Kate
Ijerk awake to the sound of metal groaning as it scrapes against stone. A boot slams against the side of my leg, shooting pain through my entire body. Panic ripples through my chest, but my throat’s so dry I can’t even scream.
“Get up, girl.” The voice in the darkness is cold, haunting. The shit that nightmares are made of.
I rise on trembling limbs and raise my eyes to find my bearings. A violent wave of nausea rolls through my stomach, splatting the floor near my unsteady feet with bile. The act drains all my strength, making my eyelids heavy. My knees buckle, dropping me straight back down to the floor. It’s wet and cold, reeking of urine and other unfavorable body fluids. I gag uncontrollably.
“Here then,” the voice grates. Something hits me hard in the stomach, making a muted splashing sound. My hands reach out and fumble for the item. It’s a bottle of liquid. My weak fingers squeeze and twist at the cap, unable to remove it as quickly as I’d like. I pray it’s water when I finally get it open and bring it to my lips. There’s no smell—I’m not even sure I would care if there was—my throat burns so painfully all I can think of is putting out the fire.
I gulp back the bottle and clear, clean water floods my mouth and stomach. I drink so fast I vomit it right back up. I bite my bottom lip to keep from sobbing and my head swims from the pain and dizziness. Curling myself into a ball, I lean against the cool stone of the walls and sip the water slowly, waiting for the stabbing feeling in my belly to subside.
The man who brought me the water is a deep dark shadow by the door. He’s outlined by a glow from an outside room. I can’t make out any of his features, just that he’s chuckling and closing the door, dousing my world in complete blackness once again. A lock clicks and I know I’m caged inside.
“Go to hell,” my voice cracks through the quietness of the room.
* * *
My legs and arms are ice cold and numb the next time the door creaks open. I’m sitting in the farthest corner, my knees pulled up to my chin, waiting. My hands are bloody from tearing at the plastic bottle trying to make a sharp weapon to use. I’ve done enough damage to the container to feel confident I might be able to cause a little bit of pain. The edges are jagged and almost razor-sharp.
The door shuts quickly behind this newest shadow, and again complete blackness engulfs me.
I rise up to my feet like a shot, ignoring the sharp stab of cramps. There’s no way I’m going to sit and let any of these men touch me. I’d rather be dead, so I’ll put up one hell of a fight.
The shadow moves closer to me, slowly. I keep my hands wrapped around the knife-edged plastic behind my back in case they flash a light on me. The last thing I need these shitheads to know is that I’mkind ofarmed. I don’t want them to see it coming.
“Kate?” a voice softly whispers.
My mouth falls open but I’m too speechless at the moment to make a sound.
“Kate?” the voice whispers again.
“Asshole?” I ask, feeling a spiral of tingly giddiness deep in my chest.
His boots shuffle quickly over the gravelly floor and warm hands slip over my skin to my face. “Are you hurt?” His voice is brittle, shaky.
“What? How?” My words stumble out as I press the palms of my hands over his. “I…don’t understand.”
He drags his thumb gently over my jaw. Through the darkness I can just about make out his features, yet I know how close he stands from the warm fan of his breath on my cheeks.
“Those men…” I mumble, my stomach clenching painfully.
“Are no longer a problem,” he says darkly.
I stare at his shadowy figure, a twinge of bitterness bubbling in my chest. He and his alien friends did this; they caused all this crap to happen. Nowhe’sthe one to come andsave me. I raise my chin from his grip.
“Butyou. You’re still my problem.” I’m shaking, getting myself sick to my stomach again thinking about what’s outside the door.
“I wasneverthe problem,” he whispers, inching closer.
I bare my teeth, wanting to lash out. “You and your kind destroying my world was never a problem?”
His hands, large and hot, press down against my shoulders, flattening my back into the wall. “I’m the one who came tosavethis world.”
“What?” I ask, pushing back against his weight. “I don’t understand. You said that...” but I stop, because I’m wrong. He never said anything. He never even told me his name.
“Rune,” he says into the darkness consuming us, sliding his hands off me.
“Ruin what?” I ask, mind racing.
“My name. It’sRune,” he says, pronouncing it slowly.
“Are you human?” I ask.
“Yes. No,” he hesitates for a brief moment then continues. “Well, it all depends on what your definition of human is,” he exhales.
