𝒀𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 | the punisher
" she's become like you frank. she's sees a threat, she feels the need to eliminate it."
and you know for you i'd bleed myself dry
for you i'd bleed myself dry
HIGHEST RANK: #1 in karen page
...
:･ | YELLOW | :･ ･ﾟ ♡︎ — act ii. man of many names
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CHAPTER NINE — how to get away with murder
❀
It had been about nine and a half hours since Curt had dragged me from the sordid halls of that abandoned building.
Nine and half hours since I was shaken by the blaring sounds of police sirens and Curt's panicked voice telling me to move as I wriggled in his tight grip. Not able to protest verbally anymore due to the stabbing pain in my throat as he tried his best to keep me under controll
"He'll be fine. I promise we'll get him back but we have to go."
Nine and a half hours and I'm still back flat against some earth old covers. The swift blade of the switch knife in my hand oscillating with each tactical flick of my wrist.
"You alive there?"
"Clearly." I say raspily, resisting reacting to the sharp pain that was scratching at the back of my throat, itching to make itself known and my life worse then it already is.
According to Curt's subtly professionalattempt at nursing, I had a bruised windpipe. Which meant I wasn't allowed to talk until I'm fixed up. Which meant I couldn't blow his eardrums out the way I wanted to oh so badly right now.
I felt no need to try and answer his question, the erratic movement of the knife in my hand being proof enough that I hadn't smothered myself with the raggedy old pillow that had been lodged between my head and the mattress to prevent any further swelling in my throat through elevation.
"Well." He exhaled deeply with his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he scanned the room. As depressing as this whole situation may be for you. I finally have some inherently good news.
"You see, I can't take you to see Frank, to risky. Especially for me Homeland is already on my ass as is. But Karen on the other hand." He pauses for a moment with a hopeful nod. "Well you know her, she's gonna see him whether him or anyone likes it or not."
"She wanted to see you first though. So you do me a favor and before Karen shows up, and I'll let you go." The older man demanded softly before leaning back a bit. His hand reaching behind the narrowed doorway of the room—the wooden structure separating the bed from the kitchen—and grabbing a pitch black mug by its rim from the rocky old table to his left.
"Don't be a brat." Curt's tone was both stern and joking as he handed me the semi-reflective black cup in his hand that was filled to the brim with a familiar scorching hot liquid. "And drink this. Frank would knock my damn head off if I let that throat of yours get worse."
