Seventy (Heather); Love Letters.
"Hold out your arm."
I do as I'm told; I'm far too frightened to act defiant now.
"There's a good girl." His voice is patronising, but I can't even find the courage to be angry with him, let alone actually do anything about the fact I hate being patronised...
"What do you want?" Danny demands, sounding so courageous I both want to cheer for him and scream at him to shut up and not say anything, just in case. The man kneeling by me ignores him, and instead dabs at the still-wet blood on my arm with a tissue. Now I'm confused; why's he cleaning me up? I assumed we were going to die.....
"Can you write?" he asks suddenly, motioning to the arm he's just finished dabbing at. For a moment I can't actually reply, considering he's motioning towards me with a fuck-off great big blade. Dammit I don't want to die!! "Well?" he presses, giving me this 'look' that indicates I had better answer right now, if not sooner.
"Uh... I..."
"Can you write with this hand?" he repeats slowly, as though maybe I'm backward. I swallow down the sudden, brief surge of anger and nod slowly. "Good." Without taking his eyes off me, or lowering that blade of his, he pulls a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket, handing them to me. Only then do I realise he's wearing gloves. No fingerprints other than mine. Shit. He then pulls a very small vial-like thing out of his pocket, and if I'd eaten recently I know I'd be throwing up right now. As it is a bitter taste rises up into my throat at the sight of it: it's clearly filled with blood. Perhaps he's noticed my expression, because a very scary smile spreads across his lips. "It's yours."
"...oh..." I don't know what else to say. I don't feel quite as ill as I did a moment ago, but I still don't feel one-hundred-percent well.
"Dip the pen in it, and sign."
Oh no. No way! That is twisted beyond belief! "If this letter goes to Tim-" I half shake my head and before I know it the tip of the blade is resting on my throat. I'd gulp if I didn't think it might just cost me my life.
"You'll do as your told," I'm warned. I tilt my head back just enough to indicate an affirmative, and the knife is removed. Thank God for that - I can breathe properly again.
Cringing to myself I do as I'm told, trying not to cry. The letter is written in beautiful handwriting, but before I get to read more than the word "nothing" the paper is yanked away from me. "There," he takes the things back from me, pocketing the vial. "That wasn't so hard now, was it? Hmm? Answer me!"
"Uh - no......." Patronising fuck... I'd retaliate if I could... If I dared...
"Now-" he cuts off as Danny flies at him, attempting to knock him over.
"Danny-!" I shriek uselessly, not really caring how stupid I sound; I just don't want him to die! With a small hiss of pain he slinks back to his corner, covering a gaping wound in his upper arm.
"Fucking moron!" The man snarls. "If I didn't have to keep you alive I'd fucking kill you now!" he cuffs Danny around the head, then thrusts the pen, paper and another vial at him. "You'd better sign this fucking fast, or I will kill you!"
"You're going to kill us anyway; what does it matter?" Danny spits in return. My blood runs cold and I bite my lip. Please Danny... Just sign it and don't make him more angry... Please...
"Just. Sign. The fucking. Letter!" The man grits.
"...Please Danny..." I hardly realise I've spoken aloud until the composer looks over and me and scowls, then does as he's told, practically throwing the things back.
"Well done." the man hisses. "Try and do it properly next time!" he walks out, slamming the door behind him. I look at Danny worriedly.
"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.
"Do I look okay?!" He snipes back. I sigh and look down.
"Sorry..."
"Don't fucking apologise!"
"Well sorry! But I can't actually help who I am! And -oh dear!- bad luck you're suck here with me and you're most likely going to end up dying here with me too so you're just going to have to lump it!" I bitch breathlessly, fear and pain making my temper more volatile than usual. "So why don't you stop bitching at me and trying to get yourself killed early and take a fucking break already?!" I add, panting slightly at the additional outburst. Danny sighs and rolls his eyes.
"Fine, fine, alright. Cool down."
"I case you haven't noticed Danny," I snipe, on a roll now, "it's fucking freezing in here."
"Heather."
"What?!"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Fine..."
Chapter 69 ; Contents ; Chapter 71
