"Think you can take me?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me?" She answered.
//
Natalie Perkins, born in London. The FBI is after her for the assassination of fourteen men. All of them brutally murdered one day of the week, all of them left wi...
Do your dirt, make your mark My heart is a church of scars That's hallowed ground Break my skin, crack my skull My holy land still grows
TW: descriptive torture and violence
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I was trying my best not to seem worried, but it was hard.
You can't ask me to act normal when my girlfriend had a concussion and the first thing that popped in her mind was going out to stargaze. I knew she was dizzy and it was too soon for her to stand up all at once, but the way she practically begged for it shattered my heart.
Concussion nausea and visual blurriness isn't supposed to last longer than ten minutes, which was why I knew her current dizziness wasn't result of the blow. She was acting on an empty stomach and barely any sleep, and the commotion wasn't exactly a good addition on top of it all.
Rushing her way out of the house seemed to help her, even though her eyes were practically closing on their own and she would stumble a bit whenever she moved abruptly.
Her temporary amnesia didn't seem strong either. I assumed she had already remembered everything, given the fact she wasn't suspecting her surroundings anymore. But she still didn't look the same.
She had the wound under ice the whole time and, even though I knew it'd bruise or even scar, there was really not much blood. It wasn't serious, let alone deadly, but the concern deep in my chest wasn't budging.
I also saw the way she looked at the shattered glass on the floor too. Maybe she was staring at the blood, which was the option I was choosing to believe, but I couldn't help but feel a bit worried. I had no idea what she was thinking about, but the thoughts that flashed my mind weren't kind at all.
We had tied up the remaining man to a chair, waiting for him to wake up in order to ask him some questions. Alex was sure he knew them, which was fueling our theory about this men being sent by him and Alissa's boss.
Natalie stayed sitting on the couch with an ice bag on her hand, eyeing us suspiciously every now and then. She had somehow convinced me to let her do the whole torturing part, which I refused in the beginning given the state she was in. It took three seconds for her to have me wrapped around her finger.
She had been awfully quiet and that was starting to freak me out, she wasn't the kind to stay quiet.
I knew she was still sore, she hadn't moved much but everytime she did, the action was followed by a small whimper. Her voice was hoarse too, and I actually felt kinda bad for it. If I knew five armed men would've broken into our house right after, then I would've never done anything with her.
And I would be lying if I said I didn't notice the way she was acting after she woke up. She didn't say anything about it, but I was sure she was having a bad dream given how she was sweating and panting desperately for air.
