You Won't Feel A Thing - (The Script Fanfic)

Chapter 21

The interior was dark. Nothing of any interest was inside. My loss of faith seemed to fill the van. I mean, I didn’t exactly think I was going to be set free, but then I hadn’t – deep down – accepted that I would be shipped off somewhere to be killed. I guess my hope had shattered as soon as the doors had closed.

Was it pathetic that I had thought that Glen would save the day while we were stuck in venue that they performed in? It had begun when he promised that everything would be okay. I guess that made me pathetic to believe that promise when it was obviously never going to come true. But then who should I blame for the breaking of that promise: me for believing it or Glen for leading me to believe it? There are two sides to everything. If I had been realistic enough to believe that nothing could truly be okay, then we – I – would not be where I was, sitting in the dark, praying to a God that I didn’t believe in that everything would work out.

But what was the use? It was my own fault in the beginning. If I had just died when Dylan had wanted me to, none of this would have happened. But then, I would not have met Glen or Mark or Danny. If I hadn’t had met them though, I wouldn’t be in the back of the van with a burning pain in my chest.

The van must have turned too fast around a corner. I was thrown to the other side of the van, hitting my head off of the wall. Carefully, I sat back up. I groaned, holding my head in my hands. I checked my pockets for my phone. I found it. Nice one Dylan; can’t even remove a girl’s phone. The battery was critically low. Scanning through the numbers, I tried to decide who to call. I decided on the police. After all, that was the sensible option. I pressed the call button, to which my phone responded with:

Low battery: charge to access calls.

Just bloody brilliant. Sighing, I returned the phone to my pocket. It was not going to be much use at all.

My stomach began to burn with pain. Pulling up the hem of my top, I saw it was bleeding more now, the wound open more and the stitches not really helping. Not good. Not good at all. I let my top fall back into place, the blood seeping through the fabric. Applying pressure to the wound, I sighed, leaning back against the wall of the van. There has to be some way to escape.

Not that I was in the right shape to be trying to kick down doors, but it would have been nice to have been able to come up with a way to escape, rather than sitting helplessly in the back of a van.

I had always been called smart. At that moment, I felt far from it. How does someone who is considered 'smart' allow themselves to be filled up with a false sense of security that everything will be okay? Again, I found myself blaming me. There was just something about Glen that made it impossible to blame him. He had never wished for this. If anybody had, it would have been Danny for handing me over to the psycho.

Perhaps I was the only one who found it hard to blame Glen. Was it love?

You've known him for 8 days. I doubt it's love.

But it felt different to anything before. There had been guys in my life, but I had never felt as though I needed them to keep me strong.

The drugs have made you confused. He wouldn't love you anyway.

Sighing, I knew my ego was probably right. How could a band-member fall in love with silly old me? But I was sure that between us, there was something more than just being friendship. The kiss we had shared felt right...

You don't even know his last name, let alone much about him. It can't be love.

That was a good point. What was his last name? What was his favourite colour? Could he play other instruments? Suddenly, everything about him intrigued me, removing my mind from the current situation. It was a welcomed distraction. Was he just as good looking without his clothes on?

"I'm such a typical girl." I whispered harshly out loud, as if trying to tell myself off. Speaking out loud brought me back to the reality of the situation at hand.

I would never know the answers. I was about to be killed.

It was that realisation that brought on the tears.

After ages, I managed to get them to stop, leaving me with emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I felt regret that I had never seized the moment before, that I had never learned more about Glen during the time we had been together. I had never taken the time to truly fall in love with him, but to only ponder on the thought of love when everything had left my grasp. Why does it always make sense when it can never happen again? I held my arms tightly around my body. Glen, I just want you to be okay when-

I didn't finish the thought. There was a huge crash as something large hit the side of the van. Everything went slow as the van began spinning over, causing me to smash my head against the side. Everything went dark.