Save Me

3- Familiar Hands

Stumbling down corridor after corridor, I scream and fight as I am dragged to my doom. Whichever man is waiting out there to purchase me, I know in my heart that the end will always be the same, with my death.

The men who have dragged me to my execution suddenly leave me and a new man appears. Unlike the others, whose countenance and attire suggested that they were mercenaries, paid thugs, this man is dressed in a smart suit, a smarmy and slimy expression on his face.

Before I even have a chance to react in my drugged dazed, bemused state, I find a collar clipped tight around my throat.

"Such a pretty face," he croons as he lifts a clammy finger to stroke at my cheek.

I jerk out of his reach, even barely conscious I am still repulsed by this man's touch.

"You will make me rich tonight," he gloats, "now. Come!"

He yanks at the leash attached to my neck, making me wretch and wheeze, and I feel myself once again powerless as I am pulled out into blinding lights.

"This next specimen is a most delectable little temptress. A natural blonde standing at 5'8."

I hear murmurs but the blinding lights shining down on me blur the rest of the words. There are more and more descriptions of my body but I can barely breathe.

Staggering and swaying on my feet, I suddenly feel the tightness of the leash around my throat disappear. Stumbling backwards, my head spinning, my senses pounding, I brace my wounded body for impact, but none comes.

Warm hands grip at my waist from behind, catching me. Familiar hands.

Letting out a whimper, I feel myself being swept up into the air and leaning against the hard chest of the man who owns my heart.

"It's alright, Stellina," his voice murmurs in my ear, "I've got you now. You're safe."

Practically sobbing by this point, I hear the world alive with flashes of guns and alight with fire. Burying my face in Enzo's chest, I try desperately to block out the noise.

With my head feeling as if it is going to explode, I close my eyes, trusting that Enzo will keep me safe, and allow my body to finally rest.

She staggers onto the stage, dragged by her throat. It makes my blood boil as I see the sight of her drugged body stumbling and swaying, squinting and terrified against the blinding lights.

Anger and rage take over me as I give the order for hell to descend on these sorry excuses for humans.

Bullets immediately explode in the room, blood spurts and fires around me. Instantly, I move, heading for my love as she chokes on the tight collar on her throat.

I pounce on the auctioneer, the one hurting my Lucy, and snap his neck before he can even scream. Dropping his body with a thud, I watch as Lucy's body finally gives up.

Leaping into action, I catch her before she can fall, cradling her close to my body. She's so drugged, so dazed, so beaten, I half expect her to scream at my contact, but she seems to recognise or remember my touch because she whimpers her weakly before beginning to sob.

Hauling her up in my arms, I cradle her body from the bullets wizzing in the room and carry her from this hell hole.

Leaving the fire and carnage behind me, I stride out, shielding my love from the world, and head for the car waiting for us.

"Drive." I bark out before tenderly cradling the unconscious woman in my arms.

Finally safe, I allow my adrenaline to drop and stare down at Lucy's battered face. Stroking my thumb across her cheek, a frown furrows my brow as I brush gently over a bruise on her cheek.

How anyone could harm such an innocent thing is beyond me.

Seeing Lucy stagger onto the stage, being leered at in that dreadful lilac bra set by filthy men did something to me. I don't think the rage will ever leave me. The streets could run with blood and the need for vengeance wouldn't be sated.

Lucy stirs slightly, whimpering in her sleep as she presses her face tighter against my chest.

"It's alright my darling," I murmur softly in Italian, "I've got you now, you're safe."

She mumbles something unintelligible in her sleep and at first I can't make out what she's saying, but then she repeats it again, clearer.

"Enzo..." she mumbles and murmurs, tossing and turning in discomfort.

"I'm here, gorgeous." I comfort, at this moment powerless to help her, or give her any real reassurance.

"Hurts..." she groans weakly before her breathing becomes deeper again.

"I know it does, baby." I stroke my hand up and down her arm, "but I'll help you, I've got you now."

Something catches my eye as my stroking dislodged her ratty hair. Brushing it aside I see angry bruises and needle puncture wounds covering her neck.

I knew that they had drugged her, everything about her showed me she was, but to actually realises that they attacked her with needles, it makes my stomach churn.

All I can think about is how terrified Lucy must have been. I don't even know how long she's been like this and it makes me hate myself.

I should have been with her. If I had just talked to her, been open with her, shared my burden with her, we could have had the last 5 years together, and she wouldn't be lying, bruised and broken, in my arms.

I've cost us everything, my happiness and her safety, but I've got her back now, and I'll do anything I can to win her back.