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I HONESTLY HAD no clue where I was anymore

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I HONESTLY HAD no clue where I was anymore. It had been four nights since I had last seen the campus of Caldwell and each night was spent at a different motel. I hadn't showered, nor had I really slept at all. I sat on the bed, a half-empty carton of Chinese noodles at my feet. Luke sat at the end of the bed as he watched the news report blasting from the aged television box. m

"Oh come on, they could've at used a different picture." Luke complains as he gestures an angry arm towards the screen. Our pictures had been plastered all over the news since yesterday evening and it was honestly a little relieving to know that someone missed me enough to report me missing.

The report was informing viewers that I had been kidnapped by Luke and that if they see us, they should not approach as Luke is said to be extremely dangerous—a fucking understatement in my opinion. 

I wondered who had reported me missing. I wondered if it was Chase. I also wondered if he cared at all.

"They're going to find me." I mutter under my breathe, my voice dry and raspy. 

Luke glances over his shoulder at me and smiles, "Don't worry, Hayden. They won't." 

I roll my eyes and rest further back against the wooden headboard. Luke stands and grabs his keys and wallet from the table. 

"Well, now that everyone has seen your picture, we're going to have to make some changes. I'll go pick up a box of hair dye, want anything else?" Luke smiles as he slips everything into the pocket of his jeans. 

I look at him with a dead expression, "For you to go to fucking jail." 

"You're so cute." Luke chuckles before walking over to me.

 He then lifts my arms and attaches the handcuffs on my wrist to another pair that was locked onto the wooden headboard. I was glaring at him the entire time as he did this and whenever he glanced down at me, he grinned. My hands urged for the touch of a fucking machete so I could slice his lips right off. 

 Then, Luke places said lips to mine once more. He had learnt not to stick his tongue in places it doesn't belong and his lips leave mine a split second later. "I love you." 

And with that, he places a piece of duct tape on my lips, leaves the motel room and locks the door behind him. I watch his shadow stroll behind the closed-curtain windows before I begin struggling against the handcuffs. The skin around my wrist was already red and raw from previous attempts of escape. I keep pulling against them, the metal a cold contrast against my skin. 

I stay still for a while, just staring up at my wrists wrapped in silver. Then, I shimmy down the bed, lock my toes under the ledge of the foot, clench my teeth as hard as possible and yank one of my hands down towards my feet. It took a few yanks before my thumb pops, cracks, jerks and snaps and an explosion of pain goes off down my right arm like fucking fireworks at at 4th of July celebration.  

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