The Berserker

Chapter 24

Quiet. It was very quiet. Unnervingly quiet. I always hated the silence. It meant something very wrong had happened.

"Where am I?"  I asked barely cutting through it.

No one answered.

Sitting up, I noticed the change of clothes, a long sleeve black shirt that hung loosely and sweatpants. They were men's, but none that I had bought to share with Peyton. The shirt's shoulders were too loose for it to be his, plus we never bought anything with weird graphic letters M.I.B. The sweatpants were longer, covering my ankles comfortably which was a feat in itself since most fell short of my ankles.

The bedroom was simple: a wide bed, a dresser and a chest of drawers. No other furniture. To the far end of the right corner, there was a door, faint voices coming through where some light shone under the crack. Testing my legs first, I creeped towards it. Two male, one female from what I could hear, and another more pitched voice. It was still too muffled to tell, but it did sound like a kid's. A shadow moved in the corner bringing my attention to the open window, hidden by drapes. Pulling one aside, cool drafts washed over while a red brick wall loomed before me. Looking down, it seemed I was on the second floor of this unknown house.

I needed to leave, I decided as the bedroom door opened. The man paused momentarily, setting the tray down. The memories came back like wave, and I was pissed. Peeking out briefly, he closed the door, so I closed the distance, making a move.

"I'm glad you're awake -"

Kicking the back of his knees, he slammed into the door groaning. Red coloured my vision as I dragged him off, jabbing his nose.

I had trusted him and this bastard stabbed me with a SYRINGE!

The attack disoriented Nathaniel, but I was far from finished. Pinning him down, my arm snaked around one of his ready to snap, yet he was quicker in throwing me off.

I let him into my home when he asked for a place to stay!

I collided with the wall, the room basically a cage. Nathaniel moved towards me, and I kicked out, connecting with his crotch which brought him to his knee. Using the wall as support, body still feeling the after effects, I growled.

I agreed to help him, foolishly believing that our common goal made him complacent enough!

"Wait -"

He caught my second kick, and then yanked me to him. Dots interrupted the red haze when my head hit the floor, giving him enough time to sit on me, arms pinned underneath.

"Stop it!" he ordered as I struggled to find purchase to throw him off.

Forearm pressing against my throat, his legs trapped mine, the full weight of his two hundred pounds keeping me mostly immobile. Glaring, I hit his jaw, but it was weak, enraging him more.

"Arrête avant que je te donne à nouveau des sédatifs!" he yelled, pressing harder on my windpipe, and I stilled.

Our heavy breathing mingled as I processed what he said. He had given me a sedative, not poison. Same difference though when it came to how many drugs were shoved into me.

Narrowing my eyes suspiciously scowling, Nathaniel whispered, "Si je voulais ta mort, tu serais. So, please," he switched to English, "stop and listen."

I maintained my glare yet did not move. He had a point.  If he wanted me dead, I would be. I hated it when he had a point. Testing his hold, I jerked a leg, but Nathaniel barely rocked, and instead jabbed his thumb into my newest bullet wound. Clenching my teeth, a guttural snarl was my response.