Guilty Pleasure

Twenty: Not so dead

Emily

Scrunching my nose, a shallow aching pressed against the inside of my forehead wanting to break free very soon. As per usual, my right hand reached up to lean its colder palm to the flaming heat of my skin, but a firm burning rubbed along my wrist, holding it in place.

I had cracked open my eyes quite immediately and the scene I was offered left me unable to think, talk or even breathe. That smell should have been rather obvious itself and yet here I found myself tied to a chair again, medical supplies and clean walls surrounding me.

The walls were not strangely high or shaped, nor were the pillars formed in any way I could have located where I was. Was I still in Quantico? Still in the States?

There was still a pinch of faith leading every breath my lungs took the following moments. Faith in waking up next to Jean, wrapped into the sheets of our bed and her eyes staring down at me. Warm hands embracing my face and her legs straddling my lap as she, full of concern, searched for answers of the nightmare in my eyes. I would tell her it was fine now that I was with her and she still would not drop the topic, because she was the most stubborn woman I had ever allowed into my life. Soothing words would follow once I eventually gave in on her, feeling the weight of my past being shifted off of my chest.

A cellar, I reminded myself at the sight of a small window somewhere at the wall to my right. I moved the chair along the floor by moving forward a bit. The linoleum floor underneath screeched and a shudder ran down my spine as I sensed the man behind me.

"Took you a while to catch me," I had stated, before he had a chance to voice a word.

The radiated heat from his body came in contact with my shoulders. His palms were back on my body and even when I once confused this for kindness I would not ever dare to make the same mistake again. Shoulders shaking off his touch, I was dazzled to find him withdrawn.

He lingered like an animal behind me, silence being his weapon so far. Effective I had to admit, yet nothing I could not handle. I got this.

Pressure was something I worked perfectly fine under.

Though, when the man came to a hold in front of my chair, I couldn't help but relive the deja vu. A much darker room, dirt and mold lingering in the air and burned flesh adding to the mixture, once he branded me. Pain, darkness and freezing coldness embraced me.

Features aged greatly from the last time we had seen each other granted my strength to re-build. If he was not the only one growing older, it was possible another weakness threw itself to my feet.

He showed that crooked smile of his. The one I had almost fallen for.

"Go on, Emily." Doyle wiggled his brows once and at the sound of his accent more memories unleashed. "Ask."

My eyes squinted as my teeth crashed together. He would expect it if I withhold my curiosity. Make the unexpected happen.

My jaw loosened and I exhaled easily. "I saw you dying. Declan saw it. Your death—"

I was muted with his amused laughter. He kept going until the joke had worn off, which ever one it was.

Was this delightful to him? A silly joke? Nonetheless, such behavior was not unusual for him sadly. Doyle's sadistic traits would not allow him to actually find peace in comfort as regular people. No, this man got off on games of power and dominance. It was an easy play to manipulate him the first time. He did certainly not expect it and even when the evidence was given he did not want to believe it. Admitting to a mistake on his side would not happen so easily, if at all.