Little Lamb

25 ❦ pale dollface

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Silly girl, tied to a tree in the middle of the woods, like I was asking for it.
I never meant for any of this to happen, but people are cruel, so cruel.

The darkness was pierced only by a few lanterns hanging on distant trees, casting faint glows around. The woods were alive with the buzz of insects, It felt like they were walking all around me and on my skin. A fire blazed nearby, casting flickering light on the men scattered around, some roasting meat, others eating and patrolling with their guns.

Despite the grim reality of my situation, there was a twisted beauty in the untouched nature surrounding us. It was peaceful in a way. Even though I was tied down to this stupid tree.

Riggs. That fucking asshole.

He hadn't been around for a while, and as much as I hated seeing his pretty face, I started to miss it already.

As I scanned the camp, my gaze fixed on his tent. Just then, Riggs emerged, walking across the camp with an unsettling ease. He looked well rested, as if he hadn't just had me on his lap and played with my emotions.

He settled by the campfire, chatting with his men, looking completely at ease. Cozy, even. They were enjoying a meal, basking in the fire's warmth. I, on the other hand, was left in the cold, my skin freezing despite the shirt and pants I wore, clothes that were his. The scent of him slowly disappearing into burning smoke.

I stared at Riggs, my frustration boiling over, the cold and the ropes making my skin burn with anger. As if sensing my gaze, he lifted his head, and our eyes locked through the drifting smoke.

My breath caught in my throat. I quickly looked away, unable to hold his gaze for even a second longer.

It was like he was feeding off my anger, enjoying every second of it. But when I glanced up again, he was still staring, only this time, his eyes seemed softer, almost... tender. I blinked, wondering if I was seeing things.

Then, he suddenly looked down and turned away from my gaze.

Was that bastard actually feeling pity for me?
Even if he was, it didn't matter. He's the one who did this to me.

My eyes drifted over the camp until I spotted him. Allister, moving toward me with a plate of food. The sight of it made my stomach churn. I didn't want their pity, didn't want anything they thought they could offer to make this better.

He knelt in front of me, the small tin plate held out like some sort of peace offering. "You should eat," he murmured, his voice soft, almost apologetic.

I turned my head away, refusing to meet his eyes. "No."

Allister sighed, placing the plate beside me. His gaze lingered on the ropes biting into my wrists, the raw marks they'd left on my skin.
"What happened this time, Lola?" he asked. "What did you do to get tied to a tree?"

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as the weight of everything crashed down on me. My chest felt heavy, the emotions so close to spilling over. I stayed silent for a long moment, but when I finally spoke, I broke down completely. "He hurt me, Allister..." My eyes were filled with tears, pleading. "Please... let me go. I'm scared. Everything hurts."

Allister's expression softened, but then he glanced back toward the fire where Riggs sat.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I want to help you, but I can't. These are his orders."

"Orders?" I hissed, my voice rising in frustration. "You can't just leave me like this! I'm not a prisoner. Please, Allister, I'm begging you."

He shook his head, standing up, his face a mask of quiet conflict. "I don't have a choice, Lola. You know how it is. I can't cross Riggs."