Against the clock

17.

Mer's pov

Four days dragged on in a heavy fog of exhaustion and minimal conversation. We'd been stuck in this hellhole for two weeks now, and I despised every minute of it. Home felt like a distant dream, and we were no closer to figuring out why we were being kept here or what these sickos wanted from us.

They switched up their routine, bringing food in the morning and allowing a bathroom break then as well, as if that made this nightmare any more bearable. Derek found himself chained up again, because it was easier to rape me if he was locked up. They ditched their every-other-day schedule, opting for a relentless daily cycle of raping. Gustaph on day one, followed by the older guy on day 2, and then Derek on day 3. Yes, they made us go through it again.

As I was still half-asleep, the sound of chains rattling brought me to a drowsy awareness. Derek, still shackled, looked at me with weary eyes that held a blend of frustration and helplessness. 'How's your leg holding up?' he asked, the words hanging in the air like a fragile bridge between us. I didn't expect him to talk. We hadn't exchanged more than a few words in a couple of days. The heavy silence had become a companion, its presence weighing on us like an unspoken acknowledgment of the horrors we endured.

'It's not getting any better,' I replied, my voice a mere whisper in the stillness of our shared misery. The wounds, both physical and emotional, festered in the oppressive atmosphere of our captivity. Derek's jaw clenched, a subtle tension tightening the lines on his face. He glanced down at the ground, the metal restraints a stark symbol of our powerlessness. 'I wish there was something I could do,' he muttered, frustration tainting his words.

I glanced wearily at Derek, my voice breaking the heavy silence that hung between us like a suffocating fog. 'There isn't. The bullet just has to come out so it can heal properly.' The helplessness in his gaze mirrored my own, a silent acknowledgment of the cruel reality we faced. 'But it hurts you,' he replied, a note of anguish in his voice. I nodded, the pain etched on my face mirroring the agony in my leg. 'I know. But we can't change it,' I said, my voice carrying a resigned acceptance. The room seemed to close in around us, the stark walls bearing witness to the inescapable torment.

I could see the struggle in Derek's eyes as he attempted to broach a topic we had avoided discussing for days. 'Does it hurt when we have to? You know,' he asked tentatively, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, contemplating the delicate balance between honesty and shielding him from more anguish. 'Yes, it hurts,' I admitted finally, the weight of the truth settling in the dimly lit room. 'Only the leg hurts during it. Nothing else,' I clarified, wanting to assure Derek that, despite the physical pain, he wasn't causing me any additional pain down there, unlike the other two. A faint chuckle escaped Derek's lips, a bittersweet sound that echoed through the room. 'Well, at least there's something I'm not completely ruining,' he joked, a momentary respite from the grim reality we faced.

Despite the laughter, he posed a serious question: 'Why don't you let me kiss you?' Derek's inquiry cut through the momentary lightness, his eyes reflecting genuine curiosity. He had attempted to kiss me during those dreadful moments on two occasions, and both times, I had refused, turning my head away. 'I mean, it could make it 'better,' maybe more comfortable,' he added, his voice carrying a mix of vulnerability. I met Derek's gaze, the weight of the question hanging in the air. 'It's - I don't know,' I replied softly, my voice tinged with a sadness that permeated the room. 'It's about... I can't. It feels like cheating, Derek. Cheating towards your wife,' I confessed, the admission heavy on my conscience.

Derek's eyes held a mix of understanding and regret as my words settled in the air. He sighed, the heavy weight of our shared burden pressing down on both of us. 'I get it, Meredith. I do,' he said, his voice carrying a solemn sincerity. 'But if there's anything I can do to make it a bit more bearable for you, then I want to do it.' The chains clinked softly as Derek shifted, the sound a haunting reminder of our captivity. His gaze lingered on me, a silent promise of solidarity amidst the nightmare. 'But if you can't, I understand. I don't want to push you into something that feels wrong for you,' he added, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that transcended the dire circumstances we found ourselves in. He paused, as if searching for the right words to convey his sincerity. 'I love my wife, and I know she would want me to do whatever it takes to help you get through this. But, if my wife were in your place, I would want someone to offer her comfort and support. You're not cheating anyone; you're surviving.'