Runaway (R.S.L)

Chapter 25

This chapter will be slightly graphic, so don't read if uncomfortable. And there is only one more chapter and an epilogue left before the end of this book. I honestly can't believe it, but all books must come to an end.

I could feel droplets of sweat dribble down my face as my shoulder throbbed and pulsed. Blood continued to pour out of the wound, staining my already dirty clothes. With every passing minute, my body was getting weaker and the strength to keep my eyes open were diminishing. I no longer had the energy to fight against the restraints that bound my hands to the wall and ankles to the floor. In this moment, I was as good as dead. 

Which was going to be the case soon enough. 

Spencer paced in front of me, a sickening smirk plastered on his face. He would glance at me every so often, and that smirk would grow. I was afraid of the thoughts swirling around in his head, almost to the point where I was tempted to just end my life on my own. 

A wave of pain shot up my arm, such a strong amount that my stomach churned and bile arose in my throat. I did my best to push it back down, but couldn't and quickly turned my head, emptying my stomach on the dirty, concrete floor. 

"You're getting worse." He noted, crouching down in front of me. He pulled out a cloth from his pocket and wiped my mouth, surprising me. "You'll be dead in a matter of hours if your boyfriend doesn't save you. That would be a shame, wouldn't it? If he came too late and saw your dead body chained to the wall." He chuckled, his eyes visibly darkening. He grabbed my face, his fingers digging into my skin, causing me to whimper. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to kill you. From the moment I met you, all I wanted was you dead. And now," Jamming his finger into my gunshot wound, he twisted the appendage, eliciting a high pitch scream filled with agony to escape my mouth. "I'll finally get what I've always wanted." 

"Y-You're," I swallowed, my throat dry and draw. I was panting, sweating. Dying. "Psycho." 

"Maybe." He shrugged. "But does it look like I care? No. The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because I want to see you suffer." He leaned his face closer to mine, and I instantly smelled the alcohol radiating off his putrid body. His teeth were yellow, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were blood shot. "Do you have any idea how much I want to rip out your heart and use it like a tennis ball? Use your intestines like a jump rope? I can't fucking wait." 

He stood up and moved across the room, muttering to himself. I watched him in fear, tears welling up in my eyes before allowing them to freely roll down my cheeks. Out of all the times I had been afraid of him, my fear had never been this high. Hearing him describe what he wanted to do with my organs...I was absolutely terrified. My eyes scanned the cell-like room I was in, and I mentally prayed that there was a way out of here. A window, hole, anything to get me out of here. A silent sob escaped my mouth as my search failed. It was no use and I had to accept that. 

But how could I accept the fact that I was going to die when the guilt of leaving my family was eating me alive. Their pleas for me to come back echoed in my head, and I could practically feel my heart breaking in two. My decision to runaway was one I regretted, but there was nothing I could do to undo it. I couldn't go back in time, couldn't stop myself from basically throwing myself into this situation. This was my fault. 

All my fault. 

If there was one thing I would go back in time and do, it would be to tell Ross I loved him. I barely remembered the last time I said those three special words to him, and I absolutely hated myself for it. He was the best thing to ever happen to me, and all I did was cause him pain. I put his life and his family's in danger. I wondered what would have happened if I never met them. Would I be dead on the street? Would Spencer have found me in another state or city? Would I have killed myself and ended my agony? So many questions that would forever go unanswered.