face. His expression abruptly shifts into worry.
He leads me out of the room silently, supporting my weight and glancing at me in concern the whole time. When we're alone I have some of my strength back. My reaction surprises both of us. "What. The. Hell. Was. That?" I poke him in the chest with every word to emphasize my point. He just stands there open-mouthed. "You could have died! You could have killed yourself!" I rake my hands through my hair before hugging him tightly.
"You...care about me?" He breathes out disbelieving. "Yes!" I break away to look at him, "and you almost just offed yourself in front of me!" He looks at me like I've spoken to him in a foreign language. It seems he's still coming to terms with what I've just admitted but he pulls me in for a hug. I bury my face in his silk robe, still breathing heavily; only once I'm back to normal do we stop holding each other. We carry on the day with the same things we always do, but I'd be lying if I said it felt normal. Jerome keeps sneaking glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking; I'm doing the same. Things have changed the past few days, and it seems like both of us don't really know how to react. So we sit here, assessing each other, trying to figure out what to do now.

Later on when I think back to that morning I'm disgusted with myself. Because underneath all the horror, there was a small part of me that was turned on by the way Jerome acted. He could have died! I chastise myself. But it was the way he held himself. Controlled and confident in the face of danger. The slight smile. And the low growl of his voice when he said, "Who's the boss?" I bite my lip. Clearly, there's something seriously wrong with me. I'm obviously a freak. I've been around these people too long, they're starting to rub off on me.

The tense atmosphere continues the next two days. There's a charge in the air. My breath hitches whenever he looks at me. He's even more fidgety than usual, he can't seem to still his hands even for a second. We haven't really talked much. All we've done is silently watch TV. The past two nights have been warmer, so we've slept on opposite sides of the bed.
I take a deep breath. If I'm honest with myself, I don't like it. I... Want Jerome's arms around me. I've been struggling to sleep and his breathing doesn't even out as quickly as it used to. I think he might feel the same as me and we're just too unsure of what to say since we haven't had the cold as an excuse.
We're in his room instead of the lounge for once. He'd suggested we listen to music and hit play on my iPod. I sprawl on the bed while he puts away his laundry. My mind is blank until we reach my Muse playlist. I try to convince myself the lyrics are true as Hypermusic blares around me..."You know I don't want you and I never did. I don't want you and I never will." It's Stockholm syndrome and latching onto the only source of kindness here, I repeat to myself like a mantra. I'm not stupid, I know what happens to a lot of people who've been kidnapped. They develop feelings for their kidnappers through familiarity. "You know I don't love you and I never did. I don't want you and I never will." But the words aren't completely true. Maybe it is Stockholm syndrome, but that doesn't make these feelings any less apparent. I was terrified to acknowledge them, hoping they were just a result of stress. But now I can feel my control slipping, and I don't seem to care. I give in to temptation and watch him from across the room, he looks restless.
Hysteria comes on and Jerome's eyes meet mine. That's when I know it's too late. He walks over slowly. Each step in time to the riffs and I rise to meet him. Both of us in a bit of a daze. We stare at each other as his hand slowly comes up to cup my face. Then it happens quickly, much too fast to see who made the first move. We crash into each other, my hands knotting in his hair. His one arm around my waist. His mouth is urgent on mine, desperate. I respond in the same way. These lyrics are much more accurate. "Because I want it now, I want it now..."
We separate, breathing heavily. After a few seconds we break into wide grins. "You like me!" I accuse giggling. "More than anyone," he replies softly, "and you like me." He taps my nose. "Yes," I breathe.
Everything has changed again, but this time for the better. We act like normal flirty teenagers. At the dinner table we keep glancing at each other out of the corners of our eyes, breaking into fits of laughter and nudging each other. The girls and Theo seem interested in our abrupt change of mood, raising their eyebrows and smirking. Greenwood stabs his steak with more force than necessary.

I've just finished putting away my washed clothes when Jerome practically skips out the bathroom. On his way to bed he scoops me up into his arms. I laugh breathlessly as he puts me down and lies facing me. His arms wrap around my waist, "I missed this."  I smile softly, "Me too." He leans down to kiss me. This time it's soft and sweet, not like the frenzied one we shared earlier. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.