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

Chapter 32

I heaved out a sigh. "Mark, just let me talk to him please?" I made my way over to the door. Mark stepped into my path, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes were dusted with slight annoyance, but I wasn't sure whether it was aimed at me.

"I can't let you do that." His voice was firm.

"Please? Mark, he doesn't know the story." My voice was thick with desperation. I hated myself for sounding so needy, but this was the last thing I wanted to happen.

"What did happen, Teghan?" Chantel had obviously come down from her fangirl high. I span to meet her eyes. She looked quite sheepish, as though she was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, by the way."  Her voice sounded heartbroken. I took this to be related to the lack of herosim from her favourite band.

"It's a long story."

"We've got time." Mark said. I turned to look into his face. He looked as though he genuinely wanted to know.

"You know what? Fine." As I blinked, the vision of Dan plunging the drug into me burned the back of my eyelids. Rubbing the heels of my palms over my eyes, I told myself to calm down. The image stirred memories of fire and unhappiness that I would rather leave untouched. "When you guys were asleep, me and Dan went looking for an exit." I felt my fingers trembling. I curled my hands into fists so my nails were digging into the skin of my palms. Stupid emotions.

"Yeah, we realised when we woke and you guys weren't there. Glen wasn't too impressed." Mark had stepped away from the door slightly. His voice wasn't angry.

"We went to the stage. Dylan spoke to us. We ran, just like any sane person would do." Now here comes the exciting part. "Dan handcuffed me to a sink and left me there."

"Why?" Mark asked instantly, his voice thick with an emotion that was hard to explain.

I shrugged slightly, not meeting his eyes. My gaze was fixed on a slight rough patch in the carpet, where the fabric was stuck up at a different angle. "He was trying to help."

"No, he fucking wasn't." Mark hissed. I jumped at the tone of his voice, turning to look at him. He was closer than I realised, his eyes watching me.

"He knew that I wouldn't stay there." Why are you protecting him? Even I couldn't answer that question. I just didn't feel capable of blaming him.

"He should have taken you with him. We all agreed that we would keep you safe." Mark's voice was heated. I turned to meet his eyes again. The dark brown colour swirled around his pupils, a lot like a hurricane.

"If I'd gone with him, Dylan would have found me a lot quicker." My voice wasn't as strong as it usually was.

"Okay, what the hell are you guys talking about?" Chantel interrupted. I had completely forgotten she was there. I turned to look at her. Her features were twisted into a look of thorough confusion.

"You know what? It doesn't matter." I span on my heel and headed towards my bedroom.

"Teghan." Mark called my name after me. "Teghan!" He shouted louder.

I stopped in my tracks, turning to look at both of them. "He then drugged me, okay? Next thing I know, I'm tied to a chair in front of Dylan, my head fuzzy." The memory of the sensation brought tears to my eyes. "He threw me in a van, taking me off to be killed." Admitting everything to someone else seemed to break the barrier I bad set up against the memories. Tears seemed to burn down my face. "It all happened because of him. I nearly died again because of him." For the first time, I had no hesitation in blaming him. It made my heart break a little further that I had believed I could trust him.

Mark was in front of me, pulling me into a hug. "It's okay." Yet it didn't seem okay. Nothing seemed okay.

"He did it to save you and Glen." I tried to hold back the tears as I spoke. "Dylan led him to believe that you and Glen were in his hands. He didn't target me; he tried to protect you guys."

He looked into my eyes. "That doesn't make it okay. He could have found another way."

I nodded slightly. "I know."

Mark let me go and I walked into my bedroom, shutting the door carefully behind me. I collapsed onto the bed, feeling emotionally drained. Wiping at my eyes with my sleeve, I heard the front door being opened. I didn't move. Dragging myself out of my room didn't appeal to me, so I remained where I was. Voices were exchanged, being heard through the thin walls. However, they were too quiet to understand what they were saying. There was a light tap on my door.

"Go away." I groaned. The door opened anyway.

"Glen's back." Chantel said, watching me from the doorway. She walked into the room, shutting the door gently behind her. "He's pissed."

"I bet this isn't how you expected to meet your favourite band." I laughed, but it was hollow.

"So he really drugged you, huh?" She perched herself on the edge of the bed. I nodded slowly. "I agree; he is a dick."

I smiled loosely at her. "Glen's going to ask me what happened." I groaned. "I don't want to say it again. It hurts."

"I'll get Mark to tell him for you." Her voice was caring for the first time in a long time. I realised then how much I liked this Chantel and why she was my best friend. I disliked the girl she pretended to be: the girl who would sleep with the first man she met on the street; the girl who acted like she never cared; the girl who pasted her face with more make-up than a drag queen.

"Thank you." I meant it. "Chantel." I muttered as she got up to leave. She turned to look and me with her eyebrows raised. "I missed this version of you."

She laughed, but it wasn't her usual laugh. "This me is here to stay." She left the room, closing the door after her.