Finding Phoenix ✔️

Chapter Three

"...Please, just let me go home."

He just stared at me blankly.

“No.”

“I don’t need your permission,” I said wiping away the tear and walking back towards the front door.

“Take one more step, I dare you.” he called after me.

I laughed, turning around so I was walking backwards. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you know I very rarely refuse a dare, no matter how crazy,” I turned back around and kept walking.

When I heard no steps behind me, I smiled in prematurely in victory. All of a sudden, my right arm was grabbed and I was swung away from the door, straight into the wall on the other side of him. My back hit first, knocking the air out of my lungs, and my head followed suit milliseconds later, blurring my vision.

‘How did I not hear him and his big ‘ol loud footsteps sneak up on me?’  I wondered as I tried to refocus my vision.

“So it’s going to be like that, huh? Fine, have it your way.”

He grabbed my arm once again and dragged me towards the dining room.

Him dragging made me fall when I made no attempt to follow him. My arm slipped out of his grasp as I hit the ground. Thinking I was trying to get away from him, he whipped around angrily and kicked me in the stomach. I could feel my ribs crack when he kicked me a second time and I whimpered, not wanting to show weakness.

“Fighting will only make it worse,” he said now dragging me by my leg from my current location to the dining room. 

I didn’t try to defend myself. I couldn’t have even if I wanted too, I was paralyzed by fear and pain.

When he was apparently satisfied with the amount of distance from the front door he had created, he tossed me onto one of the chairs at the table where we usually ate our meals together.

“Do. Not. Move. Clear?” It may have been phrased as a question, but it was a demand nonetheless. 

I nodded, not knowing if I should, or even could, speak. When his eyes darkened again, I realized he wanted a verbal answer.

“C-crystal,” I stammered, old habits from grade school showing themselves in my behavior.

He walked away calmly like nothing was wrong. When he returned, he had the roll of gorilla duct tape I keep in my craft kit in his hands. He came towards me, crouched down in front of me and taped my legs to those of the chair. When he decided they were rendered immobile enough, he moved onto my hands, taping my wrists together behind my back, as the chair had no arms. I thought about calling for help, only to realise his parents were not even home. I hadn’t seen them since the day before he choked me the first time. 

“They’re not here, princess,” he said with a smirk, as if he could read my thoughts, “they’re in London as we, well I, speak.” 

With that said, he taped my mouth shut. I stifled a cry as I realised I was alone in my current situation. No one would hear me, especially not now that my mouth was practically glued shut.

“I gave you the opportunity to go out, and you completely abused it. You came home late and tried to leave me, after I’ve told you repeatedly, you may not. You shouldn’t have done that, you’ve made things a lot harder for you,” he said shaking his head. “I guess I should have made myself more clear.”

Then, he punched me. Hard, and square in the face. I cried out in pain when I felt my nose crack, but the sound was muffled by the tape. Ignoring the sounds of pain I was making, he hit me again. This time, in the cheek. Again and again he hit me, slapping me every once in awhile saying how if I try to leave him, he’d destroy me and everyone around me. When he finally stopped, my face was throbbing and I could feel it swelling. I could feel my nose bleeding, and I knew from past experiences it was broken. I’m pretty sure he fractured my cheek, too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he laughed, “scratch that, I’ll see you later today. I’m going to bed. I’ll come get you when I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

He raised his hand and I flinched, expecting him to hit me again. He didn’t though, all he did was laugh and run his hand through his hair. As he brought his hand back down to his side, I caught a glimpse of his split, blood covered knuckles and cringed. If his hands looked like that, I didn’t even want to think about what I looked like.

“Night,” he said as he turned around and walked away.

I couldn’t believe he just left me here and walked away like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just beaten the crap out of me. Like I wasn’t taped to a chair with fractured, and possibly broken bones. For a few minutes I just sat there, not that there was really anything else for me to do. I mean, I could’ve struggled, tried to to escape my restraints; but the tape was too strong and I was too weak, all efforts would be futile.

Then, it hit me, and I smiled deviously. I don’t carry a purse, and that day I didn’t use my backpack. Choosing, rather, to keep all my belongings in the pockets of my jeans and hoodie. My knife, my way out; I still had it. Fighting the pain and exhaustion, I raised my hands from behind my back and reached into my back pocket through the gap between the back and seat of the chair I was attached to. I found it and fished it out of my pocket trying not to jostle the unknown amount of empty mint wrappers in my pocket, trying not to make any noise, to not alert him that I was making an attempt to escape. I didn’t know where he was, or if he was in hearing range so I had to be extra cautious. I got it out and snapped it open. I held it upside down and flicked my wrists in a motion to slice the tape. My smile widened when I heard the satisfying rip of the tape. It quickly disappeared when I realised he may of heard it too. I quickly brought my hands to my lap and ripped the rest of the tape off my wrists and went to bend over. I stifled another cry of pain when my ribs protested being moved, grateful for the tape muffling my voice. With one arm, I held my midsection and bent over again, cutting and peeling the tape off of my legs. I decided to keep the piece on my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself not to make any noise, and I couldn’t risk being caught. I slipped my knife back into my pocket, wrapped both arms around my ribs and forced myself to stand, ignoring the pain and focusing only on my safety. I made my way to the spare bedroom here on the first floor where I slept when I was too lazy to go upstairs. A whole box of pizza will do that to you. Anyway, I kept clothes in there, and I was in desperate need of a fresh sweatshirt. I grabbed my favorite one, baby groot in a stitch costume hugging stitch in a baby groot costume. Not only did it have the cutest characters in history on it, but it was oversized and extremely comfortable. My go-to hoodie for when I’m sad or can’t sleep. I didn’t know what else to do so I called Dallas, ripping the tape from my mouth and cringing in pain a little as the phone rang.

“D-Dallas,” I whispered when he answered.

“Phoe, what’s wrong?” I smiled a little, my twin brother knows me so well.

“Hey Dal, can you please come get me, I-I want to come home?”

“Phoe wha-,” he started, but I cut him off.

“Dallas, please. Just come get me,” I whispered frantically.

“Yo Dallas, is that Phoe- hey, man, what’s wrong?” I heard Blade say from the other side of the line.

“Dallas, listen to me,” I said, suddenly dead serious, “if you ever want to see me alive again you will come pick me up at the park around the block from here, and you’ll take me home.” with that said, I hung up and shoved my phone back into my pocket, wiping away the tears that escaped from thinking I would never see the people I love most again if I don’t get out of here now. 

(1482 words)