I swear the cold metal of the table under my hands is the only thing keeping my palms from sweating. Breathing suddenly seems like a gift rather than a necessity. Icy trails of fear curl around me like a blanket, freezing me in my chair. I battle not to be smothered by it, fighting a war to stay focused. Each movement is suddenly a struggle, each rise and fall of my lungs both a mercy and a punishment. The men's eyes turn empty, the pitch black singing my demise.
My heart says to fight till the end but evidently the brain has something different in mind.
"What's your name?" I cling to those words like a raft in a storm, a plank of wood in the turmoil of my mind.
"Girl?" I hear one say and my open palms become fists as I grasp for an inkling of reality. The one time so desperately I need my brain, I fall into the deep dark pit of my thoughts. A cold sweat drips down my forehead and I register this with little recognition of what it actually is. The men's words are like a distant buzzing and I start to lose grip on consciousness.
It's funny how battling my thoughts is a physical effort. I gave up so easily. Father did call me weak. How he's right.
I don't notice the tight grip on my wrist until suddenly I do. What is this? I hear the voice, the burn of the hand on my bare skin and the world simmers into my view. The man-servant is there, his eyes a vibrant blue, his lips forming words.
"That's it, there we go. See, was that hard? Now flex your hand for me." Automatically I stop digging my nails into my palm and the relief is evident as the man smiles. He stands up again, sitting next to the Captain once more.
"How..?" I croak out and I watch as they glance at each other. Even in a rumbled state, I take mental note of this. Interesting.
"You had a panic attack it seems. No wonder, the amount of adrenaline you amassed today would be huge," The captain responds. I don't bother to tell him this is an after-effect of the high. Immediately, my hopes falter once more. They see me as weak. Nevertheless I smile gratefully.
"I owe you both my thanks and more. But I cannot waste another moment. I understand you are part of the rebels?" Once again they both look at each other. The silent argument is quick but obvious. I hope, I pray they trust me. Because if I went through that for nothing...
"We are," the Captain says. I raise my eyebrows.
"We?" The reaction is instant. Both faces become distant, detached. But it's too late.
Men aren't servants. That role is reserve for the women. So why is he here? Piece by piece I solve that. How they sit side by side, like equals. The quick wit in the servants eyes, not the dead hopelessness. The silent communication. It was quite simple really.
"Look," I say. "I don't really care what you two are, I'm not going to tell anyone. Saints, who would I tell? All I want to know if you will help. Because I've got one hell of a plan."
And while their shoulders droop a little, their face become a little more human, the tension in the air only grows. I'm not asking something little and they know it. If I thought I played my last card earlier, I was so wrong. But I wait, staying as still as I can as they choose. I can see it playing out in their eyes. The fierceness in the man-servants eyes, the caution in the Captains. They turn towards me.
"We will not help." And with that one sentence, my world shattered. I hear their apologies like a buzz in the background as I try so desperately to comprehend how far I had come just for something so little to destroy it all. I take a deep breath. I knew this could happen. Accept it. And so I say its ok and even offer a weak smile as I get escorted out of the room.
"Can-can I just ask one thing?" I mumble as I walk down the porch stairs.
"Of course," the servant says, his eyes genuinely forlorn, staying with the Captain by the door.
"What are your names?" I feel like they deserve to have an actually identity rather than a title.
"I'm Lupin," the servant replies. "And this is Adan."
"Ida," I tell them and with a wave, I pull up my hood and walk down the street towards the dark alleys, towards the Shack.
And so the sun goes down along with my hopes, taking my fractured heart with it.
Two posts in two days, what's this? I cannot stop writing so here's a new chapter. <3
Ok so I've got a lot of some cutesy fluff coming up and it's gay... so there's your warning I guess. Me, personally, am absolutely loving writing it and some bits is pretty crucial to the plot so yeah. Chapter 10/11 is where it's going to get serious so if you are going to skip reading it then keep an eye out for that but of course there's still gonna be romance... I just hope you will stick around... :)
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Trapped
Fantasia"I came here for one reason and one reason alone. To kill the king and take his kingdom for my own. " ------ Vreca has one mantra. Control. Over other countries, over food and its people. But especially over women. In a world where women are deemed...
