His Barista - Soap MacTavish Coffee Shop AU

20

A/N:
Trigger warning, sexual assault.

Seeing your own fingernails discarded on the ground wasn't something Elsie had ever thought she would experience. She stares at them, expressionless and so empty that not a single thought could form in her clouded mind.

An hour ago she'd been frantically trying to push the nails back into her fingers, hot tears streaming down her face as she did so. This is how they knew she was beginning to break; soon she would give up the information they needed, or lose herself in her mind forever.

She never noticed when they entered the room anymore, only when they laid their hands on her did she realise they were there. She stopped drinking the water they brought her, though they didn't care for that much. As long as they could force feed her vodka to stay subdued and compliant it was all okay.

Johnny hadn't been on her mind for almost a week now. She didn't cry out his name when they beat her, or wish that he was here with her. Nothing existed outside the four little walls they had her confined to.

Her mind was simply shutting down.

***

The bald man is back, hoisting Elsie up by her hair and huffing in satisfaction when she stands without any complaints or lip quivering.

"Remember when you swore I wouldn't break you?" He says to her and smirks, fingers under her boney chin to lift her eyes to his.

The guards behind him snickered, reminiscing of the once spirited woman, now broken. She had a vacancy in her eyes, like leaving the lights on in an empty home.

He traces his fingers across her face and cups her cheek. He sees her eye twitch for a moment and his smirk falters.

"There's still a little piece of you in there," He says. "Protected deep in your mind."

He steps back momentarily before lurching forward with his fist and sucker punches Elsie back onto the ground. She's gasping for air, winded by the attack and she hears the guards cackling at her.

She knows by now not to react, lessening the beatings by only a little but at least it wasn't as horrible.

As she lays on the freezing, bloodied concrete, hands clutching her aching abdomen, her worst fear gets flipped to reality.

The bald man turns to his guards. "Undress her."

Elsie's stomach no longer ached from pain, but the unease in her began to churn so violently that her vision blurred and she felt nauseous for the first time in weeks.

She was already scooting herself into the corner of the room when the guards began stepping toward her, a sickening smirk stuck fast to their faces. It didn't take a genius to know the thoughts and fantasies reeking from their minds and she physically shuddered.

A gloved hand grabs roughly at Elsie's ankle, pulling her under them effortlessly, like she weighed no more than an injured dog. They're too strong for her to fight off, she knows that. She shrieks when they begin tearing her clothes from her small body, no remorse or hesitation on their part. Every sensor in Elsie's body was screaming at her to move, to get away, to fight them for as long as it took for them to give up.

The room was filled with a deafening echo of her screams, the sound bouncing off her skull and back again causing a migraine but she couldn't care less. She moved frantically trying to escape their groping hands now that she was bare, her head spinning fast like a drunken night while she panicked. Hands touching her in places she would never allow anyone but her Johnny.

She's grabbing at their uniforms, desperately trying to find something, anything to help her out of this horror. Her finger grazes something, she's not sure what but she pulls on it anyway and it comes free, now grasped firmly in her hands despite how badly they shake.

She doesn't think twice before jabbing the guards with the object repeatedly, pulling herself to stand when they falter and back off. She's holding it in front of her now, blood dripping sickeningly off the end of it before lunging at the first one to advance on her again. Everything blurs, both from her panicked state and the tears streaming her face and suddenly she's straddling one of the guards, stabbing him over and over and over and over again; blood curdling shrieks with every thrust.

She can't stop. There's blood everywhere; the walls, herself, the guard she's shanking.

An arm wraps around her waist and pulls her off him. She immediately turns and jabs them in the shoulder, squirming to make their grip on her relent.

"Elsie stop!" He shouts and pries the object from her almost vice like grip, tossing it across the room. "IT'S ME! LOOK!"

She knows his voice. She must be dreaming.

He's kneeling in front of her before she even realises it, his hands cupping her bloodied cheeks and she looks at him. His eyes are recognisable, but they weren't the same soft orbs she'd known before. He strips his jacket off and drapes it over her naked body.

She shakes her head. "You're not real! You're — You're not here..." She tells him and he frowns.

"I'm real, Els. I'm here," He tries to reassure her. "Here—" He takes her hands in his and leads them to his own face, watching as she runs her fingertips over his features.

This is real.

"Johnny..."