<don't play song yet>
day 16
rachel's pov
trapped. captured. taken. held hostage. alone. whatever you called it, i'm living it.
i woke up a few days ago and peter was gone. i thought he was dead, but i also feared much worse out of this. he could be against me now. how could she have been so blind? what if he was planning the escape to fail this whole time?
the real gun was still where peter had left it, in the wardrobe under some blankets. his dad hasn't visited me for it yet, but i wasn't going to give it away so easily.
peter left a few days ago, and he still hasn't come back. i've been praying, and even wishing on the stars i saw at night to make sure he was alive and still helping.
i couldn't stand this silence any longer. i tried to keep myself from going insane, but clearly i was crazy. i wasn't religious as a kid, but now, if there's any chance that God exists, i hope he will help me.
i missed peter.
the small window in the room was no help either. his room light was always off, the guitar missing from its hook. the house was almost empty except for the tv and lounging chair i could see inside the back door.
i laid back down on the bed, slowing crying as i drifted form my mind, missing peter more are more every second.
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day 16
3rd pov (peter)
blood stained his hands. not his blood. his dads.
it was a cold morning when his dad had dragged him away from the room, without even saying anything to rachel. he had took him back into the house, but inside the basement.
his father had cigarette burns on his shirt and alcohol breath. his voice was up close and reeked of whatever he had eaten.
he punched peter, hit him, beat him to the ground, and did everything he could for the gun. peter stood his ground, the thought of rachel in the back of his mind.
now, his dad, possibly dead laid in front of peter. what had he done? had he killed a man? he didn't have time for this. he needed to get rachel. he had to get her out.
his father hadn't moved for some time. peter was afraid of what he had done.
what he didn't know was that his father was still breathing.
what would rachel think if he killed someone? would she see him as a monster or a hero? would she ever trust him again? would he ever see her again?
there was a cheap throw away phone under the floorboard. he had to leave a message for someone to find rachel. he couldn't stand to look her in the face, the face of a killer.
"id like to report a crime on west 34 street, 6723. there's a girl being held captive. please hurry," he hadn't realized his eyes were watering and his voice quivered.
he gathered his guitar, a few sweatshirts, and his phone, leaving his father on the ground. he took his dads keys and continued on.
he knew what he had to do. he knew it, even if it would kill him.
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