heaven ☆ mick mars

44.

what the fuck. what the fuck. what the everloving fuck.

the video faded back to the news reporter.

i looked down at my lap, my vision completely blurred. i let out a shaky sigh. relieved, angry, terrified, all at the same time.

what if i die in here? what if this is how the story ends?

i escaped hell, found heaven, then dragged to the pits of fiery hell once again - to rot.

it can't end this way.

"-if you have any information on the whereabouts of lillian feranna or the whereabouts of john ramsey and dianna feranna, please call the number displayed on the screen as follows.."

he continued to read the number and all of a sudden, i somehow had the comprehension to find something to write the number down on.

i scrambled to my feet, the rush of adrenaline masking the pain.

i need something to write down this fucking phone number.

scanning the room, i see small pebbles scattered along the edges of the concrete room. i dashed over at full speed, and listened as he read out the number, holding up one of the small pebbles to the grey wall before me.

55..

the door swings open, smashing against the adjacent wall as it does. the sound startled me, i dropped the pebble.

him.

he looks at the tv, then me, then the wall. as he joins the dots, my stomach churns with dread.

with a look of rage, he heads over to the tv and kicked it off the table it sat on.

"no!-" i cried out in the milliseconds before it hit the ground, the screen smashing and distorting. "ASSHOLE!!" i sank against the wall, my head in my hands.

"how the fuck did you expect to call them, you stupid bitch?"

i didn't respond. not with words anyway.

instead, i screamed out in fury, my entire body aching. i didn't recognise the sounds coming out of me, they were animalistic.

i wanted to go home. i was pissed at mick, conflicted, but it all started to make sense. all i wanted was to see him again.

i expected a slap. a kick. some form of physical violence.

instead, john approached me calmly. he crouched down to my defenceless, vulnerable self.

my skin crawled as he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.

he looked at me in a way that repulsed me to the core.

"you know what you need?"

john had never spoken to me in such a soft manner, i didn't know how to react with my face, let alone with words.

i simply sat in silence, tears still streaming down my face. i don't think i even wanted to hear him answer his rhetorical question.

my eyes followed his hand, which reached into his pocket. he revealed another needle.

"this will help you feel calm, baby. and we'll give you a shower. your hair is disgusting and you smell rancid."

no shit, asshole.

i could go into the details of what happened, but i'll keep it brief.

he drugged me once more, with no complaints from me. i didn't even try to fight it. i wanted it.

i needed it.

it numbed my pain, physically and mentally. it stopped the chaos of thoughts inside my head. it prevented an avalanche of emotion from crushing me.

the shower included him roughly waterboarding me. what he thought it would achieve when i'm still in the same disgusting clothes, i don't know.

he then left me alone.

where the hell is this place. how have john and my bitch of a mother not been found yet?

knowing the extremes they'd go to, we're probably in switzerland, buried away in the mountains, never to be found.

as i try to fight the lure of sleep, i ponder one dreaded question.

will i ever see the light of day again?

...

but i cant think like that. not now. not when there's hope.

dewy is alive. he gave the police information. so did richie! and mick...everything he did was to protect me.

they have no idea where i am. they don't know if i'm alive. those assholes better not stop searching.

but somehow, i feel like the only person who is going to get me out of this is my mother. maybe i can sway her somehow.

weirdly, i feel a newfound sense of determination.

there are people searching for me. those monsters are done for if i'm found. then they're the ones who won't see the light of day.

i have to keep fighting.

as i accept that i will succumb to sleep soon enough, i take one last took at the broken tv.

i will find another way to get out of here.