Savior or Prisoner (boyxboy)

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Dedicated this to SoulMated for writing such addicting werewolf stories

Chapter 11


(Alan’s POV)


    I can already feel the panic rising inside of me, the terror of being pinned down clawing against my skin, trying to break free like a ravenous beast feeding on my fear. My skin felt tight, my breath short in small gasps, sweat breaking out from my skin, throat dry, eyes unseeing. All I can see is the faces of my nightmares holding me down, grinning cruelly with ice cold eyes and painful grips.

    Alan, don’t freak, it’s only your imagination. You’re not in New York anymore, Lucas is in prison behind bars for years to come, and the stranger from the alley way doesn’t know where you are. The others from your old school don’t know where you are. You are safe here, in your hometown.

    What’s the point in trying to convince myself I’m alright when I don’t believe I’m alright? Useless and a waste of my time.

    I felt Chase’s grip loosen on my arms. I pounced at the chance. I quickly rolled as hard as I could, forcing him to let go of my wrists. Just when I was about to spring off the bed, strong arms grabbed hold of my waist and pulled me back, arms pinned once again above me, only instead of being on my back like before, I’m now on my stomach, the worst position I’ve ever been in.

    When I felt a slight pressure on my bottom, I was consumed by flashbacks of all the times I was tortured in this position: branded by Lucas with a hot poker, burned by cigarettes, carved with a knife, raped repeatedly, stomped on by people bigger and heavier than me, and other unmentionable horrible things.

    “Alan?” I felt a slight movement behind me.

    Snap.

    Blinded from the fear, I instinctively attacked, breaking free from the hold to go into a full blown fear induced frenzy. My mind was fuzzy, my eyes not seeing anything but the threat in front of me. Deep inside, I knew it was Chase I was attacking, but I couldn’t stop myself from launching at him, using what self defense Aunt Claire taught me these past few weeks.

    The wind flew out of me when I was punched, hard, in the stomach, knocking me down to my knees in a fit of coughs and pain filled tears.

    “Oh Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I hit that hard.”

    I felt arms go around my shoulders and waist, lifting me up and gently onto the bed. He left for a few minutes, then came back with an ice pack, pressing it to my stomach. I yelped from the sudden coldness on my heated stomach, relaxing when the pain began to numb.

    “I’m really sorry Alan, but I didn’t know how to stop you. I thought punching you in the stomach would stop you, and it did, but I didn’t think I would punch that hard. When I punch my teammates, they say it hurts, but not that much.” Chase crouched down on his knees, almost eye to eye. I flinched when he lifted his hand to my face, closing my eyes shut and waited for more pain, but it never came.

    I felt something warm lightly touch my cheek, brushing my hair. Curious and wary, I took a small peak. Chase stared at me in wonder and worry, a scratch mark in his left cheek bleeding. My widened in horror. How could I have done that? How could I have hurt Chase when I know he didn’t do anything wrong?

    With shaky hands, I lightly placed my fingers on his cheek, jumping when I felt an electrical spark jolt all over my body from that slight contact. I quickly pulled my hand back. I blushed when he gave me a confused look. “Umm, sorry about your cheek.” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

    Chase shrugged as if it was nothing, then smiled. “Never thought I would be owned by you. You can really fight when you need to.”

    I smiled at that. Thank you Aunt Claire and your weird obsession of martial arts comics. Yeah, you heard me. She read one Japanese comic about martial arts and became obsessed with learning. When she wasn’t at work or taking a vacation, she would be competing