More Than This (Harry Styles) {COMPLETED}

Chapter 12: Here Comes Trouble (!!!)

I WORKED SUPER HARD ON THIS CHAPTER... NOT MY BEST WORK. ENJOY!!!

Chapter 12: Here Comes Trouble

***2 Years Later***

Emmarose's P.O.V.

Day 679 

The weather is cloudy and dreary as per usual. Carla is unusually tired and moody today. I'm cautious around her, in case she might become angry. Mr. Olson visited last night and said Carla ran out of alcohol and all the shops were closed, so she is sensitive to anything. Nothing has changed.

I need to get out of here soon. I don't know how much longer I will last in this hell of a place. I barely get one meal per day. Carla treats me like her slave. I am somehow still alive even after a year and a half of being held hostage. Mr. Olson has been paying me daily visits while Carla naps on the couch. Apparently, the F.B.I. has stopped sending out search parties to look for me since they assume that I am dead.

Last night, I was sitting by the window. It was a full moon, and the stars seemed to shine brighter and twinkle louder. It was peaceful as I basked under the radiance of the moonlight. I counted the number of scars I had under the dim light by the window. Twenty-nine. I accumulated a total of twenty-nine scars: sixteen on my back from being whipped, six on my neck form Carla's dagger, and seven on my ankles and wrists from all those times I was tied up for "misbehaving".

I need an escape plan- fast.

I was under the moonlight reading through my past journal recordings since I was having another restless night. As of today, it is day 727- three days from my two year celebration of being kidnapped. Whoopee! (note the sarcasm) Things aren't getting any better. Carla is becoming more mental ill. With each passing day, she becomes more violent and dangerous to be around.

Mr. Olson is still visiting me at least once a week, trying to perk up my spirits. He often brings me something to eat or newspaper to read to stay updated outside of my so-called cell. He would sometimes bring me new clothes or provide me with ideas and tips on how to escape and stay alive. I have asked him too many times why he can't just help me escape when Carla is asleep, but all he ever says is, "You just won't understand." What is there not to understand?! All he has to do is sneak into my room at night, sweep me away into Carla's car, and drive off. It's that simple! But I guess it wasn't that easy in his mind.

Carla is pretty violent. Most of the time when she comes into my room, she wants a) me to do something for her or b) to abuse me to release her anger. Sometimes she would become drunk and tie my wrists and ankles together to whip my back. The pain was unbearable, but recovering was far worse. I would have raw, untended flesh for weeks before it would completely heal. All that is left are scars.

On Carla's "good" days- not considerably good, but better than a majority of the time- she would grab me by my hair and drag me down the stairs. There, she would make me clean up the living space or cook a meal for her. I guess it wasn't all that bad, but her being an alcoholic, bipolar, and schizophrenic always kept me on the balls of my feet.

I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and immediately ran to cower in the corner. The door knob twisted, and the door hinges creaked as someone slowly pushed open the door. I couldn't make out the figure standing in the doorway. All I could see was the silhouette of a person under the dim lights of the background. The room was filled with an eerie silence as the person slowly approached.

Then, a flashlight flickered on and the bright light was directed towards my face. My eyes squinted, readjusting to the light. I looked up and saw Carla towering over me, but the psychopathic-killer look was not evident in her eyes, and I knew Aurora had come to pay me a visit.