Darcy // h.s

31: Fight For Me

 don't forget to fan and make my day c:

  Darcy's P.O.V

 

  When I woke up, my throat ached, my limbs were sore, and I was freezing. Not conscious enough to take in my surroundings, I reached up to smack my alarm and my palm came in contact with the hard concrete floor.

  Sometimes when I was little and I would sleep over at a friends house, I'd be temporarily in a confused daze when I woke up because I'd forget where I was. This was exactly like one of those moments, only I'd never slept on a concrete ground and for some reason I was extremely panicky.

  Still confused, I sat up straight up and could immediately feel a sharp pain run up my stomach, and it felt as if it was on fire. This was something that never happened at sleepovers, and in that millisecond everything became clear again.

  Harry.

  Nathan.

  Vanessa.

  Remembering very clearly, I felt like I was going to throw up. There couldn't have been much food in my stomach because when I opened my mouth instead of getting rid of whatever was inside, I was hovering over the ground with my mouth awkwardly hanging open.

  The room was almost pitch black, but I could see small streams of light pour through the cracks in a door that was a few feet to my right. The only thing that I could remember about last night was being drug away and the heart wrenching pain of watching Harry standing there. I thought he would have fought for me.

  Knowing that he wasn't coming after me nearly drove me off the edge. There was no way that I was going to spend another two years trapped like some animal. It was weird thinking that probably a few hours ago me and Harry were happily kissing and ready to watch Mean Girls, and now I wasn't even sure that I knew him anymore because he just stood there.

  But as much as I wanted to be furious and aggravated at him, I knew that I didn't have the strength to do that. It's like Harry was my drug, and when a side effect kicked in and I wanted to stop taking it, I knew that I couldn't be without it. Knowing that he wasn't mine and that I didn't know if I could ever be with him again was too much on my heart.

  Despite the throbbing pain in my stomach, I stood up and felt the walls for any lights. It was probably really stupid of me to turn a light on, but I wanted to know what was around me- even for a few seconds. And if Nathan wants to come in here and finish me off, be my guest. It can't get any worse than this, I concluded.

  After roaming my hands all over the scratchy walls, it was obvious this tiny room didn't have a light. I was beginning to believe that I was enclosed in a closet of some sort, only I'd never heard of cement closets.

  My heart was racing a million miles per hour. As much as I tried to calm myself down and focus on something positive, it was a failure. My palms looking greasy from sweat, and I was beginning to have an anxiety attack.

  When I was first found a few months ago, a therapist that I had met with briefly said that it would be normal to feel panic attacks coming on when situations became uncomfortable. I knew that this would happen, I just didn't expect it to happen when I got kidnapped again.

  Shrinking to the ground, I wept into my hands. I tried not to full-out sob and keep quiet, because even though I wanted my death to be over with quicker, just thinking about it all actually happening horrified me. Knowing that this was the day I was going to die could be enough for me to pass out, but I was wide awake.