Torneró

32

Carter's POV:

I wake up with the room spinning all around me, my vision is blurry and I can barely see what is right in front of me. My head throbs from the area where that fucking bastard struck me. I lift up my hand to rub the area, it's wet where the blood seeps out. There's a dark figure in the middle of the room, it blends in with the background. But once my eyes finally adjust, I'm able to squint and make out who the figure is.

It's Sylvie.

I throw my body forward, but I'm stopped by my arm being held back, feeling as if its about to rip off. A loud cluttering sound echos through the silent room from the strain. I turn head around, my wrist is wrapped around by a steel handcuff that attaches to the wall behind it. 

I gaze around the room, analysing the stained cement walls and dusty floor, searching for a way out. On the other end of the room remains another figure. Katherine is unconscious as she leans against the wall, her hand cuffed to the wall just as mine is. Her usually perfect, dark hair remains in a bush behind her neck. Blood stains her clothes and skin and her body is black and blue with bruises and cuts.

My head feels as though my brain is banging against my skull, my arm aches from a lack of blood flowing to it, as it's held above my head. As for my body, it's numb.

The steel door slams open, causing Sylvie to wake up with a jolt as she stares at the man by the door. Marcel stands with the lighting shadowing over his body and face. Only one white light strip brightens the room, the one that's placed over Sylvie's head.

Marcel begins to walk towards us, a man following behind him. As they walk into the light, my brain instantly recognises him as Enzo. He attempts to hold an expressionless face, yet his eyes deceive him. I can tell that he feels guilty, or atleast some type of retraint, he doesn't want to be here but he is also afraid.

He stares down at Sylvie with an expression I recognise, love.

But it's not the same type of way that I love her, for him it's nothing sexual. He loves the person Sylvie is, while I'm in love with Sylvie. He mumbles something under his breath, what I'm guessing is an apology of some sort. Marcel lifts his leg, kicking Sylvie as she scrambles to find her feet.

"Good, you're awake" he smiles sarcastically at her.

Sylvie stands up, wiping her hand down her dusty shirt and turning around the room. Her eyes widen when she spots Katherine and I, tears filling her waterline. "Don't cry, bitch", Marcel wraps his hand forcefully around Sylvie's jaw, forcing her to stare into his wicked eyes. "I will not be having any creation of mine cry like a little girl", he releases Sylvie's face with aggression, watching as she stumbles back.

My body fills with adrenal, anger fuelling my desperation to kill him, slowly and painfully. Marcel lowers his hands to behind his back, grabbing his gun and lifting it to Sylvie's head.

Fuck, no.

I work harder and faster, attempting to break out of these cuffs exactly the way I had been taught whilst growing up. Some people may have been taught their ABC's and how to be kind, I was taught how to kill and break out of handcuffs. Obviously, I still know my ABCs though, I'm not that dumb.

Katherine opens her eyes weakly, staring at me as I struggle to fight the steel lock. I lift a finger to my lips, hushing her before she begins to speak. Her eyes land on her father and Sylvie, staring at them in disbelief.

Right, she didn't know about her father.

"Pick which one goes" he orders, Sylvie turns around, eyeing both Katherine and I before turning back to her father. "Why are you doing this?" she questions loudly, though her voice breaks. "What happened to make you this way" she cries. Marcel's knuckles turn white as he grips around his gun even tighter.