Vice

Forty Five

"Jesus Christ. What did they do to her?" 

"Is she okay?"

"Is she alive?"

She kept her eyes closed as James carried her past the others. They trailed after him craning their necks for a peek over his shoulder. The fog hadn't yet cleared from her head and she silently prayed that the walls would keep still so she could focus on their faces. She wanted to make sure they were okay.

He whisked her up the stairs while she tilted her head back enough to squint at the blurry figures below, "She is fine."

Her voice although hoarse was confident.

James looked down at her and for a prolonged second his eyes remained steady and unblinking on her face. A deep vertical line pulled his eyebrows inwards. His professionally neutral expression mushroomed into something livid, like a dam breaking way for an onslaught of white rapids. 

She couldn't tell if the anger was directed towards her captors, or rather, at her for denying her current state. 

He entered her room and kicked the door closed behind him. She let out a pitiful whimper as her damaged body sank into the mattress.

"Yeah, you're just peachy." James bit out. He shuffled around the room for a moment before dropping a handful of first aid supplies on the bed. Thea eyed them and had half a mind to scoff but her mental stupor disabled her ability to produce intelligible sentences.

He stooped beside her, his fingers reaching for the hem of her shirt. She quickly shook her head.

"Don't."

Ignoring the warning he carefully removed the torn blood-soaked cloth. She adverted her eyes unable to see the look of horror on his face. His fingers diligently worked at peeling away the fabric which had fused to her as a second skin.

The loud intake of breath confirmed her insecurities. James let out a string of profanities. He continued checking over her body, not even bothering an attempt to treat the gashes covering her stomach.

He started with her face, running a critical eye over her. 

"How long since you've slept?"

She blinked.

"Um...I-I don't know."

He frowned, "You don't know?"

She closed her eyes and sifted through the fog of her mind.

"Five days." It came out more like a question than a statement.

The furious tight lipped expression deepened but he resumed without any more questions.

She bit back a cry of pain as he lifted her arm, but couldn't help the cry that escaped when his hands brushed over the fabric supporting her broken fingers.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

She bit her lip hard and took a few ragged breaths. A bead of sweat slipped down her forehead from the effort it took to stay awake and fight the pain.

"Two of them are broken. I snapped them back into place but its pretty bad."

"You what?" His eyes blazed through her like coals. 

"I had to do something." He gently returned her hand to its resting place on her stomach.

Her hand throbbed while he shifted her twisted knee and it became to much. She felt herself slipping, he exhaustion and agony in her limps overwhelming her system. The room faded around her as sleep reclaimed her.