Dynamite Touch (18+) Book 1

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A/N: Oh shieettttt, y'all! Comment your opinions. Enjoy and vote, beautiful babes! 💋

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Terror-stricken.
  Adj.
Feeling or expressing extreme fear.

I woke up with my head pounding and my stomach aching. I groaned lightly and opened my eyes, only to realize it was almost completely dark wherever I was. It's cold and I'm shivering. I sat completely up and realized I was in a bed, a very tiny and soft bed. It was pink, my old favorite color. I was dressed in my old clothes. My bright blue, silky pajama shorts and matching tank-top. I loved these, but I left them in England, why am I wearing them? Where am I?

My head felt sore so I reached up and realized my hair was braided into tight braids; like I used to wear my hair daily. I haven't braided my hair since before rehab, what's going on? Am I dreaming, is this a flashback? I sat up and swung my feet off of the bed, my bare feet instantly touched a cold, hard surface. Concrete, where the bloody hell am I?

"H-Hello?" I croaked out, my throat is dry. It feels as if I've been dehydrated for years. I'm becoming more and more panicky as I walk around the room. My eyes zeroed in on a door that looked identical to my old bedroom door in England. I felt hopeful as I raced over to it and yanked on the doorknob. Once opened, I was greeted with a brick wall. What the actual hell? I must be dreaming, this cannot be real.

"H-Help!" I dryly stuttered, stumbling away from the door, pinching myself so I would wake up. Only it wasn't a dream, it was real. This was real life and I was living it; confused, scared, thirsty, hungry, and sore. I started to cough, talking was straining my dry throat too much.

I spotted a light switch and flipped it on, brightening the room I was in. I was in a bricked-up room with concrete floors. The only thing I recognized was my former door and twin-sized bed. I frantically looked around, the room was small and there was one other door right beside the head of the bed. I jogged over to it and tried to open the metal door with multiple locks, but it was locked. Go figure.

  I pounded on the door with my weak fists, "Hello?! A-Anybody?!"

   The door unlocked multiple times from on the other side of it and I stepped back, fearful to whoever is out there. I backed up so much that my back hit the wall on the opposite wall. The door creaked open obnoxiously and I shielded my eyes from the harsh light that penetrated my room. It was a white light, proper blinding.

"Good, you're awake," A feminine voice muttered as the door shut behind her. I let my arm hang to my side as I blinked several times, still partially blinded from the light. Once my vision graced me, I noticed Valerie. She was holding a tray of food and a bottle of water.

"V-Valerie? What-... what's going on?" I asked, exasperated. She rolled her eyes at my demise and placed the tray and bottle on my bed, "Noah wanted a toy, I gave him a toy." What is she talking about? And why is Noah any of her concern?

"Noah? What are you talking about...?" I croaked out, not daring to inch any closer to her. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, "Noah is my boyfriend, wanker."

"But... we're mates...?" I whispered and she chuckled menacingly, "You left without any indication or warning beforehand and thought we were still mates? No, fuck that. Noah is mine and you knew I fancied him since that first day of school that he showed up. When I heard he ruined you I knew it was my chance to swoon him."

Valerie isn't a friend. She's hated me for a while now, how did I not see this?

"Val, I'm sorry-"

"Save it, Moore. Noah needs closure on you guys' relationship so I can have him one-hundred percent, so I'm giving it to him," she said impatiently.

"Where am I, Valerie? What's going on?" I asked boldly, glaring at her. She stood with her hands on her hips, in a body-hugging black gown paired with black high-heels.

"You're in Noah's play-house. He's been using this room when he thinks of you. Which is like, all the time. He needs closure with what happened to you so I chloroformed you outside of the club while your boyfriend was gone. You've only been gone for two days, don't worry," she explained nonchalantly as if none of this meant anything to her.

"You chloroformed me, you daft git!" I yelled, my throat screaming at me to calm down before I pop a vocal chord. She glared at me, "Watch your tone with me, chav."

"Sod off, Valerie," I said as I walked over to the bed and grabbed the water bottle, chugging it immediately. She punched me in the face and I growled lowly at her. It didn't sting very much; none at all compared to Andy's punches, yet the assault still pissed me off. I stood up and elbowed her in the face, "Don't lay your hands on me!"

  She screamed in agony as she stumbled backward, holding her blood-gushing nose. The door swung open and Noah walked in, his head held high. If I had never met Elliott, I would definitely be intimidated. Noah looked at his girlfriend with an impressed look masking his face, "Wicked."

I stumbled back onto the bed, memories of us flashing into my mind. He smirked at me as Valerie high-tailed it out of the room and slammed the door behind her, "Nice right hook."

I didn't even look him in the eye, I kept my focus on my hands. I heard him shuffling around and heard s couple of clinks. I looked up and my eyes fixated on the small pistol in his hand. Halloween night, that's the same gun. That's the same gun I tried so desperately to get him to put down. My heart almost leaped into my throat, my hands immediately became clammy and shaky. I began to sweat, despite the cold temperature in the replica room.

  He laughed at my wide-eyed expression and shook his hand, "You never did like me with a gun."

I looked into his eyes and realized he's currently high as hell. His under eyes were red and puffy, his pupils dilated and whites of his eyes were completely bloodshot. His hands were trembling, sweat beading across his forehead, his hair matted with sweat. He looks exactly like he did the night he tried to set me on fire.

"How's your back, Cammie?" He asked murderously, ominously. I choked on a sob at the mention of my back. He knew he hurt me and he's relishing in the memory whilst I'm trying so hard to forget it. Not even hypnosis therapy helped me forget the horrid memory.

"I asked you a fucking question, Cammie!" He yelled, pointing the gun at me, his finger on the trigger. I cried out in panic, "It's fine! M-my back, it's fine!" He chuckled, loving the fear he's putting in me right now.

The door opened and revealed Valerie. He pointed the gun at her and her eyes widened, "Baby, it's me, Val." He rolled his eyes and motioned for her to sit on the bed beside me. I put my hands in between my thighs, a nervous habit I tend to do in stressful situations such as these. Valerie followed his orders and sat only a few centimeters away from me.

"Cammie, baby, look at me," Noah's sick voice pleaded in front of me, but I didn't look up at him. I kept my vision focused on the floor where my feet hung only a few inches above.

"I said fucking look at me!" He yelled, shooting the floor beside the bed. A breath in my throat hitched, scared he would shoot me or Valerie. I shakily looked up to his venomously smiling face and he nodded in approval, "Why did you leave me? Why did you leave England, baby?"