as fragile as a dandelion

a plan

August's POV

It's been a week since they took Two. A week since they dragged her away, screaming and sobbing and fighting. For a week I haven't seen her beautiful face or emerald eyes. A week of staying up every single night trying to figure out how to get her back. I've never missed someone so much. I barely know her but it doesn't feel like that. My heart is in pain. I can't even imagine what she's going through. Because of me.

This is my fault. This is all my fault. I should have stayed with her, made sure she didn't go anywhere. I should never have let her go to the rumble. I should never have fallen in love with her.

What's worse is the daily reminder of her, her brother, Cameron. He's like Two, with strawberry blonde hair, but he has gray-blue eyes and is 5 years older. He came secretly after the rumble to the warehouse, asking if he could join us. He swears he wants to help. To rebel against his dad and the treatment of Two. No one trusts him for shit, but he's persistent. He says he'll do whatever it takes and that Two has been treated awfully for far too long. He's been locked a room until we get Two back.

And we will get her back.

•••

Two's POV

I glared at the dark figure in the corner. I was in a tiny room with cement floors and a cement ceiling. All but one wall were cement too, that one wall had a wooden door with a window in it, and another window next to the door with the shades drawn. It smelled like dust and stale cigarettes. The door always had someone next to it, in a plastic lawn chair, which was the only piece of furniture in the room aside from a rock hard pillow and an old, raggedy blanket.

I was sitting against the farthest wall from the door, propped up against it. My chest and rib cage ached so much that it brought tears to my eyes if I moved. My face was sore, bruised, and swollen. I could feel the places where my leg was shattered, despite the cast. I was too weak to do anything because I hadn't eaten in a week. At least I think it's been a week. I have no way of knowing.

The figure by the door startled as there was a hard knock. I flinched at the sudden noise. The chair squeaked against the floor as the figure stood up. He unlocked and opened the door. I squinted against the sudden light.

Shit. No. No. No. It's not. It can't be.

He grinned maliciously at me, revealing a mouth that was missing more than a few teeth.

He licked his lips, "Ya missed me darling?" Turning to the figure, "I'll take from here Curtis, don't come back for a couple hours." He winked.

After slamming the door and locking it, he walked over, towering over me. His hair was thinning and his beard hadn't been shaven in 3 weeks, at least. He had watery brown eyes the color of swamp mud and a fat, wide nose that took up half of his face. He was wearing old jeans and a hole-filled faded blue t-shirt.

He spat on my face. "Ya missed good ole' Gary, baby girl?"

I kept my face neutral, not bringing him the satisfaction of knowing he scared me almost as much as my dad. I wiped the spit off my cheek.

"I missed you too, ya little slut." He said, crouching down, his foul breath overcoming me.

"Go to hell Gary." I whispered.