Bound To You

Chapter 7 - Nathaniel Jackson.

                                                            Chapter 7 - Nathaniel Jackson.

Nathaniel Jackson.

Young, angry and stubborn as hell. Two days had passed; two days of pure torture for him. Roman had done everything possible to harm him but Nathaniel still wouldn’t talk or give him any money.

Nathaniel Jackson.

Strong, hotheaded and confident. He didn’t care how many times Roman hit him; he didn’t care about many cuts Roman had made on his skin.

Roman had taken over completely, not letting me do anything. I was barely allowed to be in the same room as them; as Nathaniel.

The bruise on my cheek wasn’t as dark anymore; it had changed into a purple-blue color. It was even more visible now than it was before but I covered it up every morning with makeup.

The other night, Caleb hadn’t noticed anything. I was glad, and then I didn’t have to explain anything to him.

Even though I needed to talk to him about Leona, I didn’t want him to ask any questions about what was going on between Roman and me.

Roman still hadn’t muttered a word to me. A barely even noticed me. The only times he would speak to me, was when he wanted me to do something or when he ordered me around.

However, tonight I wanted to see what was going on in the basement. It was quiet; meaning neither Caleb nor Roman was there. It had been beyond awkward during dinner.

Caleb and Roman had kept whispering back and forth, clearly not wanting me to hear a word they were saying.

I tiptoed down the stairs, almost falling at times due to my fluffy socks. This time, I wasn’t wearing such revealing clothes. I was in my sweatpants and my oversized sweater. As I reached the bottom, I noticed the door was open like it was the last time I was down here.

“Go away, asshole,” I heard him say, making me freeze. I looked around, confused, to see if there were anyone behind me.

“What?” I muttered.

“What?” I heard him repeat, sounding as confused as I was.

I took the few last steps it took to get into the room.

Nathaniel was tied to the chair in the middle of the room; the chair he had been beating on for two days.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, the anger clear in his voice.

“Nothing,” I answered, fumbling with the pockets on my sweatpants. His face was swollen in several places, his lip bloody. I could tell how uncomfortable the robes on his wrists were. They were digging into his flesh.

He snickered, “where’s your boyfriend?” he asked.

“Which one?” I joked, laughing stupidly at my own joke.

He didn’t seem to get it, as he only raised an eyebrow and continued to look at me.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I continued, still fumbling with my pockets. I hadn’t moved from the spot in front of the door.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Nathaniel asked.

I nodded, “yeah. I’m telling the truth.”

He snickered once more, “you’re all a bunch of pathetic low-life losers. None of you are telling me the truth about anything, so why do you expect me to believe you?”