Captive To Captivated

Part 16

I really needed her right now. It felt like I was in the same situation. Stuck in a scary new place. A place where I didn't want to be. Far from home. Where I didn't know anyone. With a mean boy who kept harassing me (but in this case, two mean boys). If I stuck up for myself I'd just get myself into more trouble.

This was the part where mum was supposed to come and pick me up and take me for ice cream like she promised. This was the part where I was supposed to be in the back seat eating my favourite foods and laughing with her.

That memory was so fresh in my mind. The smell of Nutella and the sound of our playful laughter. My heart ached for my mum while my stomach ached for the food. I was suffering too much with all these different types of pains. I looked up to the ceiling and shut my eyes, "I need you mum," I whispered softly.

I wiped a tear off my bruised cheek not wanting to cry any more than I already had. The more I cried, the more I dehydrated myself.

I was keeping to my promise and hadn't touched the box of tissues since I'd kicked it into the corner yesterday. I'd just been using the non-bloodied part of my shirt to wipe my eyes. I swallowed, trying to get a grip. My throat was already dry again.

Just then, none other than Jason McClane strolled right in. My eyes landed on him before darting to the water bottle in his hand. I licked my chapped lips to moisten them, running over my cut. Jason seemed to have taken notice so I stopped at once, not comfortable with the thought of his eyes on my mouth. My mind flashed back to yesterday when I thought he was going to kiss me when he looked at my lips. I quickly pushed away the memory, not wanting the embarrassment to resurface.

He sat himself in the chair that hadn't moved from the foot of the bed since yesterday, facing me, and laughed quietly at the sight of the curtain around me. "A little desperate, Martinez?"

"I like to call it innovative, McClane. Or should I say McPain-in-my-ass." I internally cringed; not my best insult. Probably my top worst insult.

"Ooh," he scrunched up his face, "poor word play, Martini."

I ignored his nickname for me. "Are you going to give me that or what?"

He raised his eyebrow at my tone before twisting the plastic cap off. His eyes glued to mine as he, very slowly, raised his head back and took a sip. He swallowed teasingly and sighed happily, "ah," like you do from sipping a really refreshing drink. A mischievous smirk covered his features. I could do nothing but stare at the bottle in misery and wish my mum would hurry up and come get me.

He put the cap back on and taunted in fake oblivion, "this?" he gestured the bottle. "Why, are you thirsty?"

My eyes snapped away from the water and up to his cruel look. He was in a smug mood.

"What do you want?" I whispered in complete defeat; something I rarely ever do.

He didn't like me responding to his question with a question. "For you to answer me and not make me repeat myself. I thought we went through this."

His words enraged me momentarily. He wanted me to play along with his stupid games.

"Yes," I spat. "I'm thirsty... I'm parched. I'm hungry, and sore, and tired, and cold, and I want to go home! Why are you keeping me here?" my voice broke. "If it's money you guys want, you're after the wrong people. We don't have any mon−"

He scoffed irritably, "don't try to bullshit your way out of this."

I looked at him in disbelief. "You are actually a moron." I was furious with him. He had no idea about anything.

"Oh, am I now?" He pulled out his pocket knife. "No, don't stop talking," he jeered, "keep insulting me. Go on..." he swivelled the knife, gesturing me to continue.

Silence infused the room for a moment until I decided to speak again. "How much do you want?" My voice stayed aggravated yet apprehensive.

There was a pause before he answered, "five and a half..." he trailed off.

"Grand?" I asked in a panic, wondering how the hell dad would manage to pay that kind of ransom.

"Try hundred grand," he scoffed.

"WHAT?" I exclaimed in shock and my ribs throbbed from talking so loud but I didn't care. "What, do you think we're made of money? That we're some millionaires who just have that kind of cash lying around?!"

"Do you, or do you not, live in Oak Hill?"

"Well, yes, but what's that go to do−"

"And your dad owns his own shop, does he not?"

"What?" I huffed.

"Diego Mechanics?"

"I−yes, wait. How do you know all this?"

"We did our research," was all he said.

"You hopeless moron! Did you bother to fin−" I regretted my words as soon as they came out.

He pegged the bottle against the wall and headed straight for me, "I swear to God−" I jumped out of the window ledge ignoring the brutal pain in every muscle and, with my eyes glued to the knife, staggered backwards away from him hastily, "−call me a moron−" the curtain slipped off me and I stumbled a little as it caught around my feet while he followed me until I was cornered into the walls, "−one more time."

My back was pushed against the wall and I was hoping it would just suck me in and get me away from him. He narrowed his eyes to slits. A daring expression cloaked his face, turning his tawny eyes into an even darker shade.

I was sick of being the victim. I was sick of him having this control over me and making me feel weak. I was not weak. I refused to be. I stared back, heatedly now, stepping away from the wall so I was almost chest to chest with him. He towered over me even though he was only a few inches taller. I knew this wouldn't end well. Carmella, don't.

"Moron."

Smart move, Mel. Real smart.

***

Oh snap. What do you think is going to happen next?!

Sorry for leaving it on a cliffhanger but since it's another half chapter I'll be posting the next one as soon as I finish editing it.

Vote if you liked this chapter~ Will love you 5eva! (because 4eva just isn't enough)

btw, Joey is actually my spirit animal.