The Worst Choice

This chapter contains violence that can possibly be uncomfortable for/trigger some people. If it does, I need you to stop reading and just wait for the next chapter, or be done with the story completely. You won’t miss anything important.



“You know, I always gave you credit,” Nash’s dad began, resting his hand on the back on my chair as he talked to Nash. I froze, unsure of what he was going to do. “For a dumb kid, you’ve always been pretty smart. Keeping your mouth shut, sending Eric away to who knows, as if that’d really keep him safe.” My stomach clenched. There’s no way he’d find Eric… right? “But bringing your little girlfriend around…” He paused. “She’s cute, I’ll give you that.” He ran a finger down my cheek and I leaned away from it as much as my restraints would let me.

“Get your fucking hand off her,” Nash growled at his father, who only looked amused at his son’s response.

He laughed. “You shouldn’t have left and ran off your mouth,” he told Nash, walking over to his table of… tools. “Now you haven’t only fucked yourself, but you’re bringing someone down with you. More fun for me, eh?” I finally started to piece everything together. He has no intention of letting Nash or me go. I’m here to cause more pain to Nash before his dad ends everything for him and the best way to do that is to end my life first. Nash knows that. His insisting that I was here to keep him in place was wrong and he was only trying to convince himself that. My breath hitched in my throat and apparently it was loud enough because both of their heads shot toward me, Nash’s gaze angry while his dad’s was more positive. “That got a response out of you. Good,” he said with a smirk. “Well I don’t got all day. What should we start with?”

I watched him look over the weapons on the table, terrified. I didn’t know who he was going to start with but all I knew was that I wouldn’t be able to take him hurting Nash. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? Nash was out of his hair and he didn’t have to bother with him yet he goes out and searches for him, just to kill him? It didn’t make sense and it was disgusting. “Why are you doing this?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I immediately regretted it when Nash’s dad turned to me, a twinkle in his eye.

“Don’t talk to him,” Nash demanded in a low, serious voice.

“You remind me of his mother,” Nash’s dad said, walking toward me with a box cutter in his hand. I looked away, not being able to look at him any longer. I looked at Nash, who was staring at his dad with such hatred in his eyes that I had no doubt that, if he were able to, he’d take his dad’s life right now. I wasn’t sure exactly how much that scared me. “She was hardheaded, didn’t know how to listen to a damn thing. Was stupid, too.” I glanced at him to find him now staring at Nash, slowly taking steps toward him before taking one last long step, standing right in front of him. “Maybe you all can be acquainted with each other.” Before anything else could happen, he’d let the blade of the box cutter out and, in a blink of an eye, shoved it into Nash’s lower stomach. I gasped, watching in horror as Nash stayed quiet and mostly motionless as his dad twisted the blade around and shoved it as far as it’d go. The blade wasn’t long enough to major damage quickly but it was enough to hurt Nash.

Tears burned my eyes against my will and I was biting my tongue so hard I could start to taste blood. Don’t say anything, I kept telling myself. It will only make things worse. “Stayin' quiet, huh?” His dad said, pulling the box cutter away. I felt lightheaded as I watched the blood seep through Nash’s shirt. “I’m going to make you scream, boy, until you take your last breath.” Taking determined steps back to the table, he dropped the box cutter. I stared at Nash’s face, needing him to do something or say something but all he did was stare at the ground. His dad finally came into my line of vision, standing behind Nash as he held a spoon in one hand, a match burning it with the other. He dropped the burnt match one it went out and quickly grabbed Nash’s hair, yanking his head back before pressing the burnt end of the spoon to the side of his neck, which caused a small sound to emit from Nash’s throat but that’s it. When he pulled the spoon away, the burn mark was darker than I thought. He must’ve heated it up some over by the table. “Still don’t want to do anything? Alright,” he said, throwing his fist at Nash’s face. I could hear him growing frustrated by Nash’s silence. He stomped away from Nash, passing the table and walking through the basement door, slamming the door behind him.

“Please tell me you’re okay,” I begged as soon as I no longer heard footsteps above my head. I knew it was silly – he had been burned and stabbed, for God’s sake – but I needed reassurance. He needed to be okay. I couldn’t lose him.

He didn’t look up from the floor as he spoke. “I’m fine, s’nothing new,” Nash muttered but I could hear the pain in his voice. I couldn’t even imagine how much it hurt for him to stay quiet throughout his dad’s torture. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

I tried pulling my hands apart, trying to get the tape to break. “We need to get out of here, Nash. He isn’t going to stop until you’re dead and I won’t have that happen,” I insisted, now moving my feet in attempt to free them.

“Stop moving, it isn’t going to work,” he told me, finally looking at me. His face was full of pain and guilt, not to mention the blood now flowing freely from him nose. “You need to be quiet, Ashlyn. I think he’s on something right now and that always makes him for bloodthirsty. If you’re completely silent he might just forget that you’re there and pass out or something. If that happens, you need to get out of here as soon as he’s out.”

Tears started forming in my eyes once again and I didn’t bother trying to stop them from falling. “Don’t talk like that,” I ordered. “We need to get out as soon as he’s out.”

The door at the top of the stairs opened and his heavy footsteps came down the stairs. “I want you to know that I love you and you can’t begin to understand how sorry I am,” he whispered quickly, staring at the door. I didn’t like it. It sounded like a goodbye and this was not a goodbye.

The door flew open and my head shot to his dad, who was standing there with a staple gun in his hand. My eyes widened. He was going to use a staple gun on Nash?! “Let’s see how you take this,” his dad said, looking at Nash before his eyes fell on me. He slowly walked in Nash’s direction, stopping once he was in front of me. He gave Nash a smirk before turning his heel to me and walking toward me. I gulped, my eyes widening even more. He wasn’t going to use the staple gun on Nash; he was going to use it on me.

“You son of a bitch,” Nash shot when he realized what was going on. “Get away from her!” His dad ignored him, stopping when he was standing only a few inches in front of me. I heard Nash frantically moving around as much as possible but I couldn’t break my gaze from the staple gun in his hand, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t even bring myself to blink. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

His dad gave me a sick grin before stepping behind me. My heart started beating faster and my breathing was coming in short huffs. Suddenly his dad grabbed my arm, twisting it uncomfortably before pressing the stapler to the skin on the inside of my forearm and wasting no time to press the button, injecting the first staple. I couldn’t help but let out a scream. I wasn’t used to the pain; I wasn’t as strong as Nash was, no matter how hard I was trying to be for him. I knew by screaming I was only hurting Nash and helping his dad but I couldn’t keep quiet, especially when he moved up on a few centimeters to inject the second one.

“Stop!” Nash yelled, as if it physically hurt him to watch his dad do this. My tears wouldn’t stop flowing now. “Kill me, if you want me dead so bad. Hurt me in any way you want. Just stop! I’ll do anything!” His dad now had the stapler at my wrist, ready to press the button for what seemed like the hundredth time when he paused. “Just… stop hurting her.”

The metal was taken away from my skin, my arm throbbing and bleeding. I heard the stapler drop to the ground behind me. “You’ll do anything?” his dad asked.

Nash glanced at me before looking above my shoulder, where his dad must be. “Yes,” he responded. “You have to let her go, though.”

“You see, I’d think about it but I ain’t going to jail,” his dad said. “And there’s no way this bitch will keep her mouth shut as good as you do.”

His jaw clenched at his dad calling me a bitch but he didn’t acknowledge it. It was quiet for what felt like ages before Nash spoke. “I’ll do it myself,” he blurted, causing me to stop focusing on my pain and look at him.

“No,” I argued, not caring if I got yelled at or hit for talking.

Nash’s dad grabbed my hair, yanking. I let out a gasp but it was nothing compared to the pain of my arm or the thought of watching Nash take his own life. “Where’s the fun in that?” his dad inquired. “And to do that, I gotta let your hands free and I ain’t having you escape neither.”

“As long as I know Ashlyn will be fine, I’ll do it without any problem,” Nash assured him. “I wouldn’t be able to get her free in time and I’m not going anywhere without her,” he tried to convince his dad. “It’ll keep you out of jail, too. It doesn’t matter what Ashlyn says, it’ll be suicide. How would it look if both your wife and son were murdered? They’ll go straight for you.”

I couldn’t see his dad’s face but as his grip loosened on my hair, I knew he was not only considering it but leaning toward it. I couldn’t believe it. He actually thought that his dad would let me go? “Okay,” his dad agreed. He let my hair go completely and walked out from behind me. He scrutinized Nash for a few moments. “I sure hope you know how to cut straight.” He turned and went to table.

Oh my God, he was going to make Nash cut himself until he bleeds to death. “You can’t do this,” I hissed to Nash. “You don’t have to do this.”

Nash looked at me, his eyes empty. “I do,” he insisted, apparently not caring if his dad heard or not. “Don’t you get it? He wants me dead and will stop at nothing until that happens. And you’re not safe until then, either, even if I completely stopped seeing you. This is the only way.” He paused. “Maybe he’ll even skip town to avoid suspicion,” he said quieter. “I just need to know that everybody I dragged into this is safe.”

Before I could say anything, Nash’s dad was in front of Nash, the familiar box cutter in one hand and the gun in the other. He went behind Nash, cutting the tape from his hands before letting his feet free as well. He dropped the box cutter into Nash’s lap. “Go ahead,” he instructed. “To be sure you do stay…” he trailed, walking over to me. He grabbed my hair again, forcing me to look toward Nash and I felt something against the side of my head before hearing the gun cock. I swear I stopped breathing then.

Nash picked up the box cutter and I saw his hand faintly shaking. He looked at me and I could see tears built up in his eyes through my own tears. He was staring at me and it seemed like he was trying to tell me something without actually saying anything but I couldn’t be sure of what he’d possibly need to say. He looked away from me, staring down at his bare arm as he gripped the blade tightly and rested it near his elbow. I watched him take a deep breath and move his arm slightly before I couldn’t take it anymore and closed my eyes. I was sobbing so hard I think the people from two streets over would’ve heard me, had it not been soundproofed. Between the few almost inaudible noises I heard Nash make and the happiness I could feel radiating off of his dad, I just knew. He was doing it and his dad was enjoying every second of it.

A minute or so later, I heard something plastic bounce off the ground. I couldn’t hear Nash making anymore sounds and once his dad’s grip loosened, my eyes opened involuntarily. My sobs started coming faster, if that was even possible. Nash was sitting in the chair, the box cutter on the ground next to him and his head resting back against the chair, the only indication of life being his short, slow breaths. I started moving, trying to break free again and Nash’s dad let go of me completely, taking the gun away from me too. And it was then I realized that he wasn’t going to kill me, regardless of anything I could say to the cops. Not because of his son’s dying wish but because, by keeping me alive, he get the satisfaction of killing his son and causing somebody an amount of enormous pain. If he killed me, it was risking jail and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me; he wouldn’t be able to let me go on with the memory of this.

My breathing picked up again and I started feeling lightheaded. I had no clue where Nash’s dad was but right now I didn’t really care. What could he possibly do that would hurt me more than he has? I started seeing black spots and I could feel myself slipping away and I didn’t fight it. What was the point? So I could see Nash take his very last breath?

Soon after, blackness completely took over my vision. But right before I passed out, I heard a loud crashes and people screaming.