Chapter eight: Paralyzed

Finn POV

I had no clue what had happened over the last two hours.

All I knew was that I'd screwed up, big time. I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, consumed by guilt.

What was I even thinking? I nearly hurt her. The disgust I felt toward myself was overwhelming. What I did, it wasn't me.

I was drunk, and seeing her in that sleeveless silk nightgown, it was impossible to think straight. I couldn't control myself. All I could focus on were her pouty, dark pink lips. And then I messed up, not only by kissing and groping her but by threatening her with a gun.

I was angry, though. She wanted me dead. She hated me so much that she tried to kill me in my sleep. I felt betrayed, and the need to hurt her back consumed me. I wanted revenge, and that's what pushed me to point the gun at her, but I knew I could never follow through. How could I hurt her? It was just to scare her. And, well, I succeeded.

Now, all that's left is this gnawing pit of anxiety, and self-loathing.

I'm an idiot. I wanted Cheryl to feel safe around me, but instead, I'd only made things worse. I hated myself more than ever.

She was my peace, my escape from the darkness. She had the power to heal my old wounds, but all I did was cause her more pain.

I wish I were a better person for her. I wish things were different, Cheryl.

With no one else to talk to, I dialed Liam. I had to call twice before he finally picked up, probably annoyed since it was after five in the morning..

"Hey? You okay?" His voice sounded concern.

"Yeah," I lied quickly, trying to reassure him it wasn't about my whereabouts.

I could hear his relieved sigh. "Then why call so early?" he asked, the annoyance creeping back into his voice.

"I almost forced Cheryl," My voice was flat as the words spilled out.

There was a long, heavy silence before he spoke again. "Finn, what did you do?"

"I don't know. I touched and kissed her, and then, pointed a gun at her." The shame rests heavily in my chest. I was a monster, and no matter how hard I tried to hide it from Cheryl, the truth was bound to come out. I'm rotten inside. Broken. The facade won't last forever, and soon enough, she'll see me for what I really am.

"Finn," Liam said softly. "Just talk to her."

"She probably won't listen," I swallowed hard, my throat dry with dread.

"Try," he insisted. "We'll talk more at school, okay? And don't let Steph find out." His warning was clear, and I understood his reasons.

~

Cheryl POV

I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, willing myself to survive.

Finding out you've lost both your parents at the hands of the same person who attacked you isn't exactly something that lets you sleep peacefully.

I kept replaying that Friday in my head. Declan Carter's party. The day had started off perfectly, like any other day. But somehow, it led me here.

What kind of revenge was Finn seeking? Who hurt him so badly that I was the one left carrying the blame? I did nothing. I was innocent. So why me?

Why was I enduring this pain? Why did he go so far as to take my parents from me?

Shock numbed me. An imaginary image of my mom and dad lying in a pool of blood haunted my mind. I feel emotionally orphaned and torn apart. If I'm honest with myself, I'm already dead too. All that's left is waiting for my body to catch up, for my breath to stop.

The memory of the last time I saw my mom replayed in my mind.

I had been sitting on the fifth step of the staircase, crying, when she sat beside me.

I begged her to stay, to reconsider leaving, because I was terrified of life without her. I knew I couldn't handle it. I pleaded for her forgiveness, just in case I was somehow to blame for the collapse of our family.

"Cheryl, nothing in this world goes the way we plan. We don't always get what we want. The world is a messy place, and I'm sorry," she said, kissing my hair before descending the stairs and walking out.

I had refused to believe her words. I denied the truth behind them. I hated her, even though she was hurting too. But lying there on that bed, after those monsters had dragged me back into my cage, I realized my mom was right.

The world is a messy place.

***

I heard the door creak open, but I didn't look up. I didn't care anymore. Last night had been a nightmare, and the shock was still coursing through me. My body could barely respond.

"Hey?" His voice slithered into my thoughts, making my skin crawl. The sunrise barely touched the horizon and he is back to torture me again. Alarmed, I shifted, pulling myself up into a seated position. "Cheryl?" he called again when I didn't answer and flicked on the light, flooding the room with brightness.

He didn't look hurt, despite the blows I'd dealt him last night. I almost wanted to laugh, knowing I had tried. One won't know they had power until placed in a position to fight for their life.

"Cheryl! You okay?" If I hadn't already witnessed his inhuman behavior, I might've believed the concern in his quiet, shaky voice.

The mattress sank under his weight, the comforter shifted, but I didn't bother moving or fighting back. For once, he didn't seem dangerous, and for once, I was done resisting.

"Cheryl." He sat closer, his fingers interlocked on his lap, watching my corpse-like figure as I deliberately avoided his eyes. I hated him. I hated him with every fiber of my being.

"Look at me." It wasn't a command; it was soft, almost a whisper. His hand reached to tilt my chin, but his touch startled me, and I shifted back. I guess I was still scared.

He swallowed hard, a shaky breath escaping after my reaction. The look on his face was something I'd never seen before. Vulnerability, regret, maybe even pleading, all swirling together in his glossy brown eyes. But I wasn't fooled. This was another act, another game he was playing with me.

Finn shook his head, his gaze shiny with something unexpected. "Cheryl, I kill people. I've done unspeakable things, but I've never forced anyone." His voice cracked, and I stared soullessly at him, my tear-streaked face betraying no emotion.

He swallowed again, wistfully. "I would never force you. That's not who I am—I—I..." He trailed off, his eyes falling to the duvet in frustration and anger, just as a tear dropped from his eye onto my hand.

For a fleeting moment, I was stunned. This man, this monster, was crying, he was actually taking responsibility for what he'd done. If my heart wasn't shattered, I might've thought he wasn't entirely heartless.

Never had I imagined a man like him could have feelings. Never had I thought a man like him could shed tears. His eyes were dry, they were supposed to stay that way, but here they were, wet with emotion.

He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I hate myself more than I've ever hated anything in this world. I was drunk and... I didn't mean to..." He stopped again, swallowing the words.

"I'm sorry." His voice was barely above a whisper as he looked back at me, his once-wooded brown eyes now bloodshot, a pool of regret shining in them.

This had to be a dream... right?

"Peter will check your wounds," he added, his frustrated gaze lingering on my wrists. My hands hurt, my foot—worse.

I was still trembling, and I hated that I couldn't stop. I wanted it all to go away.

Without a word, I sat there, motionless, as he walked to a closet I hadn't noticed before. He returned with a yellow long-sleeve shirt and sat beside me again. He tried to pull it over my head, but I glared at him, and surprisingly, he stopped. He left the shirt beside me without pushing further.

I ignored his presence and shakily pulled the shirt over my silk nightwear that had his blood. The early morning chill clung to my skin, but more than that, I was frozen inside. I was numb. Exhausted from the constant fight. I was dying inside, and no one saw it. No one cared.

The door creaked open, and three men entered, one wheeled in breakfast, the other two stood armed.

"Good morning, sir," one of the men greeted as they made way for the food cart.

"Call Peter," Finn ordered, his voice firm, though I could see the war in his eyes.

"Alright," the men replied in unison, retreating from the room and closing the door behind them.

Again, I was left alone with my captor. The silence in the room was suffocating, the air toxic with all the things unsaid. I hated him. I wished I'd had the courage to pull that trigger.

"I didn't kill your parents," he said quietly, and that made me look up.

I didn't react, though. I wasn't relieved. I wasn't angry. I wasn't anything. Why should I believe him? I just stared at the ruthless man who had taken me, the same man who might've destroyed my family.

If he'd told me this hours ago, maybe I would've felt something, maybe gratitude, maybe relief. But now? Now I was just... nothing. Trapped in my own trauma, unreachable. There was nothing he could say that would bring me back.

He was a liar. A deceiver. I knew it. He had held a gun to my head hours ago. He had promised to wipe out my family. Why would I believe him now? I didn't.

The door opened again, footsteps filling the room, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the brown-eyed man in front of me.

"Good morning, sir. I'll check her wounds and give you an update," came a familiar voice. It was Peter, the doctor. I recognized him immediately from the tone.

"Finn, what happened?" Another voice, sharp with authority, filled the room. It was the first time I heard someone call him by his name.

Finn exhaled slowly, breaking our stare. I knew instantly, it was his father.

Finn, who was obsessed with control and respect, didn't argue. If it had been anyone else, I was sure he would've blown their brains out by now. But he simply stood, facing the man with silent obedience. I was surprised he didn't lash out or show his usual fury.

But what kind of father condones this kind of crime?

"I should be leaving for school. I have homework to turn in," Finn said, his voice even.

That statement should have shocked me, but it didn't. I didn't care that my ruthless kidnapper went to school. I didn't care that he did homework like any other student, just like I used to before he took it away from me.

My mind was stuck at home. What had happened to my parents? How had he gotten to them? I couldn't bear to think of them dead. I couldn't.

"That's fine. I'll drive. On the way, you will explain everything," his father replied, commanding, without a hint of resistance from Finn.

The men left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Okay, let's get started," Peter said quietly, stepping toward me.