Osu Throu Daun Ogeda || We Fight Together || A 100 Fanfiction

XVII

- Jordan's POV -
I sit painfully, slumped in the chair, while my arms continue to strain against the tight restraints that bind my wrists. They have bitten my skin, leaving angry red marks that throb with each beat of my heart. I am exhausted-both physically and mentally-but I refused to let myself break. Not now.

For hours, I endured the relentless questioning, the icy voice of Major Byrne cutting through the air like a blade. The guards have stood by, their expressions impassive as I struggle to keep my composure and then would torture me when told. But now, the room is silent, the oppressive weight of the interrogation finally lifting as Byrne and her men have left me alone. The tension lingers, though, a thick, suffocating presence that presses down on my chest.

I shift in the chair, my muscles screaming in protest as I try once again to free myself. I grit my teeth, stifling a groan as the the rope digs deeper and knife wounds feel like they're twisting. I have to get out. I can't afford to stay here, vulnerable and at their mercy. But the restraints hold fast, unyielding against my desperate attempts.

I am about to try again when the door creaks open.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. I slowly lift my head up at the sound.

A small boy stands in the open doorway, his figure framed by the dim light of the corridor behind him. He can't be more than eight years old, with wide, curious eyes that seem to take in everything at once. His clothes are slightly too big, hanging loosely on his thin frame, and his bright hair is tousled as though he has been running or playing just moments before.

For a moment, neither of us move. I stare at the boy, my mind struggling to make sense of his presence here, in this cold, sterile room. The harshness of my surroundings make the sight of him all the more jarring, a splash of innocence in a place where there should be none.

The boy hesitates, his gaze locked on my face as if he is trying to understand who I am and why I am here. He holds something close to his chest-a small, worn-out stuffed animal that looks like it had been well-loved but is now fraying at the seams.

I realize this is the small boy I saw from the tree that day, clinging to Bell.

I swallow hard, my throat dry as I finally find my voice. "Hey," I rasp, my voice hoarse from both my exclamations of pain but also disuse. I force myself to keep my tone gentle, though my mind is still reeling. "What... what are you doing here?"

The boy doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he takes a cautious step towards me, his bright blue eyes never leaving mine. There is something in his gaze, something that tugs at the deepest corners of my heart-a mix of curiosity and concern that seems far too mature for someone his age. But also something that reminds me of someone else's gaze, but I can't quite place it.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his voice soft and tentative.

I feel a lump form in my throat at the kindness in his tone. I try to smile, though it feels weak and forced. "I'm... I'm okay. I lie, my voice barely above a whisper and my body probably showing the opposite. But I can't bring myself to tell him otherwise. He's so young.

The boy's brow furrows slightly, as if he isn't entirely convinced. He looks down at the stuffed animal in his hands, then back up at me. "Who hurt you?" He asks, his voice even softer now, laced with worry.

My heart clenches painfully at the concern and fear in his eyes. I don't know this boy, don't know why he is here. But I can't let him see how much pain I am in, can't let him carry that burden.

"That's not something for you to worry about." I tell him, shaking my head slowly. "I'm okay."

The boy doesn't look convinced, but he takes another small step forward, his gaze searching mine for any sign of the truth. "Do you need help?" He asks quietly.