Page 92 of When We Fall: Part Two

I had no fucking idea.

I hated it here.

I wanted to die to save Rosalie before. Now I simply wanted to die.

I had no idea whether my girl was alive or not. Whether Cole or Enzo had made it out. I assumed they did, but since no one came looking for me and E, I was beginning to have my doubts. I refrained from asking, but I was about to just kill what little bit of hope I had left as I was tied back to the metal chair in the same torture room as always.

I hated the smell in there. Like death. Like torment.

Blood stained the walls and floor. The lights were too bright, so they really illuminated the madness around me.

Heavy footsteps sounded out in the room, and I sent up a silent prayer that it was Dante and not the wordless prick that had been sent in the last few sessions.

It was worse.

Everett Church.

“Fox Evans. The man of the hour. Mr. Heisman himself,” Everett proclaimed, smiling widely at me as the door banged closed behind him.

I swallowed hard and stared up at him.

“Where’s Ethan?” I demanded, my voice rough as I tried to twist out of the bindings. A hiss of pain escaped me as my shoulder screamed in protest, but I’d tear my fucking arm off if it meant I could get E out of here.

“He’s around,” Everett said as if we were just discussing the weather. “Not giving me everything I want.” He smirked. “But he does give some things. He’s an excellent lay. Such a tight asshole. He comes like you wouldn’t believe.”

I snarled and fought harder. I would kill him. I’d kill this motherfucker.

Everett let out a booming laugh.

“You want me to stop fucking your best friend?” Everett stepped closer and gripped my face tightly. “Tell me the recipe for sugar.”

“It’s one cup of fuck you.” I spit on him.

He punched me so hard in the face that my ears rang. I spat the blood onto the dirty floor and glared at him.

He gestured behind me, and four men entered the room, Ethan between two of them.

He was beaten to shit and looked half dead. They had his arms restrained behind his back, and his shirt was missing.

“E! Ethan!” I choked out, desperate to get to him. Fighting against the bindings was useless, though.

Two more men came in, bringing some strange table contraption with them. This couldn’t be going anywhere good.

“E,” I rasped.

“F-Fox.” E’s bottom lip wobbled, his barely open eyes filled with tears.

“I-It’s OK,” I rasped. “It’s OK.”

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he stared back at me, so much fear in his green eyes, my heart broke just a little more.

One of the men pushed a needle into my vein, the burning ache of the drug searing through my body.

I could hear Ethan sobbing softly in the distance as I hung my head, so much fog filling my brain.

Fighting wasn’t an option. Not when my limbs were made of lead. My remaining clothes were taken off, and I was moved from the chair and placed on my stomach on the small table. The men wasted no time strapping me down, so I was bent over on my knees and unable to move with my ass in the air.

“Don’t. Don’t hurt him,” E wept. “Please…”