HEARTLESS [bws]

Forty eight

im back baby!
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I've been sitting on the same bed in the same motel room for nearly two hours now, doing a little of nothing subtracting that squat and the nada giving me a total of... confusion. I hate maths. Still.
I begin twiddling my thumbs which is always a sign to start an activity of some sort. I search through my pockets and find my phone, thanking past Jane for keeping it on her while Brad practically kidnapped her. She's been kidnapped way too many times in her lifespan. I flick through some of Instagram and Wattpad, but nothing really grasps my attention like it used to. I just kind of feel... well, there's no other way to describe it, other than the informality of meh.
I put the phone down and decide to have a shower to scrub off the boredom. I walk into the ensuite- if you can call it that. I always feel like ensuites are private bathrooms included in hotel rooms, yet this one seems as though the whole population of the UK has used it. Either way, it's a bathroom, and I turn on the shower head letting the water heat up while I strip my hoodie and jeans (the same ensemble I've been wearing for a total of two weeks). I step into the shower and just stand for a while, letting the water run down my stomach, legs, any areas of skin I feel needs some attention... all areas of my skin. There's a bar of soap on the side of the shower, but no shower gel. Sighing, I pick it up and rub it on my arms. I get half way down my body, then drop the soap. It makes a load bang on the bottom of the hollow bath/shower. I don't pick it up. I don't particularly know why, I just can't bring myself to bend my legs, put my hand on my knee, struggle to pick up wet soap, stand up without falling over, then repeating the process. It's just too much. Instead, I just stare at the pearl tiles.
   A good ten minutes later I get out and wipe myself dry, getting back into my hoodie but leaving my jeans. Instead, I go back into the bedroom and pick up the bag Brad brought in. It's all boys clothes but I'm okay with that. Brad won't care what I look like, therefore, neither do I. I pick out a pair of jogging bottoms and slip them on. They're loose at the waist. I decide to change back into my jeans, even if it means more effort. As I'm about to finish blow drying my hair, I hear a rattle of keys at the door- Brad. I put the blow dryer down and dart up to see Brad standing in the door way, wide eyed. He rushes in a picks up the bag, then picks up his jogging bottoms.
"Brad?" I ask, touching his arm. He shakes his head furiously without sparing me a glance.
"We have to go." Brad says, stuffing his trousers in his bag and quickly sprinting around the room for any other of his items.
"What? Why?" I ask.
"Just put your shoes on, I'll explain on the way-"
"Fuck you, Brad!" I suddenly yell, however, I'm as shocked as Brad as my hands fling to my mouth instantly.
"Jane..." Brad murmurs. I then realise why I swore, why I'm so mad.
"No! This is so dumb! What is going on, Brad? I need to know. In fact, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on!" I say, crossing my arms. Brad sighs and turns to face me placing a hand on my shoulder. I instantly shrug it off and he flinches it away.
"Sorry," he apologises. "But Jane, I swear to you, I will explain. We don't have time." Brad says. I uncross my arms and shut my eyes for a second, trying to be solemn.
"Brad." I whisper, opening my eyes and taking his hand in mine. He avoids my gaze but I put a finger under his chin and smile. "I'll come. Just tell me why. Don't go into detail."

Brad then says the most painful thing I've had to comprehend in the last year, after my mother's death.

"Calum has Kirstie and James. He's requested a ransom. Of me."

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oh shiiiiit
so i can tell u one thing, we're semi-at-the-end-of-the-book :))
i already kinda have a plan for the next one though AHAHAHAHA itz gonna be good!
I've finished my exams now so I'll upload more regularly alsooo :)
rad.