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“Where are you now?” she asked.
“I’d rather not say,” I said. “Just send someone to the cabin.” I barely knew the cabin’s address, mostly because I’d pressed Ray on it. I wanted to Google it before we came. I wanted to know if it was a cabin in the woods that had plumbing or the kind that still had an outhouse.
The woman on the other line paused. “I’ve notified dispatch, but I need your location. Do you believe your boyfriend is coming after you?”
I said nothing more, hanging up the phone with a quick jerk of my hand. I looked to the old man, saying nothing as I left the gas station. If he was one of Ray’s friends, I supposed I was shit out of luck no matter what I did next. And if he wasn’t…then I just might have a chance.
I could do this. I could live through this horrible, horrific day of nightmares.
Chapter Five – Sawyer
Pain. A raging, pounding headache was what greeted me the next day. I went to grab it, a stupid bodily response that, in the end, wouldn’t help the pain threatening to explode my brain, but I did it anyway.
Or I tried to.
My wrist got caught on something hard and metal, and I couldn’t touch my head. I struggled to open my eyes, my eyelids feeling like ten thousand pounds each. They would not open. I went to move my other hand, but that also was caught on the same metal thing the other one was.
What the fuck?
Finally, my eyes opened, though they struggled to do so. I found myself in bed, my legs tangled in my sheets, with my arms held over my head…chained to the fucking bedposts. What in the fucking fuck was this?
I pulled at my wrists, desperately trying to ignore the headache shattering the insides of my skull. No matter how strongly or quickly I yanked, neither wrist would budge. These cuffs were something else, cuffs I’d never seen before. My head felt a little crusty, and I sought to remember the events of last night.
I threw a party, wanting to get my mind off the one bitch who refused to leave it. I drowned myself in alcohol, because what the hell else was I supposed to do, was too busy trying to find more booze instead of focusing on getting laid—which was so unlike me. That was the Sawyer from a year ago, and I thought I’d changed.
Maybe not. Maybe, deep down, I hadn’t changed at all. Sabrina was gone, so what was the point? After all, I still had that drawer in the kitchen…
I let out a moan, trying to remember the events that led me here, chained to my own bed, with shit in my hair. I swore, if my hair was crusted with another dude’s cum, I was going to flip. I didn’t mind the occasional threesome, but I stopped when swords were about to cross. Not my thing.
But drunk me and rational me were two very different people, two people who rarely saw eye-to-eye on things, including threesomes.
I had the vaguest memory of a girl straddling me, her lips near my ear, tickling me with her breath, but it was hard to recall that, let alone try to picture the girl’s face. I was all for a dominant chick every once in a while, but this seemed extreme. Plus, if she left me chained to my own damn bed, how the hell was I supposed to get out?
“Hello?” I called out, hoping the chick was in the bathroom, or downstairs. Something. Judging from the light flooding the window, it was early morning. Too early for a dude with a hangover to be up, but here I was: awake with a raging headache and my body an ungodly sort of uncomfortable.
I yanked at the chains again. What the fuck? This was so uncool. I couldn’t even reach for a blanket to cover my head with and block the damn light. I was stuck in this misery until someone stumbled upon me—and who knew when that would be, after my fallout with Travis. Travis was the only one who came to me when it wasn’t a party night. Now…fuck, I royally screwed myself over on this one, didn’t I?
Images of Ash flashed in my head, and I fought to push them away, but slowly my hungover mind put the pieces together. Ash had come to the party last night, after most of the partygoers had left. Ash had brought me upstairs, claiming she wanted to talk. Ash was the reason I was like this.
Fucking Ash.
I pulled at the chains around my wrists again, swearing to myself I’d get her back. I didn’t know how I’d do it, but I would. I’d get back at her, at Declan, at Travis for putting his nose in where it didn’t belong—I’d show them all, get back at every single one of them. I was the one who wanted to use Ash against Declan, and then Declan had to go and pull her to his side…and Travis had to fall in love with her.
Why the fuck didn’t things go how I wanted? Why the fuck couldn’t I ever get what I wanted? Me, Sawyer Salvatore, always the one who got stiffed. I got fucked, and not in the good way. Not in the fun way. My life was just one shitty day after another. I’d never live up to my parents’ expectations, never make Sabrina’s memory proud.
I was a fuck-up. I was the worst fuck-up in existence. I was…a mess, and I didn’t give a shit who knew it.
God, I wanted another drink.
My head rested back on the pillow, and my eyes stared at the ceiling above me. I was content to spend my whole fucking day here—that, or work on gathering my strength and busting the frame of my bed—but after a long while, I heard the front door open and slam shut. I thought about asking who it was, but a part of me didn’t even care. I just wanted off my bed, in the shower to wash away whatever was crusty in my hair, and another drink.
Hmm. Maybe I’d go for a drink first. Priorities, you know.
It was only a minute later when someone stood in the doorway to my bedroom. Through bloodshot eyes, I spotted it was the one person I didn’t think would ever show his face again in my house, mostly because I’d kicked him out.
Travis stood, smoking a cigarette even though he knew I hated it when he smoked inside my house. He wore a dark shirt, short-sleeved to reveal the tattoos lining his arms. He looked tired, though I couldn’t imagine why. There was no way his night was as filled with booze as mine was, and when you were drunk and blacked out, you never felt like you got a restful night’s sleep afterwards.
“You’ve looked better” was all Travis said, eyeing me up like I was a show in the circus, something to be gawked at and judged.
