Orphaned (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Songs for this chapter:
The Town by The Weeknd
Wash by Bon Iver

Maeve's POV

The first night was not bad, he had forgotten to bind my hands. But, unfortunately, that wasn't very helpful. The door had been locked from the outside along with the windows, pus there were medal bars guarding the delicate glass, preventing me from breaking through it.

So, through out the rest of that night, I wandered around the room, desperately trying to break out of that god for saken room. At one point I had pounded and kicked furiously at the door until my feet hurt like hell and my fists bled, screaming at the top of my lungs for the sick bastard to release me.

That didn't work, sadly. So after I had worn myself out completely, I slumped onto the ground and fell into a deep slumber, not even bothering to crawl towards the bed.

The second night was less than pleasant also. Apparently Justin decided to send someone up to tie me up once again. The man was dark skinned and I recognized him as one if the men that had held me back. He was tall and fairly muscular. He had a beanie covering his hair and wore all black clothing. I had fought against the dark skinned man, enraged and disgusted by his obedience to Justin.

After I had managed to land a harsh hit to his nose, the man slapped me across the face, causing me to bite into my tongue, drawing the unpleasant taste of flood onto my taste buds. After binding up my hands to the bed post with the rough rope, the man stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Hunger had begun to claw at my stomach, causing it to churn and gurgle. Groan after groan left my mouth as I tried to find a slightly comfortable position to sleep in, but my struggle was to no avail. With hands tied over head, I had laid awake, squirming in displeasure. This only earned me sore, burning wrists. I didn't sleep to much that night, unfortunately.

The third day was a little better. Though the hunger had grown nearly unbearably, and I felt extremely famished. My throat had become raw and sore and I felt weak due to the lake of hydration. If this kept up, I'd be dead in a day. That might be better than laying here in restraints and misery. Sadly, death did not come to me. For later into the day, an unfamiliar dark skinned boy, who looked younger than the other who had bound me, strolled into the room.

He didn't not resemble any of the other boys I had seen. This one was small, maybe five seven, skinny figure. His eyes were a dark, chocolaty brown, shadowed by long, inky black eye lashes. He looked young, untainted by the others he was supposedly living with. He wore a plain white shirt and sweat pants that sagged only slightly, revealing the hem of his boxers, unlike Justin whose pants might as well have been around his knees.

A look of sympathy had over come the boy's soft features as his eyes examined my state. It wasn't until he was standing a few feet away from me that I noticed the glass of water held in his left hand. He had ever so kindly offered me some, which I eagerly accepted. The boy gently smiled as he carefully placed the rim of the cup to my chapped, cracked lips, tilting it forwards ever so slowly.

The glass was empty in a matter of seconds.

I had thanked him genuinely, and he had bowed his head slightly and lightly placed a large, soft hand on my shoulder. He had asked me for my name, which I hesitantly gave him. The boy said his name was Dante, and that he wasn't going to hurt me. I believed him. For a while, we talked. He had reassured me that everything would be alright and that I wouldn't be herd forever.

To my dismay, Dante was forced from the room by yet another unfamiliar man, this one with white skin, nearly a peach color. Dante had shot me a small, sad smile before disappearing around the corner.

The fourth day was terrible.

The hunger had been slightly subdued by the drink the day before, but had returned, full force. It had grown to the point of pain that clawed and gnawed at ever inch of my abdomen. Whimpered had flooded from my lips as I hopelessly wriggled around, pulling my knees up to my chest.

That day was also spent alone. Dante didn't visit, sadly. He had been the only person ever to actually engage in a proper conversation with me. He treated me like a good friend, giving me a needed drink of that cooling liquid, even though he knew nothing about me; probably other than the fact that I was abducted by that Justin dude and put into dark room at the far end of a large house.

And at his absence, I had grown upset. Which is rather odd for me. I don't often get upset in this way. Maybe frustrated or angry, but not the sad type of upset. I didn't like the feeling very much.

That night was far less than uncomfortable. My wrists were now searing, probably bruising as the ropes roughly scraped and rubbed against my sensitive skin. Sleep only enveloped me for a short period of time, for when I awoke, I was still extremely tired and weak.

The fifth day, well the fifth day, was pure hell to say the least.

Every inch of my body ached from the lack of movement. My legs arms and hands felt as if they were being pricked with pins and needle, and also felt quite stiff. The tingling feeling only grew worse as I moved them, even in the slightly. My arms felt completely and utterly numb, barely laying against the pillow. Whimpers and groans of discontent rumbled in my chest furiously.

The hungers grumbles of my stomach had been silenced and converted into an aching pain. But my thirst could not be quenched. I had been licking my lips ever five seconds due to the unpleasant dryness of them, even though my tongue was not very moist either, it was a force of habit.

I felt disgusting. The feeling of grease in my hair maybe me incredibly squirmy. And my face, my face felt sticky, damp, and sweaty. I constantly wiped it on my arms, feeling the salty grease that lay on my flesh. Repulsive.

Oh, and if you were wondering how I went to the bathroom... I didn't. I somehow managed to hold it, although it sometimes got to the point were my legs would shake and I would rolled around desperately, trying to get rid of the need to pee or take a number two. Groans would flop from my lips as I bucked my hips around wildly, squeezing my thighs together while crossing my legs. I often brought my knees up to my chest and just held then there, quivering slightly.

If was extremely unpleasant.

I had also felt a sickness begin to creep over me. Predictably from dehydration or lack of 'emptying out'. I began to through up a few hours into the day trying my best to aim for the ground. Somehow, I managed to wriggle onto my stomach which made it a whole lot easier to lean my head over the side of my bed and puke my guts out for what felt like the rest of the day. Tears stung my eyes, pouring down my flushed, hot face as I could only maintain control of where I put my head.

The way my stomach clenched caused me to relax my lower body clench tightly then relax, which led to a dampened bed, to say the least. The stench of vomit pulled out a new round of tears. It was all stomach acid, probably because I hadn't eaten a bite in five fucking days. A searing pain scraped and clawed at my throat fiercely as I gasped for breath desperately.

By night fall, I was positive I was ill. My body shivered, but I felt excruciatingly hot. I felt weak, very tired, but sleep refused to swallow me up. All I could do way lay, cheek pressed against the pillow, body laying in a pool of moistness, an unbearable stench lingering in the room.

Then something odd happened. Maybe I was only hallucinating, but I thought I saw the door open, causing a bright beam of light to pour into the room. Their was a figure standing at the door. I think. And then, their was a sharp gasp. It sounded as if a male had made the sound. Was Dante back? Hopefully. But I couldn't even manage to twitch my lips upwards.

Then they were striding towards me. The last thing I saw were eyes. To bright, sad, regret filled caramel brown eyes.