*Troye's POV*

All I could think about was how badly my head was pounding at first. I tried to think of something else but then it'd throb again to remind me. But slowly, after what seemed like hours of nothing but constant pain, I was able to think somewhat coherent thoughts again. The first thing I was aware of was how cold the floor my face was lying against was, though try as I may, there would be no sitting up any time soon. I tried to move my arm to push myself off the ground, but all I succeeded in doing was worsening my headache by a thousand times. I groaned out loud, not even being able to clutch my hand to it. After that pain had subsided a bit, I tried to open my eyes. No such luck, so I decided to rely on my less difficult senses. I concentrated on listening, but the only thing I could hear was the rhythmic pattern of water dropping, maybe a leak in the roof somewhere. Where was I? More importantly, where was Tyler?

I tried to fall back to sleep after that, but my body just wasn't cooperating. In the end I just stayed lying there with my eyes closed, thinking despite how clouded my head felt. I was trying to remember where I was or why I felt like this. Maybe a bad hangover and I woke up on the floor of a bathroom? That'd explain the water dripping. Except I hardly ever drink, and I'd never in my life been so drunk I woke up with a hangover like this. The pain was still excruciating, but there was something new to distract me now. Footsteps.

They were becoming louder and were echoing around, like they were in some sort of hallway. Suddenly there was the sound of metal clanking and my body tensed up, too exhausted to actually jump. More footsteps now, but they sounded a lot more intense, likely because they were in the same room as me now. Just when they were getting so loud they made my head pound, they stopped. I wanted so badly to open my eyes, or my mouth, and find out who those feet belonged to, but I just couldn't. 

The silence stayed for a long time, which led me to believe they were just standing there staring at me. That was creepy. Unless it was Tyler, then it might be considered sort of cute in the staring-longingly-at-your-lover sort of way. Except if I was actually this hungover you'd think he'd be helping me off the floor by now. Whatever, I was finally starting to get close to sleep again and I'd be able to figure out what was going on when I woke up. Just as my breathing started to even out into deep breaths and my heart slowed down, there was a loud clash right beside my ear. I jumped for real this time, surprised by my own ability to move. I mean, really it was just a fish-flopping movement that got me further away from the sound, but it was still a lot considering how I was feeling.

"Morning sleeping-beauty." My blood went cold at that voice. That was not Tyler at all. Now I wanted to open my eyes more than ever, and that's exactly what I struggled to do. I didn't feel safe with my eyes closed anymore. But the more I struggled the more useless it seemed and eventually I just let my head flop back down to the ground, saturating in the cold now after all that work.

"Oh, come on Troye, that's all the fight you have in you? A little pathetic, actually." I ignored him, trying to concentrate on the water in the background instead of his voice. But his voice was so much louder...

"You're no fun when you're unconscious, hurry up and get rested so we can play." I winced slightly at the word 'play', but otherwise didn't respond. He seemed frustrated with this, the sound of his footsteps receding a moment later. More metal clanking, and then quieter footsteps until they eventually faded to silence. It was a while before things went silent though, how far in was he keeping me? Where was he keeping me? Why the hell was he keeping me at all? I was beginning to shiver, but I don't think it was because of the temperature. What did he want with me? Obviously it couldn't be very good if he had to drug me and drag me somewhere to make sure he got it.

When I awoke next I felt much better, practically normal aside from the horrible cramping from laying on the floor. I concluded it must be concrete, considering I was just now noticing how scratchy it was against my face. I took a deep breath for support and tried to open my eyes again. It worked this time, though I sort of wished it hadn't. Seeing my surroundings definitely didn't make me feel any better. It was very dark, aside from a small grated window across the room, outside of my cell. Did I mention I was in a cell? It was just like the prison cells you'd see in movies, with an uncomfortable looking bed in one corner and a make-shift bathroom in the other. I noticed the lack of a shower and cringed, hopefully I wouldn't be staying here too long. Then again, what was my alternative to staying here? I decided to be extra brave and try sitting up again, considering the cold was beginning to seep right into my bones. With a bit of discomfort and struggling, I managed to sit up and lean back against the wall. It might have been a bit of an improvement, if it weren't for the fact it had made my headache come back. At least I could use my hands now, so I tried rubbing circles into my temples in an attempt to lessen the pain. It worked eventually, but then I realized that was the only thing distracting me from the situation I was in. Now I had nothing left to do but think about was was going on, where I was right now.

This definitely wasn't a hangover, that much was for certain. The memories were back in full now. I remembered the cute conversation about marriage with Tyler, then going to the car, and then I'd gotten chloroformed by-

"Hey babe, awake for good this time?" I reluctantly looked up, my heart stopping when I seen Wyatt leaning against the bars with a smirk. He looked nothing like he used to though. He used to have that cute American-teenage-boy sort of charm to him, but now he just looked dark. There were bags under his eyes that told me he hadn't been getting much sleep, hopefully because he felt bad for what he'd done. His hair was no longer styled in a quiff, instead greased back with a stray strand against his forehead. It looked incredibly creepy this way, but I suppose that's what he was going for considering he was a fucking kidnapper. I decided not to reply to him, half because I didn't know if I could talk yet and half because I wanted to piss him off. Was that a good idea? Pissing off the guy who had me locked in a cell? Well, it was better than just going along with everything he said. Instead I opted for just glaring at him through my eyelashes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, faking a pout. I just glared at him some more, refusing to talk to him. He sighed finally, moving away a few steps.

"Be that way then, I'll just have to make you talk to me. I'll be right back, darling." He cooed the last word, but it sounded far from sweet. It was almost hostile, like I could hear the hatred seething underneath it. I watched him walk out of my sight and then metal was clanking once again. There must be a heavily barred door or something that you need to go through to get in. Great, like the cell bars weren't going to keep me here enough. Where was here anyway? Since when were there dungeons in the city? It couldn't be a dungeon, we must be in some sort of old prison or something. Besides, there was still light streaming through the window, so it couldn't be completely underground. Someone might be able to hear me still. Should I try? What if it didn't work and it only made the psycho more angry? No, I had to try, if there was even a chance of it getting me out of here.

"Hello! Help!" I screamed, not daring to travel any closer to the bars. I didn't want to be in Wyatt's reaches when he came back, especially if he was angry. My accent was a lot stronger than usual, possibly for not talking for so long or just from the pure terror I was experiencing. I continued screaming until my throat went raw and I couldn't any longer. Wyatt had yet to come back so I was secretly hoping that was a sign he wouldn't be coming back any time soon. I didn't want to be left down here alone when it got dark, but the thought of being with him in the dark scared me even more. The sun was beginning to set, the shadows enveloping the room more and more. Maybe I should just try to fall back asleep, at least then I wouldn't have to be conscious in this scary room at night. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on deep breaths.

"I wouldn't if I were you, it's best to keep your eyes open so you can see the rats." I jumped to my feet in about a second then, not enjoying the way they threatened to give out underneath me. I swayed slightly, clutching the brick walls as best I could. Rats? Oh, hell no. 

"You're j-joking, there aren't really any rats, are there?" I choked out, scanning the floor with wide eyes. Wyatt just snickered to himself, kicking at the ground with one foot.

"I wish I was." I cringed, instinctively moving closer to the front of the cell. Wyatt was creepy, but not as creepy as the corner of the cell I couldn't fully make out in the dark. Who knew what was brewing down there. I hadn't even realized how close I'd gotten until I felt Wyatt's hand grab mine. I screamed, slapping him away and stumbling backward onto my ass. Great, now I'm on the floor with the rats. Oh no, I'd been sleeping on the floor for who knows how long with them. I got back to my feet, being very cautious of the space between Wyatt and I. At least he'd just grabbed my hand, that was innocent enough. Then again, I doubted he dragged me all the way here to hold my hand.

"I heard you screaming for help, kind of cute actually." He laughed a little to himself, focusing on the phone he had in his hands instead of on me. I didn't mind though, I didn't want his creepy eyes on me.

"Fuck you." I spat, making it clear I wasn't into his games. He did look up now, a smirk present on his face.

"Well, remember you asked for it." My eyes went wide and I began shaking my head rapidly, backing up against the wall. I wished I could just blend into it and hide, but I couldn't. I was a zoo animal on display in every sense. My life was in his hands and he had the power to do basically anything he wanted with me. Those were the thoughts running through my mind as I watch him set his phone down on a table and start working at opening the cell door. I felt like I couldn't breath, my heart thumping dully in my chest. He wouldn't dare. He wasn't that sick, was he? He opened the door finally, coming inside and locking it behind him, then dutifully hanging the key back around his neck. The chain was thick, not something I could just snap off. Maybe I could strangle him with it though... No, that'd make me even more sick than he was. He started moving toward me and I felt like I was going to vomit. 

"What's the matter? You look a little pale." He observed, now standing only a foot away from me at most. I couldn't move, my back was still pressed up against the brick and my knees felt like jelly underneath me. It was a wonder I was still standing. He started to lean towards me and I was shaking with fear. He smiled slightly before closing in on me, kissing my neck. It didn't feel right though, it just felt like slobber all over my skin. Why wasn't I pushing him off? Why couldn't I just use my damn arms? I was still numb though, my arms hanging limply at my sides. 

"Come on, I was expecting some sort of reaction out of you." He mumbled, pulling back to look me in the eyes. I didn't even have the courage to glare any more, cold sweat running down my back in droplets. This was like my worst nightmare come true. What did I do to deserve this? I mean, sure I shouldn't have used him like I did, but that was no justification for this. 

"Huh?" He urged, moving closer to me, his breath hot on my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, the only thing I could manage to do right now. I thought this had successfully deterred him when he pulled away, until I felt his hand slap my face. I scoffed, holding my cheek and blinking back tears.

"Look at me." He hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I cringed, but didn't close my eyes this time. He smiled, obviously happy with the result. 

"Good boy." He spat, patting my head like I was some sort of dog. I was about to protest this behavior when he mercilessly crashed his lips against mine, causing my back to smash back against the brick. I gasped in pain, but immediately regretted it when he took it as a sign to slip his tongue into my mouth. It felt disgusting, making my stomach curl up. This was so wrong. I shoved him backward, suddenly regaining control of my arms. I didn't even bother to look at his reaction, I just hunched over and concentrated on deep breaths to keep myself from hurling. When I was finally certain it was going to stay down I took one last deep breath and stood up straight. The first thing I seen was his fist, flying toward me. He punched me in the cheek so hard I fell to the ground. I felt tears rolling down my face, but they weren't my main problem right now. Wyatt was kneeling beside me now, tentatively touching my cheek and wiping the tears off. I thought I seen a shred of sentiment in his eyes for a split second, until he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and yanked me onto his lap. I looked into his eyes pleadingly, even going so far as to pout my lower lip out in a puppy-dog like manner. There was nothing there now though, definitely not sentiment. His eyes were dark and empty, nearly completely black in the low-lighting. He reached his hand up and I cringed away, clenching my eyes shut. The blow I'd been expecting didn't come though, instead he just ran a finger along my jaw. When I opened my eyes again there was no anger in his eyes, just the same blackness that'd been there before. In a way this was worse than anger, there was no way to tell what he was feeling. If he was even feeling.

"I still love you, you know." He whispered, trailing off of my jaw and down my neck. I wanted to just swat his hand away, but I couldn't help but remember what happened the last time I shoved him away.

"Do you still love me, Troye?" I felt my heartbeat speed up and quickly broke eye contact, looking down at the ground. I couldn't speak to deny it, but this had made it obvious. Emotion flickered across his face for once, possibly hurt? 

"Did you ever love me, Troye?" He asked, an almost hopeful look to him. I tried to look back to the floor but he grabbed my jaw, firmly turning it back to face him. He narrowed his eyes, as if threatening me to say what he wanted to hear. I wasn't going to do that though, no way. There wasn't much I could do to get him back for what he was putting me through, except for this.

"Never, not even a little bit." I growled, looking him straight in the eye. He tilted his head slightly, giving a crooked smile like he'd wanted that answer. 

"You should have lied." He hissed. My jaw dropped in shock but before I could prepare myself he threw me backward, against the wall again but much harder this time. I cried out, scrambling to curl into a ball to protect myself from the next blow. I didn't make it in time though, my movement slowed by the coursing pain in my head. He was already standing now. I gave up trying and just watched him pull his leg back, landing a kick against my side that could shatter bones. Hell, it probably had by the amount of pain it gave me. I was sobbing now, even though the movement hurt me more. I couldn't not cry though, not when my entire body felt like it was falling apart.

"Pathetic." Wyatt laughed, spitting on the ground beside my face, luckily it hadn't hit me. He stood in the center of the cell and laughed for a minute before turning on his heel and heading out, making sure to lock the door behind him. He started to leave, but turned back to look at me through the bars.

"Sleep tight, don't let the rats bite." I could barely make out his smirk through my tears, but I knew it would be there anyway. I tried to concentrate on the sound of his footsteps as he left as a distraction, but I couldn't. The pain was still there, demanding to be felt. Eventually there were no footsteps to concentrate on at all and I couldn't even hear the water dripping over my uneven sobs. I forced my hand off the ground, trying to move it all the way up to where my side was throbbing. I made it to my hips before a crinkling noise distracted me. I focused all of my energy on getting my fumbling hands to pull whatever it was out of my pocket. 

When I finally got it out nearly ten minutes had passed, it's strange how much the kick to my side had crippled me. I held the piece of paper up, only a few shreds of light to illuminate it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again. I could see clearer now, but still not very well. My eyes kept going out of focus and my head felt foggy. But I could make out one word on the piece of paper, and that's all I needed to see.

Love.

It was my note from Tyler. Tyler. I hadn't thought it possible but I was crying even harder now. It didn't matter what I had to suffer through or put up with, as long as he was there waiting for me at the finish line. We'd gone through so much together, surely this was just another bump in the road. I'd get through it, I had to, for him. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on picturing Tyler's face instead of the black hole in my side. I pictured him when he saw me again, I pictured us coming out to the fans, I even pictured the idiot at the freaking altar. I had to, there was no telling if these dreams would ever come true. I would do everything in my power to try and make them though. 

A/n: Idk, this hurt me to write, like, physically pained me. I noticed a few of you cheeky ones guessed it was Wyatt, the next Troye POV some things are going to be cleared up so stay tuned. And also, I planned this all along so I hope all you people that felt bad for Wyatt realize how ironic that was. Okay, I'm done. How did you like it? I have been very dedicated about getting you folks early updates lately so you guys should continue with your dedicated voting and commenting. Yes? Can you do that? You'd better or I'll stab you. K minions, that is all