DECODE. // Dracule Mihawk

10. Red Wine

WHEN Sabine came to, a cold dread washed over her, chills racing down her spine. With numbing drowsiness still prevalent, she tried to move but she was groggy, her attempt to sit up cut off as a harsh feeling around her wrists burned. Haze. Then a panic jolted inside her, cutting through the heavy fog. She tugged. Nothing. She yanked again with all the might she could muster while her heart hammered against her ribs. But with her hands above her head as she lay on a wooden table, attempts would be futile.

Craning her head up, neck sore, she glanced around through blurry eyes, a plain room all that met her. Blank walls, dresser in the corner, and a lone window. It was open and a cold draft leaked in, Sabine shivered as she fitfully tried to free herself ignoring each gnawing pang. God everything hurt, she couldn't pinpoint where it originated, feeling like death all over. Head pounded. Sides tender with sharp pain. And legs throbbing, slow to move as she tried to kick them.

The rope rubbed excruciatingly against her skin. She gasped trying to make leeway. Trying to get at least one wrist hand. But tears pricked her eyes and high pitched, hoarse whimpers passed her lips as the twine burned as it left her raw, a warmth trickling down her wrists that stung.

"I wouldn't do that."

She blinked furiously, trying to make out the figure amongst the blinding light that closed in on her. Trying to place the voice, its familiarity taunted her. It scratched the back of her head, light and feathery, a kind of pain that traveled down her spine as if paralyzing her from how hard she strained.

"See, you've managed to hurt yourself already." The voice tsk'd.

Giorgio. His name splayed red in her vision, the letters etched out, Flashes of him in her mind, from the first time they met to when she saw him out on the street the other week.

A burst of hate bubbled and spewed out her chest, causing her to tug at her binds once again, "Fucking hell."

"A nun shouldn't say such things."

Her eyes widened as cold realization sparked. Another rush of memories, this time of decaying, dead bodies amongst a fitfull of books and research. An onslaught of spinning thoughts that screamed at her to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Wait."

"Oh I can see it- the answer's on the tip of your pretty little tongue." Giorgio spoke with glee, a twisted grin on his lips.

"Are you- behind all this?"

He moved closer causing her to spasm, yanking at her binds once again with pitiful desperation. The rope burn only increased, only made her wrists inflamed and red. Sensitive. Exposed. Even the air caused them to sting much to her chagrin who found herself in a precarious situation. Stuck. Vulnerable. All with a man she despised who was more than a clown who reveled in harassing others. She thought him truly harmless past that, not a murderer. Not the demon who haunted her dreams!

"I was shocked to see you with the great Dracule Mihawk, yes I know who he is. How'd you get him to come along on your pathetic adventure?"

"That's none of your business." She whimpered. Tears flowed free and she cursed herself for it.

"But it is. I'm supposed to be having my fun. Yet a Warlord of the Sea prances on in! Do you know who accompanies you?" His stern eyes stared at her with blazing fire. She wished she could shrink into nothingness, "Do you realize how strong he is? What he's capable of?"

She shook her head as she began to sob between her teeth. She tried to fight it, "N-No."

"There aren't many in our world that are more powerful than him."