Prisoner of My Own Body

*Being Edited
16 year-old Sophie's in for more than she expected when she meets One Direction. The boys, Harry especially, take a liking to her body and feisty attitude immediately, and kidnap her to be their own little toy. But then they tell her her mom sold her to them? She's in constant confusion, blindly trying to foresee what will happen to her next as the boys are bi-polar most of the time. The worst part is that Sophie is starting to develop feelings for her kidnappers, and some of them also start developing feelings for her.....

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26. Deep

My vision is hazy, figures blurry in front of me. Something cold is pressed against my forehead. The floor is chilly underneath me. I blink once then twice.

“Look! She’s gaining consciousness!” Four shapes rush around me. I feel woozy and all I can see are their indistinct faces. I try to sit up but some kind of force pushes against me, holding me on the floor.

“Don’t move,” a resonating voice advises as a hand is pressed on my shoulder to keep me laid down.

 I whimper in complaint and stubbornly try sitting up, without much success.

“Niall, Harry, help the stubborn girl sit,” the voice continues. Two pairs of hands carefully lift me up a sitting position, and help me keep it. I automatically hold the icepack in place on my head.

“Soph, how many fingers can you see?” the same voice echoes, holding up at my face what looks like twelve fingers at a time. I try focusing on them.

“Seven,” I reply shakingly. “No. Eight if you stop moving. Or maybe six?” my head throbs painfully. “I don’t know!” I give up angrily, throwing the ice pack in frustration.

“Don’t yell, you’re making things worse for yourself,” I now identify Liam as the one talking. Louis is the one that brings the ice pack back to me, softly pressing it the bump on my head.

“Keep it there, or it’ll swell,” he advises.

“Then let it swell,” I sigh negatively, taking the ice pack off my forehead. Louis rolls his eyes in irritation but I ignore him, looking around. Ok. Why am I in the bathroom?

“Now,” Liam snaps his fingers to get my attention. “How many fingers?” he asks, clearly holding up four digits.

“Four,” I say assuredly.

“Good.” It’s his turn to sigh. “It’s not that bad.”

“What isn’t that bad?” I ask, not recalling any recent happenings.

“You hit your head,” Liam explains. “You might have a very minor brain concussion but that's it,”

“What happened?” I ask, rubbing my temples. Harry and Niall let go of my back, and all the four boys place themselves in front of me, serious looks on their faces.

“I left you alone in the bathroom. Then you...” Harry was struggling with his words.

“Y-you cut-t yourself... ” Niall continues eyeing my arms, voice wavering slightly. “A-a-and then there was sooo much blo-blood a-and you lost balance I guess.”

“You fell and most likely hit your head on floor, because when I came in to check on you, I found you as white as a sheet, almost floating in a puddle of blood. It was horrible,” Harry ends, on the verge of tears.

“He yelled for us to come and help you. We managed to stop the blood flow and all, but you wouldn’t wake up,” Liam continues, looking at me with soft eyes.

“We panicked, automatically thinking the worst, but then you were breathing,” Louis finishes.

“I’m just so glad you’re okay Soph.” Niall says, almost teary eyed. “I doubt we could've lived with ourselves...”

I look at the five fresh marks in the inside of my arms, the memory slowing returning.

“What do you remember Soph?” Harry probes, his eyes red.

“All...” I say softly and slowly. “Zayn raped me...You guys started fighting because of what happened to me....I felt guilty since you guys usually never fight and I cut myself. Turns out I cut a little too deep this time,” I end, my fingers tracing the red marks. “Where is Zayn?”

“He went out for a bit. He didn’t think you’d go all suicide, and now he feels bad.” Liam explains.

“I didn't try to kill myself,” I mumble lowly but nobody listens.

“He deserves to feel bad! Look what he did to her!” Harry explodes, motioning me. I close my eyes.

“We are not getting back into this Harry,” Louis groans. “Zayn is gonna apologize and it’s gonna be Sophie that’ll decide whether or not she accepts his apologies!”

“But she—!”

“Could you please stop yelling? You’re giving me a headache,” I say quietly, grabbing my head into my hands. “I think I’m gonna go rest for a bit...” I say, standing up wobbily. 

Hands automatically grab me and help me keep my balance.

I groan as my stomach suddenly gives an abnormal jerk, a disgusting substance making its way to my mouth. I find myself running for the toilet, before emptying my insides in it.

A hand softly rubs my back as I vomit again, another person holding my hair up. Confused, I’m on the brim of tears, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The boys on my heels, I head to the sink, washing my mouth and hands. As soon as I see the scars and I start sobbing, tears streaming freely down my face.

“Shhh. It’s okay love... everything’ll be just fine.” Niall’s Irish voice soothes me, before engulfing me into a hug.

“Maybe she hit her head harder than we thought...” Liam remarks worriedly.

Somebody picks me up, but it’s not Niall.

Harry’s green orbs meet my teary ones.

“I’ll bring you to bed Soph. You need to rest,” he says quietly, hauling me out of the bathroom. Wait that doesn’t sound right... I can’t sleep if I have a concussion... My head starts pounding and I stop thinking altogether. Carefully, Harry lays me on the bed and tucks me in before kissing my forehead.

“I'm so sorry for today love,” he mumbles as he pulls away.

 I sigh softly at his gentle touch.

He’s about to leave but I stop him in his tracks.

“Harry?”

“Hmm...?” he responds turning back around.

“Could you sing me to sleep please?” I ask quietly, not sure if he’d accept or not. To my surprise, he lies beside me in the bed and pulls me closer to him.

“What do you wanna hear?” he questions, his thumb pad making circles on my cheek.

“Anything. Just sing please,” I sigh, already being soothed by his gentle caresses.

 Harry starts singing softly.

 

Isn't she lovely
Isn't she wonderful
Isn't she precious
Less than one minute old
I never thought through love we'd be
Making one as lovely as she
But isn't she lovely made from love

 

I smile as he starts playing with wisps of my hair, my eyelids closing without my permission.

“Are you still awake sweetheart?” he whispers.

I gently nod and he continues his signing.


Isn't she pretty
Truly the angel's best
Boy, I'm so happy
We have been heaven blessed
I can't believe what God has done
Through us he's given life to one
But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she lovely
Life and love are the same
Life is Aisha
The meaning of her name
Londie, it could have not been done
Without you who conceived the one
That's so very lovely made from love

 

I drift to sleep as he kisses my forehead, leaving me alone to face torturous dreams.

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