Kidnap My Heart 

Chapter 21: Will

After the whole cuddle-rape incident, I figured it was best to wait a few days to finally get back at Emma for all of the pranks she’d pulled on me when she was hiding in the walls. That was already kind of a punishment in and of itself, honestly. I hadn’t really thought of that possibility when I’d crashed on her bed—my bed, technically, but she’d officially claimed it as her own.

I mean, I’d slept with girls before and slept in the same bed as them, but they didn’t mind the sleep-induced cuddling or the morning wood. In fact, they liked it, but Rage was a different case. I was lucky I was still able to get morning wood after what happened with her.

Emma didn’t do anything to get back at me or pull any pranks for the first few days, which was weird. I was hoping she would wait for me to strike, but I hadn’t thought she would. After three days, I decided I’d waited long enough. It was time for the games to begin.

I waited for Emma to fall asleep. After three prank-free nights, she’d gotten comfortable—as comfortable as she could be in circumstances like these, anyway. She freely fell asleep without worrying about what I might do. I quietly got up and stood at the side of her bed, staring down at her sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful as she slept that I almost felt bad for what I was about to do. She looked uncharacteristically angelic. She wasn’t even snoring yet. She was just breathing out slowly and quietly, her chest rising with every breath.

“Oh, damn it,” I muttered. I couldn’t start off with such a mean prank. Even if she did saran wrap my clothes to my bed and staple my pants together, I couldn’t disturb her peaceful sleep this way. I’d start off with something else.

My original plan had been to place two or three of those Red-Hot candies between Emma’s teeth and lips so she’d wake up with a terrible blister, but that was going too far, even for me. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I crashed back down on my make-shift bed on the ground. I would do something else in the morning if I woke up before her, which I usually did. Emma wasn’t a morning person.

Just as I closed my eyes, it started. The snoring. Oh, damn it.

***

I woke up around eleven in the morning. The light from the windows streamed through the slightly open curtains and hit me right on the face. I opened one eye and glanced over at Emma. Still snoring away. What a surprise.

I felt bad for her future husband. The poor guy was never going to get a good night’s sleep with her around. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as her, anyways. Emma came from a rich family; they were probably the kind of family that married for business, not pleasure. Or maybe that was just a stereotype. I had no idea. I’d never discussed marriage with anyone—certainly not a girl like Emma.

At the same time, it was hard to imagine her with a guy who didn’t appreciate just how fascinating and naturally gorgeous she was, a guy who wouldn’t disregard her snoring for a chance to be with her every night. I couldn’t even remember what Rage looked like with makeup on, and I didn’t feel any need to remember. Like I’d said before, she was naturally beautiful.

I slammed my head against my pillow, hoping to feel some of the ground on my head. I needed a good shove back into reality. “Snap out of it, Will. Don’t do this to yourself,” I muttered, shaking my head. No fraternizing with the enemy. That would be a foolish mistake. I wanted to sleep with her, sure, but that was it. She would be just another notch on the bedpost—nothing more, nothing less. I couldn’t let that change.

Feeling the need to do something to distract myself from my traitorous thoughts, I sat up and glanced around the room for an idea. I didn’t want to give her a blister with those Red-Hot candies, but I wanted to do something. But what?

My eyes fixated on the nightstand by my bed. It was small, but it had tall legs and a decently wide space underneath. It would do. I soundlessly shrugged my blankets off and stood up, heading towards the nightstand. I placed the digital clock, lamp, and picture frame that sat on top of the nightstand on the floor and easily lifted the nightstand, positioning it on top of Rage’s head.

I smiled wickedly as she kept snoring away, completely unaware of what was about to happen. Now came the fun part. I grabbed my laptop and looked through the music for the most obnoxious song I could find. I decided “Boss Ass Bitch” by PTAF would work nicely. I kept the volume down while I fast-forwarded, trying to find the hook, and pressed pause when I found it. After connecting my laptop to my speakers and turning them towards Emma, I turned the volume up to its max potential and pressed play.

“I’m a boss ass bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch,” blared loudly from the speakers. Emma woke up with a start, a disconcerted expression clouding the drowsiness she most likely felt, and her head audibly and visibly banged against the table as she sat up in surprise.

“Ow,” she complained loudly, shoving the table off of her body with as much force as her tiny body was capable of. Actually, considering she’d knocked both Eric and me out at some point, I wasn’t sure why I was surprised when the table was pushed to the floor. “What the hell?”

I burst into psychotic laughter and started laughing even harder when she noticed me and shot me an accusing glare.

“What the hell was that for?” she demanded, narrowing her green eyes at me.

“I don’t know, why don’t you the saran wrap you wrapped all over my bed, or maybe the pants you stapled together?” I asked, smirking smugly at her.

Ah. Sweet, sweet revenge. I hadn’t tasted anything this sweet since I made that strawberry cheesecake last month. My ability to bake was the one thing I really had left from my mom. The only thing that seemed tangible, the only thing that seemed real. Plus, chicks seemed to dig it when they realized I could make a killer pastry. I wasn’t sure why. That wasn’t the kind of thing that screamed “sex-god” to me, but whatever. I wasn’t going to argue with them if they liked it.

“Do you really want to start this, Will?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow at me. “Because I can assure you this isn’t going to end well for you.”

“What’s that I hear? Is that a white flag being raised up? So soon? I’m disappointed, Rage.” If she really was raising a white flag, I knew she’d burn it and send it off to space after hearing those words. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge. She was like me in that sense.

“That was me giving you a chance to save yourself,” she said, her lips tugging upwards at the corners. “But if you insist, then…”

“Then what?”

She shoved the comforter on my bed aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Then it’s game on. Bring it, Squilliam.”  

I grinned at her words. I knew she wouldn’t let me down. That was what I liked about Emma. She looked like a spoiled little rich girl on the outside, but she was so much more on the inside. I was just starting to see how much more there really was. Her fire was refreshing, although I had a feeling I wouldn’t be thinking along these lines when she got back at me for this. In fact, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t remember a time when I liked Emma for the shit she pulled.

Her pleasant disposition faded when she got up and looked in the mirror. Her forehead was red, and I was willing to bet she’d be walking around with a giant welt on her forehead for the next few days. “Oh, he’s going to pay,” she muttered to herself, as if I weren’t standing right there. 

“What was that?” I asked, even though I knew perfectly well what she’d muttered.

She forced a smile, looking at me through the mirror. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” She paused. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

I nodded. “Don’t take two hours this time. You’re blowing up our water bill, and I need to take one, too.”

“Right. Because you have so much to do today. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule. What’s first on the list? Watching TV with your brother and Taylor? Making yourself five sandwiches as a snack? Pulling another prank?”

“I have plenty of things to do,” I snapped, racking my brain for an example to supply. I came up short.

“Careful. Don’t strain yourself,” she said. She shook her head. “Jesus, you’re living proof God has a sense of humor.”

I rolled my eyes. These idiot jokes of hers were starting to become a habit. I didn’t like it. “Yeah, yeah. Just go.”

She snorted and did as I said. Her amusement faded when I followed her. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. I knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t something I was willing to budge on, though. My dad had been perfectly clear with his orders. I had to keep Emma by my side at all times. I let her shower by herself and stuff, obviously, but I still had to wait by the door to make sure she didn’t get any funny ideas while she was in there.

While she showered, I decided to squeeze a little workout in while I waited outside. I hadn’t been to the gym in two weeks. Two weeks. I was going to lose all of the muscle I’d fastidiously built up over the past two years. I mean, I did what I could at home, but it wasn’t the same as lifting weights at the gym. Maybe I could convince Emma and Taylor to let me use them as weights. Or would they find that offensive? They might, but it really wouldn’t be an insult. Lifting just one of them wouldn’t match what I usually benched at the gym. They were too small.

Without any equipment, I settled for doing pushups, pull-ups, planks, and various other exercises I’d read about on the internet. I was on my fifth set of pushups when Emma walked out of the bathroom, her hair wet and slick on her neck. I wasn’t sure when she’d grabbed some clothes, but she had a different t-shirt on and had changed into another pair of shorts, shorts which she’d rolled up, as usual. Don’t stare at her legs, Will… you’ll creep her out.

I placed my focus back on my workout. I just needed to finish this set and I’d be done. It was kind of nerve-wracking knowing she was still standing there. Was she looking at me? Did she like what she saw? Oh, God, what if I messed up somehow and made myself look like an ass?

Damn it. Why did it even matter what she thought, or what she liked or didn’t like? I didn’t need her approval. She’d already made it more than clear that my looks weren’t enough for her.

I managed to finish the set without making a fool of myself, and I pushed myself up on the last rep. I wiped my hands on my shorts, breathing heavily. I hadn’t given myself a break in between exercises. I’d been trying to squeeze a good workout into about forty-five minutes and wanted to get the most out of it.

When I glanced up at Emma, I noticed her gaze was focused on me; or, more specifically, my sweaty, shirtless body. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of smugness—maybe joy. She definitely liked what she saw.

“Take a picture,” I said, grabbing my towel from a nearby chair. “It’ll last longer.”

“It’s tempting,” she muttered, but it didn’t seem like she was really talking to me.

“What?”

Her face went red. Rage’s face actually went a dark red. Was I dreaming? This had to be a dream. A nice one at that. “What?”

“I’m guessing you like what you see,” I said, fighting a smirk and miserably failing.

Her mouth opened and abruptly closed. She looked like she wanted to say something witty, but in the end she just groaned quietly and snapped, “Oh, shut up, you know you’re hot. Quit fishing for compliments.” With that, she stormed away, and I was left with a grin I couldn’t shake.

I didn’t care what she said. She could say attraction made no difference all she wanted, but she and I both knew that was a lie. It made all the difference. It was the first step—it was what led to more. And I had no doubt that I could make this turn into more. At that moment, though, I hadn’t known what “more” actually meant. My fantasy of more was different from the reality I later faced.

Still smiling to myself, I went inside the bathroom. Remembering I couldn’t leave Emma alone, I called for my brother. I’d have to make sure Eric kept an eye on her while I was in the shower.

“What?” he yelled back.

“Keep an eye on Rage. I don’t trust her,” I yelled.

Eric’s reply was grudgingly made—shouted, really—but he agreed, anyway.

After I got out of the shower, I was met with an empty living room. That was weird. Where were they? I furrowed my brows and headed upstairs. They’d decided to migrate to my room. Emma and Taylor were sitting on my bed while Eric sat on the chair I had in my room. I’d purposely made sure to leave my clothes in my room. What can I say? I was a bit of an exhibitionist. I couldn’t help it.

Rage wasn’t focused on my abs or biceps this time, though. She was suspiciously unfocused on me, actually. I narrowed my eyes distrustfully, but she just gave me an innocent look when she noticed this.

I looked around the room, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary so I eventually let my guard down. Eric was around. She couldn’t have done anything with him up her ass the entire time.

I grabbed my deodorant from off of my dresser and absentmindedly took off the cap, bringing the deodorant stick to my armpit. Imagine my surprise when I realized I’d just rubbed some unidentifiable substance all over my armpit. I looked down in horror and then shot Emma an accusing look. “What did you do?”

She gestured to herself, giving me that same innocent expression that I now knew was total bullshit. “Me? Why, William, dear, whatsoever do you mean?”

I ignored the boisterous laughter coming from my traitorous brother and Sniffles, focusing my annoyance on Emma. “What the hell is this shit?” I looked down in disgust. “Oh, God, it smells. What have you done?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just cream cheese.” She smiled devilishly. “And a little bit of vinegar. For smell, you know. I’d go back downstairs if I were you. The smell will get to you after a while.”

I hung my head. I knew we’d declared war, but I hadn’t thought she would get me back so quickly. This was going to get out of hand and fast. I could already feel it. “Goddamn it. I’ll be back.” I headed back downstairs, ignoring their mocking laughter as I left. I was forced to take another shower. Emma was right. I hated the smell of vinegar, and it was already starting to drive me insane.

I had to take an extra-long shower thanks to Emma. I swear, the smell wouldn’t go away. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but it was like the smell was haunting me.

The smell wasn’t the only thing that was haunting me. That night, the ghost—or ghosts—continued to plague me, continued to torture me. I was never going to free myself from them. They were inescapable. Not even Emma’s presence was enough to stop them. You’d think they’d have the decency to quit when there was a girl in the room, but nope. They were relentless.

And God, the noises. The noises… there was some more Grudge croaking, some exorcist noises, creaks, groans, psychotic laughter, crying, even fucking alien-sounding languages.

“Oh, please, no,” I muttered, squeezing my covers tightly. Maybe if I kept my eyes closed and pretended I was asleep, they would leave me alone…

Nope. The noises continued. Moans. Groans. Eerie giggles. I wanted to jump out of my window.

“I will eat your soul,” a raspy voice whispered.

Oh, God. Not my soul… I wanted to keep my soul, thanks. God. This wasn’t happening… it wasn’t real. Why wouldn’t this nightmare end?

I gained the courage to glance over at Emma. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was just messing with me. Except she wasn’t. She was sound asleep. It wasn’t her.

It couldn’t be her. I was still looking at her when there was another hoarse whisper, and Emma’s lips weren’t moving. Her chest was rising steadily, and she was lightly snoring. “I can hear your meaty heart pump hot blood…”

Oh, my God, what the fuck? How was I still alive? This ghost was psychotic! Borderline homicidal!

“Rage?” I whispered, praying she would wake up and save me. I wasn’t sure what she could do, but I’d feel less alone if she would wake the fuck up.

“Save us… save us…” Then there was some heavy breathing.

Oh, screw this. Who cared if I pissed Emma off? I was about five seconds away from having a heart attack, and I needed some comfort, godammit. I would try my best to make sure Vlad the Impaler didn’t make a guest appearance, but I couldn’t make any promises. If she wasn’t such a heavy sleeper, there wouldn’t be a problem. I wouldn’t have had to resort to this. I wouldn’t have had to resort to climbing into bed with Emma. It wasn’t like it was becoming a habit or anything. I’d only done it twice, and both times were perfectly justifiable. Anyone in my position would have done the same thing. Hell, Emma had done the same thing the first time. There was no reason to overthink this. No reason at all. 

***

A/N: Can I pleeeeeeeeeeease have my own Will? No? No? Okay.