When The Stars Align | A Ben Pincus x Reader Fanfiction

32. The Long Game (Pt. 2)

I groan in pain when I first stand up. My eyesight blurries and blood rushes to my head, which pounds painfully.

Eventually, I couldn't take it and I had to sit back down on the hard and cold floor.

Night falls.

Staying out in the jungle with Ben [During the chapter of 'Brave'] really helped me to develop the instinct of knowing how to tell from night and day. I don't know how I know. I just know. Ben does too.

Thinking of Ben again makes my shoulders slump and my eyes become wistful and sad. My heart gives a pang

Somehow, it gets even colder in the room and I tighten the mint-green sweater tighter around me. The scent of vanilla hand sanitizer fills my nose again and a small, genuine smile forms on my mouth.

I begin to daydream about Ben's arms wrapping around me. I have a pretty good imagination and I can kind of picture Ben being here with me.

It doesn't really work though, and a tear leaks out of my eye again. I quickly wipe it away

No. I'm not gonna cry because I'm going to get out of here. It's useless to cry.

My weak eyes droop close and I fall asleep hugging Ben's jacket close to my chest.

•·•

My gut tells me it's morning and I awaken.

For like, an hour or two, I just lay on the floor thinking tiredly about how to get out of here, blinking every so often at the ceiling's dim light.

Okay. Enough lazing around. I need to get out of here once and for all.

Before Kash comes...

I lift up my arm to shield the light, which is strangely getting brighter and brighter. Kash is probably turning on the lights of the building, so the energy is getting stronger, affecting this one too.

I just squint my eyes shut and my arm drops heavily beside me on the floor.

Something sharp and metal collides with it and I sit up with a hiss of pain.

What was that?!

I glance at the part of my arm where it hurts and my eyes prick with tears.

A long, deep cut trickles fresh blood, staining the white ground horrifically.

When my head snaps to the side, I see a stained knife. It isn't very big, but it is pointy and sharp.

The sight scares me so much that my eyes blur and I sway dangerously from the position I'm in.

Leaning back, I carefully rest my body on the wall again. My right hand slowly and vulnerably touches my wound and I flinch at the sudden sting.

Ow.

I retract my arm and it rests painfully by my side.

I wince again, hard.

Well, at least the wound is on the left arm, which isn't really my writing hand. I use it less anyway.

Then and idea pops into my mind.

How about... I fake my death. Or something like that.

Maybe... I can make it look like a dinosaur came in and dragged me out.

But how?

I look around me, desperately trying to find ideas.

Maybe my brain is having an idea rush because I get another one.