He hums in thought, then says, “BRB,” and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.
For a few tense minutes, I sit in agonized thought, wondering what he needs a newspaper for.A little messagehe had said. I don’t dare even look at where the other guy is standing watching me, lest I inadvertently trigger his punch-happy hands. I just sit and touch the bruises on my face, testing for their tenderness.
When Alastor returns, newspaper tucked under his arm, he drags the dining room chair to the middle of the room, ordering me to sit. I slowly make my way over and plop into the chair.
He gestures for his friend to join us before telling him, “Her bruises look a little… faded. I think she needs a fresh one. For incentive, you understand,” he adds in my direction.
“No! No, ple-” That little shit gets me right on the cheekbone over the top of my already throbbing previous injury, and I scream in agony.
The grin splitting Alastor’s face tells me he enjoys using his little pet against me immensely, and I wipe away my tears before forcing my expression back to its stony facade. He hands me the newspaper to hold up and stands back with my phone, “Say cheese,” he says, aiming the camera at me before pausing, “Hmmm. Something’s missing. Here, you take this,” he throws it to Taylor.
Standing behind me, I feel him grip the back of my neck with one hand, and something cold presses against the front of it. I choke back a sob as a sluice of warmth trickles down my throat, coupled with the coppery scent I’ve quickly become accustomed to in their presence.
“Smile pretty,” he tells me, pressing the knife against me slightly harder, causing fresh tears to fall. I try to remain calm and not let the terror show on my face, but I’m pretty sure I fail miserably.
Once they’re done with the picture and doing whatever it is they’ve decided to do with it, Alastor turns to me again, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. “I hate doing this, you know. I think it would be more fun to drag you kicking and screaming.ButI don’t think we would get very far before someone stopped us and asked too many questions.”
“I won’t fight. Please don’t drug me again,” I beg. Pathetically, I’ll admit.
“Yeah…” he waves the syringe around, “here’s the thing. I don’t believe you.” He doesn’t give me another warning before jamming the motherfucker into my neck, far harder than the other guy did it, and I’m lost to oblivion again.
That’s it. I’m Coming In.
Caspian
“Shit,” I say.
“Shit,” Fritz repeats.
“Belissenda Hart, you open this doorright fucking now!” Isla yells from the other side of said door.
“What do we do?” Fritz whispers to me.
“I don’t fucking know.” I whisper back, debating on just letting her in. If her friend is missing, I think she has a right to know.
“Bel, I swear to fuck, you better answer this door. We are all worriedsickabout you.” Fritz’s eyes widen, staring at the thin slab of wood separating her from us.
“We should just open it, right?” he asks me, “Isla is harmless, she’s just worried about her friend.”
Before either of us can make our way toward the door to answer, there’s the sound of a key turning, and Isla slams it open, looking at us with narrowed eyes, “Where’s Bel?” she asks with false calmness.
How are we supposed to explain to her that her friend was kidnapped, and we are just standing around here, not calling the authorities?
“I can explain,” I start. “Bel-” I pause, “Bel is…”
“Bel iswhat,Caspian? She’s sleeping off the epic threesome you’ve had? She’s comatose from an overdose of orgasms? Those are the only fucking answers I wanna hear,” her voice wobbles.
I hold my hands up, placatingly, “Someone… took her,” I try, “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”
“Someone. Took her,” Isla repeats back, eyes watering, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“She was kidnapped,” Fritz adds unhelpfully, gaining her instant ire, “But if it makes you feel better, they were after Cas.”
“Where. Is. She?” she looks back at me, “Why aren’t you doing anything if you know who has her? Where are the police? Her parents? Someone, anyone?”
“Look, I swear we can explain,” Fritz starts, “and wearedoing something. We called an expert who will be here any minute.”
“Oh, thank God, anexpert.” she laughs without humor, “You two assholes got my friend kidnapped, but you’ve called in anexpertto get her back. Fuck you, I’m calling the cops.”
