It's All About You ⌘ Joe Sugg ✓

Chapter 44

Eila's POV

I can't quite explain the feeling of being held captive in your very own mind. It's like being held in a straightjacket which isn't actually there - you can see that your arms are free, so are your legs - but it's like they just refuse to obey your commands. The only thing I had control over was the steady rhythm of my breathing, the slow reliability of my most simple body need.

However I could hear him. Every soft, raspy muttering he made while touching me. Running his cold, clammy fingers over my skin. Placing his lips on my eyes, mouth, cheeks, chest - there was nothing I could do to fight back.

"I'm surprised your little boyfriend left you alone - a pretty little thing like yourself..." His breath reeks of too much spearmint, a strong intoxicating scent which burns my nose. I feel his hands trail up and down my thighs, his nails occaisionally digging into my skin. Each time he presses down I have the urge to yelp - but of course my mouth refuses to move and the only sound I make is a low grunt.

"The best part is you can't struggle. Even when I hurt you like this... You can't even make a noise..." This time his voice morphs into something which I could mistake for the voice of a devil. Even with my eyes half open I can tell he is grinning his sadistic smile, his knife glinting under the moonlight. When he swipes a long, deep gash into my stomach I literally scream on the inside - but of course it comes out as a barely audible moan. It is then that I realise this man wants more than just my body - he is more sick an twisted than I previously assumed, and for the first time I feel that sudden shock of a possible death. As the gash wound begins to spout blood all over my once beautiful sarong, and my legs still refuse to obey my commands, I wander if maybe this is how I'm going to die.

Maybe I am going to die here, amongst towering pine trees at the fringes of a giant festival, crowds of people less than a hundred meters away. Maybe I am going to die trapped in myself, at the mercy of his silver knife. I don't know, but I can tell I am losing an awful lot of blood. My body is still constricted by the chains of this drug, but my mind is still sharp - except as my life seeps out of me, my mind starts to become foggy.

Amongst the haze in my mind I can just about hear a hoarse screaming, followed by a continuous thumping noise. I can't move my head to look and suddenly I am too exhausted to open my eyes. It's a surreal feeling, but suddenly it feels like nothing is wrong. Everything is quiet, I can no longer hear the loud commotion going on around me. It feels like I am just at the boundary of asleep and awake, just about to tip to the other side. For the first time that night I don't mind about my inability to move - as I slip into a comforting blackness it doesn't matter anymore.

~~

Many hours later...

~~

Eila's POV

The first thing that came to me was the smell. As a person with little experience of the cold and clinical halls of a public hospital, the scent was new to me. On the surface it was clean, sterile, perfectly monitored - however amongst it I could smell the sickness.

Next came the noises - the shifting of a plastic chair on the cold floor; the squeaking of rubber soles against the linoleum; the occaisional coughing and sneezes from a patient nearby. Most of all the breathing of every human being in this building - all amassed to create one constant drone.

Finally, the pain. It came in bursts, however built up gradually and slowly. The first thing I felt was the agonising sting coming from my stomach, where my knife wound had been stitched up and smothered with antiseptic. Next came the slow ache, a constant feeling which covered every inch of my body. My limbs, my eyelids, my breathing - all of it felt far too heavy, and the ache made everything too hard to deal with. I experienced all of this pain with my eyes still clamped shut. I wasn't sure if I was ready to be awake yet, because I knew that once I opened my eyes I would have to face Joe.