A love like ours ✔️

♛37.The tea cup

Soraya

A creaking door on the hallway makes me jolt awake from my fragile sleep. For a moment I'm confused about where I am, but then I remember.

I'm tired, so damn tired. I don't know whether it's been weeks or months since I've been down here. There's no natural light so I have no way to tell the time.

I miss the fresh air, the feeling of sun beams on my skin, and the blue sky. I miss decent food, a long hot bath, and an actual matress. This hay cot I'm sitting on it's making my skin itch.

More that anything, I miss my freedom.

It's quiet down here, so quiet and so dark. It's like the cold nothingness of the universe has surrounded me, preparing to claim my soul, to swallow me whole and turn me back into the star dust we've all been created from. Perhaps I should surrender to it.

I hear heavy footsteps getting closer to my cell. They're here to take me back to the interogation room. I will not cry or scream or beg. I don't know for how much longer I can take it, but I'll kill myself before I let them break me, before they get the chance to use me to bring down the ones I love the most.

If I ever escape, they will all curse the day they've been born. This is my vow.

I hear them shuffle with the locks on the door and I know that to stay sane, to feel less like a victim, I need to try to fight them off even though I can deploy my full set of skills. It will earn me a harsh punishment but if I'll feel like I've regained a part of myself what's a few more bruises?

I get to my feet and stick to the wall and when the door opens I attack the man who's entered the room.

I act quickly, kicking him to back him against the wall, only to discover he was stupid enough to come in here alone and armed. This is my chance.

The man speaks but his words don't register. I'm to focused on my task.

I grab his dagger and prepare to cut the Irish man's throat. He brings his palm up blocking the blade. Warm blood strats to pour out of his hand. And he kick's me into the stomach to make me back off.

I take several steps back because of the impact and I as I'm already preparing to make my next move, I'm snapped back to reality by both the pain and his voice as he tries to defend himself. This time I hear him.

"Soraya, stop! It's me."

I blink once, twice, and as realisation sets in, I lower the blade. I'm not in Ireland, I'm not being torured and trained to be sex slave. I knew this situation will mess with my mind. I've fucking lost touch with the present. I was afraid to go to sleep because of the nightmares, but this is so much worse. I'm going crazy.

The light from the hallway helps me take a look at the dark frame of Salvador's strong body.

"I'm sorry. I-... you should have turned the light on."

"What the hell was that all about? You broke your role." He growls.

"I know."

"You fucking attacked me. What were you thinking? What if it were someone other than me? Your cover up story would have been blown up"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly." He snaps and I throw the dagger at his head, almost grazing his ear. The metal clatters as it males contact with the stone wall, and then with the floor.

"Don't belittle me! It's your fault that I'm in here in the first place." I warn. " You should wrap that hand up. I don't want you bleeding all over the floors of my fine accommodation suite. It's unsanitary."