Ashton's POV
1 month later
We're starting to give up hope. There has been no sign of Hannah for over a month. Every day the boys and I go out to look for her but we've never found anything. The police found DNA that matched Hannah's Dad on her mattress. It's looking increasingly likely that Hannah is dead.
"Guys lunch!" I scream and slowly the boys come through to the kitchen, I still lay a small meal out for Hannah just in case she comes back.
"I'm not hungry" Michael mumbles and starts to exit the room
"Mikey, you didn't eat yesterday, you need to be healthy for when Hannah comes back" Shawn says
"Hannah's probably dead" he grunts fighting back tears
"No she's not" Shawn states
"How do you know?" Michael asks
"I just do, I can feel it" he says
Hannah's POV
A few hours Later
Every time I hear my dads footsteps I zip my lips and go into my happy place, this pays off because he say's that I'm being a good girl, he let's me off my chair and back to the radiator and he even opened the high up window.
The front door slams and a few seconds later the large metal door opens and my dad walks in.
"Hey there you little bitch" he slurs, I can tell he's black out drunk. I stay silent and he doesn't wait for an excuse to hit me, he lunges foward and punches me in the nose and continues to knock the living day light of me.
The window is still open but I don't bother screaming, from what I've seen this street is quiete so no one would hear me anyway. The birds and bees calm me as I try and ignore the extreme pain that has erupted everywhere.
My Dad kinda fell and is now just lying on the floor. I hear faint yells from outside and they start to become louder
"Hannah!" a familiar voice yells
"What's the point we're never going to find her" another voice sighs
"Shut up Michael" another voice scolds, Michael! My Michael all the voices are clear it's the boys and I'm pretty sure Shawns there too, they haven't forgotten. But my dad recognises the voices before I do and gives me a look of death.
Even if I did scream and they hear, he could kill me quicker than them coming to find me. It takes all my strength not to scream but I don't. As the voices get further away I feel myself becoming more and more broken.
I'm done with this. People say that when someone gets kidnapped they gat "stockholm syndrome" an unexplainable relationship with the captor. I have not and will never. I turn to my Dad who is staring at me grinning like the joker. I lose it.
"What did I ever do to you? Your a fucking pshyco and a murderer. I hate you. I don't understand why you would go out of your way to hurt your own daughter. Just fucking kill me already" I scream
He looks at me still grinning "Fine"
Gahhhhh I hate this but I love it. I can never thank anyone enough who reads me stories. LY bye