Angel of Mercy

Capture

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I breathed in some noxious substance he'd rubbed over his hands. The acrid stench assaulted my nostrils, making my head swim and dark spots clouded my vision. I realised to late that my consciousness was slipping away, like sand through careless fingers.

I awoke in the woods near the prison. I looked around, not entirely sure what to do, run, scream, beg for my life? Instead I decided to do the logical thing. Smile serenely until I came up with an escape plan that would actually work. Speaking of, how had Owin escaped? There were people around, lots of them, and a mad man carrying an unconscious girl was bound to attract attention.

I took in a deep breath and smiled at Owin, before speaking in my softest, most gentle voice (the I privately thought made me sound depraved, but seemed to work),

'Hello Owin,' he looked at me, clearly shocked by my calm demeanor. He smiled back,

'You probably have hundreds of questions for me,' he gave a light chuckle, as though my kidnapping was a mildly amusing joke.

I took a deep breath and decided on a question he was likely to answer,

'Why did you take me Owin, how did you take me?'

His eyes were filled with fire and his with passion as he explained his (probably heaven sent) 'mission'.

'Oh Angel, you are my guarantee, when the group sees that I have captured an actual Angel they will attack this government. This society that we live, this evil society, devoid of choice, of hope for a better life, will be replaced by a true government, with the people's wants and needs placed above all over things'

Oh lovely, I've been kidnapped by a rebel.

Trying not to laugh at his ludicrous speech, I thought it best not to ask how he'd managed to take me. Instead I smied and nodded as though the things he was saying were perfectly normal and not deranged.

I opened my small leather bag wondering if it contained anything of use to me.Disappointingly, it only contained my Angel uniform, my ballet uniform and a hairbrush, and had been rifled through already so anything I could have made in to some kind of pseudoweapon had already been removed. Owin, who seemed kind of shocked at my acceptance of his message, looked kind of guilty. He opened his mouth to explain, then clearly thought better of it and dug up a stash of supplies an action that almost made me think he was halfway organised. He then started a small fire and prepared to fry some meat.

Deciding against telling him, that his fire was nowhere near hot enough to cook anything, I waited for him to stared swearing frustratedly as his dish refused to cook. I was not disappointed.

As the stream of obscenities grew more and more outrageous, so did my (contrived) expression of horror. Finally he looked up, swore violently and apologized. Of course, being the sweetheart that I am, I gracefully accepted this apology, stifling the laughter that was just waiting to break through my carefully schooled expression of rather patronising understanding. I felt like a primary school teacher, listening to the rambling excuse of a six year old who has been mean to their 'bestie'.

After giving up on the meat, Owin collapsed in a heap and started snoring. I stood up, picked up my bag, stole one of his water bottles and started the short hike back to the city.