Him. | A Joe Jonas Fanfiction

13

As days continue to pass, I find myself angrier and angrier that my parents forced me to return home. Mad that I have to be in a place such terrible memories are held. Sure, there are the apparent memories of my childhood before I was forced into learning the family business. But anything after that is just a reminder of the life I have to have against the life I dream of having. The life I was living... without the whole scared to leave my apartment thing.

A knock pulls me away from my thoughts, turning my head towards the door that swings open.

"Your father and I are taking your siblings out, and as you know, everyone else is off for the day. We're leaving your door unlocked for you to be able to get food and such. However, the guards outside have doubled, so don't even try to leave." my mother tells me, giving me a look of warning.

I nod. "Okay."

"Be good," she whispers to me, giving me a small sympathetic look before leaving and closing my door all but a crack.

I sigh, waiting until I hear the car leave the driveway before relaxing my body and laying back on my bed.

Is it wrong that I want to watch tv right now?

I shrug to myself, getting out of bed and making my way out of the bedroom.

Carefully, in case my father has decided to set traps or something for me, yes, he would, I make my way down the stairs and to the kitchen before opening the fridge and grab some fruit before cutting it up and mixing it in a bowl. Taking it upstairs, I set my phone up with a bottle of water and open the Netflix app before starting a show and eating a few pieces of fruit.

If I have to miserable, at least let me be miserable with a show and some fruit.

After only a few moments, I hear banging outside of my window, making my brows automatically furrow.

Slowly getting out of bed, I stop my show and go over to the window, glancing out to see one of the guards lying on the ground.

Why-

"I thought you said no one would be here!" a guy yells, causing me to turn around immediately.

"Grab her," another says, walking in next to him.

"No!" I start, kicking his feet from underneath him and punching the other in the nose before running down the stairs and towards the safe room.

"I don't think so," someone says, grabbing me from behind and putting a rag over my mouth, making everything go black.

Son of a bitch.

I blink my eyes, adjusting them to the dim light.

"Ow."

The word flies out of my mouth as a hand raises to my temple.

"What the fuck happened?"

I look around, seeing four concrete walls that match the floor.

"Where am I?"

I gulp, not realizing how dry my mouth is until I do.

***

A day has passed since I awoke in this god awful room. I've been given one meal and a bottle of water, most likely to keep me breathing but not strong enough to do any damage. That's been the case in the past, anyway. No one wants to kill the daughter of a dealer due to consequences... but we're perfect leverage. Most of the time, we're used for bait to lure our dad's out so they can be killed.

Although my father, of course, always finds his way around the last part and still saves us somehow.

Us... well, I should say me. As far as I know, it's never happened to Stella... I hope not at least.

It doesn't matter anyway; it's not like my father is going to race to my rescue this time. He's too angry. And it doesn't help that I talked to him the way I did the last time we spoke. Not that I regret it, he deserved every word. I deserve to live my own life, and I stand by my decision of wanting to leave. I want to be accepted all the same.

***

Another day, another single meal. Another 24 hours full of me talking to myself about all of the things I've done wrong... including Joe.

I was beyond stupid to not tell him anything about my life. I should've known the most he would do is try to help me. I guess the only reason I didn't is that I didn't want to risk dragging him into all of this. I mean, I'm locked in an empty room, given one meal a day. I'm drowning in the regret that I didn't treat him with the same amount of care that he treated me. I mean, he helped me more than I ever expected anyone to when I ran away. He was genuinely interested in me and my well being, and all I did was push him away and lock him out. What kind of friend is that?

I'm sorry, Joe. If I get out of this... I swear I'll make it up to you.

Somehow.

***

I know it's a short chapter and I'm sorry lol 

but I love you

thank you for all the support.

much love,

shan:)