Escaping Is Never Easy (BoyxMan)

Chapter seven

Yay, new chapter!

Picture of Tristan to the >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Enjoy! :)

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Zachary's P. O. V

I heard the jiggle of keys in the front door, signaling that Jason was home but didn't look up from my position on the couch. I had my knees drawn up to my chest and arms wrapped around them tightly.

I've been like this for God knows how long, ever since I read that article actually, brawling my eyes out until I could cry no longer. But I guess I must have been here for a good amount of time since Jason was home, meaning it was around five.

"Zachary?" I heard him call out but didn't bother to answer.

I don't even think I could use my voice at the moment. It was sore as hell from all my wailing and hurt every time I swallowed. I guess I should have gotten up a while ago to drink some source of liquid in an attempt to cool the burning ache but I didn't have enough strength to get up in the first place.

I felt like a broken puppet that's had all its strings cut and can no longer move, even if it was moved with a bit of help. I felt drained of all my energy, exhausted, as if I could fall asleep at any moment now, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. I was too wound up over my latest discovery to go to bed.

I sucked in a shuddering breath and further tightened my hold on my legs from the reminder. My parents thought I was dead. How fucked up is that? And how did they even come to that conclusion anyways, who gave them the evidence that indicated that I was dead?

Was it Tristan who did it, or someone else, which I highly doubt? Tristan wasn't the type to ask for help, he liked to do things by himself. But then that would mean that Tristan... was a murderer. He murdered somebody and made it seem like it was me who was killed. Then dressed the guy in my clothes and took picture of the body, even cut off a lock of my hair to add to it all, and sent it to my parents.

What a sick bastard. To think he did all that so he could get them to stop looking for me and keep me all to himself without worry. Was he that obsessed with me to go through such extensible lengths? Apparently he is.

And my poor parents. Just thinking of them made my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. How they must have felt when they saw the pictures? The pain and grief they must have gone through in knowing that their child was dead.

I wished I could tell them that I was alive and well, but I couldn't just call them again and be like, "Hey mom and dad, it's me, your son Zachary, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not actually dead. Yay. And that the real reason why I was gone for so long was because I had been kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend and taken to America to be his own personal whore! But hey, I escaped, aren't you glad?"

Yeah... I can just imagine how well that conversation would go. They probably wouldn't even believe me in the first place, or just threaten to call the cops on my ass for harassment. Doesn't reality just suck?

And no matter how much I wanted to call them without care of the consequence, I just knew that it would be better if I waited until I could hop on a plane and show them that I was alive. Then they would have to believe me.

"Zachary, are you in here?" I think I hinted a bit of panic in his tone but brushed it off as just my imagination, my mind blanking out again as I stared down at the coffee table tiredly.

From my peripheral vision I could see Jason walking around the corner that led to the living room where I sat. He spotted me and rushed over, dropping whatever he had in his hand to the floor as he reached me. He bent down in front of me, a worried frown on his face. He said something, I think it was my name, and his frowned deepened when I said nothing.