Mitch POV
I quickly got up and crossed back over to the corner I'd been sitting in. I didn't want Trevor to see us together because I knew it would make him more angry. He appeared in the doorway of the room we were in, his face terrifying. I swallowed loudly, this wouldn't be good.
"Mitch." He said loudly.
My body shook more as I scrambled to my feet and slowly walked toward him.
"Y-yes?" I asked quietly.
And then his hand came down hard across my face, nearly causing me to lose my balance and fall, but I steadied myself before that happened.
"What the hell?!" Scott yelled. I could hear the creaking of the chair as he pulled uselessly against his restraint.
I looked back at him quickly, assuring him that I was fine. The stinging in my cheek didn't last too long and I turned back to face my tormentor.
"Come with me." Trevor said sternly, grabbing my arm and hauling me away.
Scott screamed at him as we left, but to no avail. His yelling didn't even seem to phase Trevor. I didn't say a word as he took me back upstairs, and then I realized where we were heading. His bedroom.
Scott POV
Tear stains covered my face as I waited endlessly for Mitch to come back. It had been much too long since they'd left, and I'm pretty sure I'd heard Mitch scream even louder than my own incessant yelling. I'd stopped trying to break the restraint that tethered me to the chair once my wrist had begun to bruise. I'd never felt so helpless in my life.
Just as the anxiety was threatening to make me go mad, I heard the door at the top of the stairs open. Two sets of footsteps came down the stairs slowly. And then the door to the room I was in opened, and Mitch stumbled in, his eyes lifeless and his face covered in tears. His hands were no longer tied behind him, instead hanging loosely at his sides. The door slammed behind him, loud enough to make me jump, but he didn't even flinch.
"Mitch?" I asked softly, unsure of what he had just gone through.
He didn't say a word. He didn't even look at me. He slowly made his way over to the corner opposite me and crumpled to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest. He rested his head on them, and I thought he was about to cry, but to my surprise, he was completely silent.
"Mitch, talk to me," I begged.
No response.
"What just happened? Did he hurt you?"
That's when I noticed he was wearing a different shirt, a black long-sleeved one as opposed to the gray one he'd had on earlier.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For what?" I asked, trying to get him to speak to me.
He uncurled slightly and lifted up his shirt. On his side was a huge gash that was covered in dried and fresh blood.
I panicked. "Holy shit! Tell him he needs to take you to a fucking hospital!" I screamed. It looked like he'd been stabbed.
Mitch coughed and then winced in pain. "He won't. He left to get something to bandage it up," his voice sounded incredibly weak, "but I'm not sure I'll last that long. I've already lost a lot of blood."
"No!" I screamed. "Take your shirt off and ball it up, then put it over the wound and apply pressure. It'll help to slow the bleeding while I figure a way out of this place!"
"Scott," he whispered, coughing again, "It hurts."
"I know, baby," I said, the pain in his voice causing mine to break. "Just please, do what I said. We'll get out of here, I promise."
