Hurricane - The Greatest Showman ~ Anne X Phillip {Sequel to B R O K E N; free}

Dark Room

AN: Hey sorry it's been a while I've been in DC. I have the entire story planned out from here on out so there's quite a few chapters left. It's not over.
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Phillip's POV:

I wake abruptly. The first thing I notice is that I'm sitting down. Then I notice I'm in a small dark room. With nothing but a small lightbulb illuminating it. A notice a voice, and then I notice my hands are tied.

"What the-" I tug at the ropes.
"Not used to being confined pretty boy?" The voice said in a mocking tone.
"Why am I here?" I barked at him sternly. He laughed.
"I have some questions. All you have to do is answer them."
"Then why am I tied up?" I shot back.
"Because these aren't questions that you want to answer. And you have a tendency to turn to violence when you feel protective." He said stringing the words together well, yet still over enunciating. He didn't seem like the type to repeat himself. What the hell does he think he knows about me?
"Fine. Then ask the questions." He sat down in a chair across from me.

"How did you meet..." he pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Anne Wheeler? That's what she's going by?" I scowled a little.
"Why do you wanna know about her?"
"I'm the one asking the questions here."

I exhaled a little, trying to keep myself contained.
"I never said you weren't." I leaned back as if to signal that I was "standing down."
"I was offered a job at a circus. She worked there. That's how we met."
"Who offered you the job?" I narrowed my eyes a little. What was he planning to do with this information?

"Phineas Taylor Barnum. Goes by PT."
"What is your current relationship with Ms. Wheeler?" I was starting to get angry. What right did this guy think he had, who was he anyway?
"We live together." I shot back angrily. "Who are you anyway?"
"Who I am doesn't matter." B.S. "So she lives with you?"
"Yes." I rolled my eyes.
"So she lives in the apartment we just came from?" My eyes widened.
"What's it to you?" He smirked, ignoring my question.
"Mr. Carlyle is Ms. Wheeler, to your knowledge carrying a child?" What? Why would he ever need to know that? I haven't heard Anne mention anything about a baby.
"Not to my knowledge, no. Why?" He chuckled.
"It's very important that if she is, that I know."

My fists clenched. "Why in gods name would you ever need to know that?!"
"I'm the one asking the questions!"
"What right do you have?!" He started laughing hysterically. I watched.
"Oh foolish man. I have more rights to this woman than you. Or her brother, even her parents." What was he saying? Was he saying what I think he was saying?
"Are you..."
"I owned Anne for 6 years. I still technically own her now. If my goddamned wife hadn't let her leave!" He pounded his fists on the table. If I wasn't tied up right now the things I would do this evil man...
"I have everything I need to know so I'll be on my way. Actually, one more question Mr. Carlyle."
"What?" I said agitatedly through gritted teeth.
"Where is the precious thing now?" My eyes widened. What would he do to her?
"Times Square." I lied.
"I'll be back in an hour. If she's not there, you'll pay." He walked through the door.

I looked around. There was an air vent in the corner of the room to my left. The table was a couple feet to my right, the door was directly in front of me by about 10 feet, and the lightbulb hung above the table.

I began pulling my hands trying to free them I could feel my scarred and still burned knuckles flustering from the rope. I grunted and yelled in frustration. I closed my eyes. Think Phillip think. What would Anne do? I looked around, studying every aspect of the room like she would, trying to find something I could use to get me out.

I did a double take on one of the legs of the table. It had a splinter. I maneuvered my way over to it painfully slowly.

Once I reached it, I used to my right hand to pull on the splinter ever so slightly to lengthen it, being careful not to break it. I ran my index finger across it, testing its sharpness. When I felt blood running cold down my finger, I knew it was sharp enough.

I began sawing the rope, feeling the blood rush down my hand to my wrist. I felt myself cutting more accidentally, but nevertheless, I didn't stop for one second. After a few minutes, the rope snapped and I used my left hand to wipe the beading sweat off of my forehead.

I stood up, and walked to the door carefully, leaving a trail of blood behind. I put a hand on the doorknob, and opened it gently. There was one stairwell to my left so I walked up it.

I found myself standing in front of a sign on the corner of Broadway.

I made a run for it.
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AN: Sorry my chapters have been crap lately! I've needed these last couple chapter for a setup tho. The rest of this story will be (I hope) very interesting from here on out.

-sorry

-Erin💕