Against the clock

21.

tw: vomiting

'I am sure your students will love to see it,' Gustaph laughed callously, his words cutting through the room with a cruel edge. 'You had no right to do that!' Derek shouted, the sense of betrayal and violation fueling his growing rage. I stood up, reaching for Derek's shoulder in an attempt to anchor him. 'Derek, that means they'll know we're not fine. They'll come looking for us,' I urged, my voice carrying a mix of concern and urgency. Gustaph's laughter echoed through the room as he callously revealed his manipulation. 'Darling, this looks just like a porn video. With some effects, I changed it so it looks like it's on a living floor,' he sneered. 'They'll stop looking for you because they think you left.'

Dread crept over me, realizing the gravity of the situation. My hands instinctively went to my head, tears streaming down my face as the weight of the situation overwhelmed me. Derek, desperate to intervene, pleaded, 'Guys, listen. I have a lot of money. Whoever put you up to this, I promise I will pay double, triple—whatever it takes,' his words laced with a sense of desperation and an earnest desire to extricate us from this nightmarish scenario. Despite Derek's desperate plea and offer of financial recompense, Gustaph's cruel laughter persisted. 'Money won't save you now, Derek,' he retorted, a sinister satisfaction in his voice. 'You're not getting out of this so easily.'

Derek's frustration turned into a seething anger, and he shot Gustaph a withering glare. 'What the hell do you want, then?' he demanded, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. 'Send!' Gustaph said enthusiastically and added, 'I wonder what your wife will think of this.' Derek's face twisted in rage, and his hands clenched into fists. 'You son of a...' he said as he went towards the older men first. With a series of forceful blows, he knocked him several times, causing his face to bleed. In the midst of the chaos, the gun was knocked out of his hands, skidding across the floor and coming to a stop near me. With urgency coursing through me, I seized the gun and sprinted towards Gustaph, who had managed to procure a knife in the brief chaos. As Derek relentlessly confronted the older captor, I focused my attention on Gustaph, who stood menacingly in front of me, wielding a knife.

In a tense moment, Gustaph lunged at me with the knife, narrowly missing as I instinctively dodged to the side. The cold metal blade swished through the air, leaving an ominous trace. Heart pounding, I quickly raised the gun, aiming at Gustaph. In a fraction of a second, the decision hung in the air - a life-altering moment. Reacting swiftly, I squeezed the trigger, a single gunshot shattering the chaos. The recoil vibrated through my hands as the bullet found its mark, and Gustaph staggered backward, his grip on the knife loosening. As Gustaph fell on the ground, with a bullet in his chest I went back over to Derek. He had beat the crap out of him. 'This is for all the fucking times you have touched her. You motherfucker!' he said between knocks. 'You had no fucking right!' he screamed.

Amidst the violent scene, I stood in shock, witnessing the brutal aftermath. 'You fucking hurt her!' Derek's screams echoed through the room as he continued to unleash his fury on the lifeless body. Panic set in as the reality of the situation unfolded before me. 'Derek!' I screamed, desperation in my voice, attempting to intervene. The older captor lay motionless, blood pooling around him, a ghastly testament to the brutality that had unfolded. 'You fucking sick motherfucker!' Derek's rage persisted, seemingly oblivious to the lifelessness of his adversary. Rushing to Derek, I pleaded, 'Derek, stop! He's dead!' The gravity of the situation pressed heavily upon us, a surreal tableau of violence and survival.

As Derek's punches gradually slowed, the weight of the reality he had just confronted settled in. 'He's dead,' he repeated, the realization sinking in. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the emotional turmoil unfold within him. Overwhelmed by the intense emotions and the graphic scene that had unfolded, a sudden wave of nausea gripped me. Without warning, I rushed to a corner and emptied my stomach, the physical manifestation of the visceral impact the traumatic events had on my body and mind. Derek's voice, filled with concern, reached me from behind. 'Meredith?' he called out, his tone reflecting both worry and the shared weight of the overwhelming situation.