And he’s interesting. Fascinating, actually.
Andreallygood in bed. Can’t forget that.
The light feel of a tear trickling down my cheek makes me rub it on his chest, hoping to wipe the fear, that’s still circulating, away. Another follows, though, and before I know it, I’m bawling like a baby into the chest of a man who can’t do a damn thing. If he’d just open his eyes, let me see that green so I could get that sense of assurance from him, I’d be alright, but instead, we’re just here in a van, travelling to God knows where to find God knows what. I don’t even know if he’s alright, or if this slash on the back of his head has done permanent damage to a man I’ve only just bloody well found.
I roll away from him at the thought, anger and irritation rubbing me up the right way again. How dare they take us? And what the hell for? And punching me?
Arseholes.
Sniffing up the tears, I stagger to my feet and slam my body against the side wall to try making some noise. Nothing happens, so I try kicking out at the sides over and over again, and then try rubbing my face on the side of the interior to catch the tape and rip it off. That doesn’t work either, but the sudden braking of the van, and abrupt sharp turn, does make me wonder if we’ve finally arrived somewhere.
The vehicle slows just as I hear a loose groan come out of Blake’s mouth. I stop kicking and spin to look at him, watching as his head moves a little. Good. Alive. I scuttle across to him, shoving him with my Converse and attempting to make noise come out of my gagged mouth. Unfortunately, before I’ve managed either successfully enough to wake him completely, the doors open.
Two guys climb straight in the back. One starts hauling me out, and the other guy looks like the man who stopped us for his dog. He goes for Blake. I keep looking back through the darkening light, as I’m pulled across an old yard of some sort, glancing at the outlying surroundings. Might be a farm or an old, abandoned building left to ruin. Don’t know, but I do know there’s nothing else but a low-lying moon rising and quiet.
I trip on some old waste metal, barely managing to keep up with the speed the guy pulling me is travelling at. My knee hits hard, and I feel the slice of metal ripping through my jeans and gouging a deep cut into my skin. He doesn’t seem to care, and I’m towed forcefully again until we get to a ramshackle building, the roof caving in at one end. Stone pillars try in vain to keep it standing, and I’m led to one of them and tied to it.
Real fear engulfs me as I watch the balaclava-clad guy leave. I’m alone in the middle of fuck knows where with no real idea why. I don’t get into these situations often, but Christ it’s becoming a recurring bloody event lately.
And where’s Blake?
Oh god, I hope he’s alright.
The eventual sight of him being carried by both of them into the same space as me makes me breathe a small sigh of relief. They both drop him against the far wall that’s still intact and make swift work of cable tying him in place using some old iron pipework. We’re left nearly opposite each other. The sight of one of them coming towards me makes me try backing up, getting out of his way, turning my head at least so I don’t get another punch, but he just rips the tape off my face.
I spit the rag out of my mouth and heave in the first full breath I’ve had, ignoring the pain from my split lip.
“Scream as much as you want now, bitch.”
And then they’re gone, and I continue to gulp in fresh air. How long for, I don’t know, and what they’ll do when they get back is also unknown, but for now we’re alone, thank Christ.
“Blake?” I cough and try again, finally able to get some volume out of myself. “BLAKE!”
Nothing.
~
My eyes are heavy, and with darkness now complete, it’s hard to stay alert. I gave up shouting at Blake what feels like hours ago, and now there's nothing but him still on the floor and me losing any hope I might have had. I still have the rancid taste of dried blood in my mouth, and this lip is painful as hell, but other than that, it's just a haze of more time. More darkness. More nothing. In fact, all I've got is staring at this grubby floor and trying to keep alive.
The eventual groan from where Blake's tied up makes me flip my head up, and I cling to that as a lifeline in the dark. “Wake up!” I shout. “We need a fucking hero moment right now, Blake.” We needed it hours ago, but I don’t mention that. “This is not a good look on you. Get up and do something, will you?”
Another groan, and I finally see his eyes opening a little and then watch as he tries moving his body. “Good god, stop fucking about, Blake. Up. Please. We haven’t got time for dramatics.” One leg starts moving, his boot trying to gain traction on the ground. “Yep, that’s it, take your bloody time, why don’t you.” My eyes roll, taking my teary relief that he’s responding away. “BLAKE!”
“Fuck,” he groans.
Language. Good. “Are you with it yet? I need rescuing.”
The sudden eruption of legs and movement makes me smile and scope out the door, checking for those two who might come back. “Ivy?”
I look back at him, partially amused, as he tugs on his cable ties and tries to go into hero mode. “Yep. Still here tied to a bloody pillar. Any chance you’re going to do something about that?”
“What the fuck happened?”
“I’m glad you asked. Two men, van, abduction. You got hit on the back of your head. How is that?”
“Fucking painful.” He tugs again, getting nowhere, and then just stares at me. “What’s the matter with your leg?” I look down at it, noting the blood seeping through my jeans near my knee.
“Tripped. I’m more bothered about the fact that I got punched in the face trying to protect you.” His eyes widen, and he starts going ballistic on the ties, as if sheer physical strength might break him out of them. I doubt it will, but I watch on in hope. “It really fucking hurt. I mean, what man punches a woman in the face?” He twists and turns, somehow rotating his body so he can get his boot to the post and use leverage against it. "And why? It's not like I could have beaten him in a shoving contest."
