Beretta (MC#1)

Chapter 33- Her

TW- Jare

Fire.

I'd forgotten how a knife wound felt like until now. Like being burned from the inside. Like the hot fingers of fire licking up your insides with increasing greed- on a mission to taste every. fucking. cell.

Greedy, but perhaps my only companion in this icebox of a room.

If it weren't for the red beam of the camera, I'd think they'd left me alone in this cell. Oh, what I'd give to keep them away- to keep him away.

I flinched as a crow cawed into the eery quiet of the night as it perched atop the tiny opening in the ceiling made to resemble a window. A mockery of sorts.

"Real mature, Crow"

And that's when the metal door lifted just enough for a few goons to crouch through. All dressed in matching black attire and muscles threatening to rip out.

"Right, the entourage is here. But where's the princess?", the men don't blink. I wonder if they're still breathing.

"Tsk, tsk, Beretta", the man straightens the lapels of his grey suit. "That attitude! Don't I love it?"

I just grin at his cold smile, satisfaction coursing through me at the glint of irritation that wobbles his smile. He's exactly the same as I remembered. Hair a little more grey, many new wrinkles- and the eyes that shifted colours every blink.

Dark. Light. Dark. Light. Was it the the light playing tricks? Or my drug- hazed brain? I couldn't tell. It definitely was the sadistic plans in his head though.

"Now, tell me have my men been treating you well?", a sniff as he gazed at the blood covering the walls, "Sure looks like it"

"Yeah, Benji even tried giving me a welcome gift. I returned it", I caressed the knife wound seeping blood from my side, "It was too much, really"

"Ah, Benji. He really did have a soft spot for you", He looked down at me as he sank into the chair brought in for him.

Despite almost 5 feet of space between us, it still felt like he was crowding me in. Claustrophobia. I knew what the bastard was trying, yet I still shuffled backward in my crouched position. Funny because that was the limit of the chains clasped around my wrists and there was no where to go. I was trapped.

Trapped, trapped, trapped. I was trapped.

"What the fuck did you give me?", I croaked past my parched throat.

"Uh oh, looks like you don't like it as much as all the others", his face scrunched up in concern, "its my own personal recipe. You're one of it's first tasters"

"Wh-"

"Tell me what needs work? Is it the taste?", he leaned forward while I turned my head away, "Tunnel vision? Symptoms of panic and hyperventilation?"

"Or is it the fear you taste mistaking it for 7th heaven, Beretta?"

Sweat and...tears? Covered much of my face. Matted hair and wide, drugged eyes was all he got in reply aside from something incoherent that had him chuckling.

And it was one of the rare times pure, unadulterated fear dominated my being. Because the walls were so close.

And so many people crowded into this tiny room of about 5 feet. So many men. People everywhere. And I couldn't breathe.

I kept inhaling and inhaling and inhaling while I was dying to just exhale. Just once.

"Please, I-", I clawed at my throat just bare of sinking my fingers into the tender muscle underneath and just rip, rip, rip. Then I'd be able to breathe, wouldn't I?

"Restrain her!"

And no, no, no, they were coming nearer. I thrashed and bucked but the sea of men poured over me trying to hold me under.

"Please, please, please, pl-", I screamed my throat hoarse. "Stay away!"

Someone held my head up by my hair as Crow stalked forward like the predator he was, looked me in the eye and cackled. He stood about a foot away and spit on my face as the rest of the men finished attaching some sort of contraption to prevent all movement of my arms and a few moments later I dangled from the low ceiling. I squirmed and kicked and tried everything but the chains wouldn't let up.

The men all surrounded me and I couldn't move. They were too close, too close, too close. And I couldn't move.

Crow's smirk was the last thing I saw.

I still couldn't breathe.