Hopeless? ~ Third Part of Loverboy.

Chapter 17. ~ Ashley.

The next morning, my body felt extremely dead—more than usual. My legs ached as if they were slowly shedding away from my body, I didn't feel my arms anymore, and I knew I had lost an abnormal amount of blood because of the injuries Dionne caused and those I already had on the wrists because of the rope. My mind was still somewhere else, I felt that my eyes weren't focused, instead, they just wandered from place to place. Sometimes death seemed better than migraine in my head.

Patrick was leaning against the window frame just watching our surroundings while he drank something. I felt my throat dry and my lips chapped. Strangely, I had ceased to be hungry and thirsty some days ago, and I questioned myself how it was that I was still alive. I didn't want to exaggerate, but I was sure I had lost a lot of weight. It's not as if none of this mattered much to me, to be honest. 

Suddenly, Patrick turned around and I decided to stare back at him. It was that or just the simple fact that I had no strength left to move my eyes. He smiled. 

I moved my hands and legs inside the ropes a little bit, they were numb, but even like that, I could move them, which only pointed to the fact that the drug was slowly getting out of my body, detoxing me. Either way, I had no intention to move. I was never going to get out of this one by myself. 

Maybe I was just going crazy, but I heard the engine of a car approaching. It was Dionne, I was used to the sound. 

Part of me knew it was wrong to feel somewhat safe when Dionne was in the cabin with us, but the truth is that I actually did. Anything or anyone that could stop Patrick for touching me again was good, even if this time it was the person who had put me in this place first. 

Dionne slammed the door as she opened it. She seemed a little altered. She had a gallon of what looked like apple juice in her hand when she came into the living room of the cabin. 

Patrick got altered too. —What happened? —He asked. 

—The're looking for her. We have to get out of here as fast as we can. 

I got to hear the words, but I had no reaction. 

I saw how Patrick's chest swelled and how he clenched his jaw. —You said that no one would ever know. 

—Who said that they are going find her? —Dionne said with a mischievous smile. She opened the gallon in her hand. 

Patrick stopped her before she verted the liquid on the floor. —Hey, remember our deal, —his grip on Dionne's arm looked pretty strong. He saw her eyes with a serious gaze and seriously—, if something does happen, no matter what, you'll never say that I was part of this. Understood? 

Dionne laughed mockingly. —Of course I won't, silly, I always keep my deals. —Patrick looked at her for a few more seconds before releasing her arm. Dionne began to pour the liquid that was inside of the bottle, and that's when the smell entered my nose. 

It was gasoline. 

All I could see before the flames began to spread was Dionne throwing a match to the nearest gasoline-damped spot. After that, the two of them went out the door before driving away at full speed. 

I couldn't do anything to react. The flames began to spread around the room and I could only see the variety of colors emanating from it, as if it were an art exhibition. Eventually, the heat wave came to me and for the first time in days, I began to sweat. 

Strangely, I felt how all these neurons in my mind began to do their job and started to get the dust off of them, fighting a battle inside of me to make me react. But I just couldn't. I couldn't.