【Kidnapping 绑架】Chapter 7
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The moment they shut the door, he flopped down on his knees, holding his right arm. The pain was claiming every inch of his nerve, all the strength he managed to gather just now went out like the tide.
Darcy scrambled to him, steadied him by holding his shoulders. “Are you alright?” Dark eyes searching on him, she gave no attention to her own condition. She looked like a mess, lips bleeding, hair tangled, bruised collarbone revealed from the ripped clothes.
He himself could not be any better. His pale face still distorted for the re-broken of his wrist, and not until a wisp of blood dropping into his eye he realized his left brow ridge was cracked. That bastard must hit him in the face when he passed out.
“Just my wrist...” She put his left arm around her shoulder. Holding each other up, they stumbled towards the bed. He was leaning against her now, being comforted by her brace, her sleeve wiped away the blood around his eye.
It was what it was, wasn’t it? She and he, looking after each other in turn. Who else did they have? Who else could they depend on?
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I can’t let’em...” he mumbled, didn’t finish the sentence. Would it work? He shouted those words in the heat of the moment. Obviously, it was a lie easy to see through. She couldn’t really be his girlfriend. But that was fine. What he attempted to do was to show the kidnappers that he wanted to save the girl and would like to take their price for her. As for the reason he’d do that, whatever it was, they did not need to care.
He was no religious man, yet now with all his heart, he prayed. Please let it work. Please. For the love of God, let them buy it...
His thoughts drifted to the myths. If Isis prayed enough, would Osiris escape from Set’s tricky coffin? If Achilles prayed enough, would Patroclus defeat Hector? If Frigg prayed enough, would Loki let her beloved son Balder alone? And if Loki, the one in his dream, prayed enough, would the fate spare Sigyn from the serpent?...
“No matter it works or not... I won’t let them have their way on me.”
Her words pulled his thoughts back.
He forgot. His Sigyn did not pray, she fought. To the brink of ruin. Then so would he. She had fought for him, and he would fight for her by all means. He’d negotiate, mediate, bribe, bootlick, do smiling...and fight. If the worst of the worst became inevitable, he would fight, with both his arms, the good one and the broken, just as the way he hold her tightly.
Once again, the door was unlocked. They didn’t move this time, just holding each other.
Those two men were back. “Look at this, Eh?” the one with fixed nose snorted at the scene of them, “Like a real couple, huh?”
“What did your boss say,” he snapped.
“Boss wanna see you, both of you,”
His heart flipped. Did it actually work? If he could talk to the boss-man face to face, there would be a greater chance to dispel his doubts about this deal. Still holding each other, they stood up.
“...after you clean yourselves up. Tut-tut, you guys look terrible. We kinda responsible for that though.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“C’mon, it’s time to take a nice, hot shower,”
“What?”
“Move! Both of you!” they waited at the door.
What trick was this?
Darcy’s hand slid into his, pressing softly, and he hold on back tight. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Lead the way.”
They went up stairs. For the first time, they saw the daylight out of a window. It was still dark outside, but there was a wisp of dim grey hanging around the late autumn sky. Strange, yet wonderful, the deepest darkness and the most promising lightness lived in harmony for the moment.
They were shoved in front of a small, plain bathroom. The light was on, filling the room with dusky orange.
“It’s not exactly like your luxury film-star bathroom, but you have to make do with it.”
He turned to her. “You go first, I’ll wait outside.” he managed a reassuring smile.
“Wait,” one of them chimed in, pretending to sound thoughtfully, “You’re a couple, aren’t ya? Why don’t you two shower together?” both of them grinned maliciously. “What’d you think, lover boy? I say it would be romantic.”
Warm blood welled up on his cheek. They wanted to make fun of us.
“Too shy, eh? Haven’t you ever been naked with your girlfriend yet? Or maybe I can do it for you, I’ll give the lady a proper shower myself.”
“Don’t you even dream about it,” Darcy snapped and spitted at the lewd man. In a split second, the man seized her by the throat and pressed her against the wall. “A lady with temper, H’m?”
“LET HER GO!” he pushed himself in front of the fierce man, glowering at him. The hand loosed, and she breathed heavily beside him.
He took her hand, gently dragging her inside. They would get over it, he thought. As he attempting to shut the bathroom door, however, the man leaned against it. He wore on a brazen smile while playing with a gun in his hand.
“You’ll take off your clothes in front of us.”
Dirty trick. Bastards... They were simply determined to humiliate us. They were looking for an excuse to hurt.
He looked towards her. Don't be impulsive, pleading with his eyes, he felt ashamed.
Those dark eyes flickered, then fell. So he took her with him, got farther away from where the men were standing. “Stay behind me,” he softly whispered.
He reached out his left hand to strip off his sweater, couldn’t help humming when trying to get rid of the right sleeve. She helped silently, her movement was tender. Then she turned around without looking at him, taking off her shoes first, her jacket next, then the ripped blouse, revealing the bare skin underneath. His breathing quickened involuntarily.
There were bruises on her shoulder too, purplish-blue, lying across the smooth skin. She was shivering slightly, but he could tell it was not because the room was a bit chilly. Though the room was small and they were not very far from the bullies, he was sure only him heard the soft sobbing of hers.
The fossa between her shoulder blades was changing shape with her movements.
He shouldn’t stare, he told himself. So he bent down to loose his shoelaces, then his belt. She too went for her jeans.
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