Let me go

Chapter 4

I fidgeted with my bracelet, the one Sam got me from the shack near his school. I felt a sudden pang in my stomach.

Am I ever going to see my little brother again?

I was seated on the couch where the boys usually sat on to watch t.v so they could keep track of the news or just watch a football game. When I walked behind Taylor to this place, I was trying to think of wether "we can do something about it" was a bad or good thing. The anxiety was laying on my shoulders, crushing my chest and clawing my bones.

I miss you, home, I don’t feel safe here. I want to leave, want to find an escape.

He pushed me down by my shoulders and said "stay, please," before walking into the other room. Now something like 15 minutes have passed and he hasn't come back yet. What is he planning on doing?  I heard faint noises from the other room, like, I don't think we can.

No. She's not to be trusted.

She's growing sick.

I don't want to deal with a crazy person.

I looked around, the living room I predicted looked just like the ordinary American ones. Couch. Armchairs. T.V.

The windows were barred and I'm sure the door's were locked too. My eyes fell on a disposable phone lying on one of the two big armchairs. I glanced one more time at the locked door of the room and reached out to grab the phone and rush back upstairs to the room.

When I sat on the bed, I was staring at the old, scratched phone like it was the most precious thing I have ever held in my hands.

Snap out of it, Emily! I shook my head twice and dialed 911. Two rings and the call operator picked up, "this is 911 what's your emergency?" My heart raced the fastest it ever has.

They're going to catch me.

They're going to kill me.

"This is Emily Grace Daniels," I say quickly, my pulse rising. "I've been kidnapped by-" The door swung open, fast, as if in a hurry.  Before I  could get caught, I sat on the phone, Nash walked in.

"Hi," he said, looking at the room, like he's searching for something.

He hasn't seen the phone. Thank God.

"I thought you were downstairs," he said, sounding like he was trying to catch his breath.

Don't cry, don't cry, he's not going to catch you. "No, um, I got nervous and ran back upstairs, I'm sorry. Please don't-" I was cut off when Nash held my arm, tightly and urgently, as if it was his life support.

"I thought you were gone," he said, his big soft hands still holding my arm. I didn't like the feeling.

"Gone?" I asked.

"I thought you ran away," he told me, his fingers trailing the veins running through my elbow to my wrist.

I've never had them before, these veins.

"N- Nash, I'll be down in a minute. Can I please have some time alone?" I said slowly pushing his hand away. He nodded as if disappointed.

What was he expecting? I do not know. "Nash, I would never run away," I lied. "I think I like it here. A lot." I smiled at him, the smile I had to fake was most painful of all. He smirked, and my heart jumped. It literally jumped. He looked evil, deceiving.

Nash opened the door, "don't you think I believe you for a single second, Em. I'm not fucking stupid." And he walked out.

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