Down The Train Tracks. ~Ch.13 ["She's mine, Johnson."]

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I woke up to Jason shaking me. My eyes opened, blinking a few times before focus came back, and I noticed Jason had a very worried expression on his face.

“Melody, you have to get up,” he whispered, panicked.

“Why, what-what time is it?”

“Noon. We fell asleep on the sofa by mistake, we weren’t meant to fall asleep. You have to get up now, and run to your room. You hear me? Your room, not mine, you can sleep there if you like. Just not here, okay? Go.”

“Jason, wh-”

“Go, now!” He shouted.

I jumped up, running up the stairs to the prison cell room. I scrambled my brain trying to find a reason as to why Jason was acting the way he was, and why I had to be in this room. I fell down on the bed, well, mattress. I’d hardly call it a bed.

I groaned. My tired brain is too lazy to think. That’s when my eyes widened. Johnson! He was coming today, I heard noises downstairs. Oh no... Oh God, no. The already cold room now felt like a freezer. I shivered.

Getting on my feet once again, I quietly walked over to the barred window. I pulled myself up with the metal bars, and could see two cars in front of the house.

Jason’s and his.

I gulped, backing away slowly and sitting down on the mattress. I lay down, my back facing the door, my eyes on the only light in the room coming from the window. The room began to spin, my thoughts a blur, a mess.

The only way I could describe it, is when you have a lot of thread, each string representing one of my thoughts, and they’ve all been muffled together in a big knot, and they’re so tangled together that you can’t even pull one free from the bunch.

I sure did look the part Jason wanted me to play today; my hair hasn’t been brushed in a while for preparation for today, my clothes ripped –that was from Jason’s doing before I got here– my face has a few healing bruises, but they were bad enough to think they were fresh.

Once again, I found myself frozen. Except this time, the second ice cube wasn’t Jason; it was the lumpy mattress underneath me. I heard his voice. His voice. Filled with malice, it sent a shiver to my spine. The very thought of the mysterious man made my teeth chatter. I didn’t know him, I didn’t want to know him, but when I thought about him, after everything Jason told me, anger coursed through me. Everything he’s done, everything he’ll continue to do.

I was lucky; my kidnapper isn’t exactly a ‘kidnapper’. Jason’s not out to hurt me, although I thought differently those first five days. But that was it, it was only five days, it only took five days for Jason to show who he really was.

Who he really was, was a fun loving, kind, and sweet boy seeking care and understanding. All he needed was a friend; he had been lonely all his life. What a scary world to be lonely in, especially at such a young age. A friend; something I don’t think he’s ever had before.

I heard them both laugh down stairs. Jason and him. Him and Jason. It shook me. I didn’t like to imagine the two laughing together, and here I am hearing it with my own two ears. What could they possibly be laughing at? Jason must be one hell of an actor, because he hates the man more than I do.

I can hardly contain my anger of him just being here, and Jason’s laughing with him. It’s disturbing to think that Johnson’s the closest thing Jason has to a father, to family. I should hate Jason just as much as I hate Johnson, but I don’t. I’ve grown quite fond of Jason, actually.

Not just in a fond friend kind of way either. No, more than that, definitely more than that. There was four years between us, but that didn’t seem to bother either of us. Four years isn’t even that much of a difference, right? I mean, there are girls a little bit older than me with forty year old men, there are girls my age with guys almost thirty. So, no, I wouldn’t say four years is a big deal. Of course, the only reason people would find four years a big deal, is because he’s nineteen and I’m fifteen; it’s not legal. Although, I’m not one to usually abide by the law, obviously Jason isn’t either.

Down The Train Tracks *Jason McCann*Where stories live. Discover now