Success of the Broken Banner

Chapter 8: Promises

Time lost all meaning. Days blurred into weeks, my consciousness slipping in and out of the darkness like grains of sand in an hourglass, marking the countdown to my end. They kept me sedated, whatever they could scrounge up to dull the pain. But even in the haze of drugs, agony seared through my veins. A constant reminder.

"This only lasts as long as you let it go on." The words echoed in my mind with every prick of a needle, every bruising blow, every scream ripped from my throat. I'd clung to my resolve through the torture, but the temptation to surrender, to embrace the hell that awaited me in this godforsaken place, grew with each passing moment. Was it even worse than what they were doing to me now?

Echo was my anchor. Despite the lifetime of torment he'd endured, he'd emerged as a man of strength, of compassion and resilience. He'd broken free of the evil that had shaped his childhood, planting seeds of goodness to harvest in the future. But Echo was gone now, and I feared I lacked his fortitude. I couldn't fathom surviving the hell he'd been through, couldn't imagine not succumbing to the darkness that threatened to consume me now.

My memories were fading. Echo's face, once etched so clearly in my mind, grew hazy. Kilo's scowl, Frankie's laughter... they slipped from my grasp like sand between my fingers. That loss hurt more than any physical pain they'd inflicted on me.

Night had fallen, casting an eerie hush over the house. Yet, in the stillness, a silent menace pulsed like a dark heartbeat. Once the others retreated for the night, seeking solace in booze or stashed pills to numb their twisted consciences, my dread sharpened. The guard posted outside my door was my tenuous barrier against the depraved men who might be let in at any moment, escalating the torment that already gnawed at my mind and body.

But something about tonight thrummed with an ominous energy, hinting at a more sinister event looming. A chill coursed down my spine, setting my heart galloping wildly. After an eternity of numbness, my senses roared back to life, making every hair prick with hyperawareness. My breaths grew shallow and labored, the rag stuffed in my mouth constricting my airway.

My wrists and ankles, bound and strapped to the chair, felt suffocatingly tight. My chest rose and fell in quick, jagged movements. A familiar but long-forgotten terror clawed at me - I was spiraling into a panic attack.

I scramble to calm my racing mind, grasping for any peaceful thought like a lifeline. The color green. My childhood dogs. Anything to push back the looming dread.

But my mind always circles back to Echo. Just the thought of him brings a fleeting moment of serenity. That momentary relief washes over me, a balm to my terror.

The creak of the door, the footsteps – I miss them entirely. But the hands on my arms, the rag ripping from my mouth, and my panic roars back to life. This is it. This is how I die.

I flail and scream with my last shreds of strength, eyes clenched tight. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing the fear in my eyes. His voice is a distant buzz, drowned out by the scream of my own terror. I don't feel the wire cutting free from my wrists or the straps releasing from my ankles until my feet thud against the floor.

"Amelia." His voice pierces through the chaos, barely audible over my ragged breaths. Cracked with desperation. Echo's fingers trace my face, pleading for some flicker of recognition. I sob uncontrollably as he pulls me into his arms, holding me as if letting go means losing me forever. Is this real, or just my mind's desperate attempt to anchor myself to reality?

Time loses all meaning as we huddle there, the only reality his heartbeat against mine. Gradually, my panicked thoughts begins to still. My arms wind around his neck, the warmth of his skin the only anchor I need. This is real. He's here. I'm not alone.

Echo's soft humming filled the silence, a counterpoint to my ragged gasps. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with me."

"They...they told me you were dead," I stammered, my voice barely audible. "They said they killed you all." I forced myself to meet Echo's gaze, and a spark of icy rage flared in his eyes. Not at me, but at those who had torn me from his side. The same chilling fury that had hardened his features the night they left him for dead.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. "We escaped, and we've been searching for you ever since."

With a tender gentleness that belied his massive frame, Echo lifted me from the floor, draping my arm over his broad shoulder. He guided me from the room, the coppery tang of blood hanging heavy in the air. In the living room, the bodies of my tormentors lay stacked like cordwood, one noticeably absent.

Kilo stood over the carnage, the final man crumpling under his grip to join the macabre pile. His gaze snapped to the doorway where Echo and I stood, and for an instant, raw sorrow and compassion softened his features. It was a side of Kilo I had never seen before.

No words were spoken, but with a piercing stare, Kilo silently assessed my state. I met his eyes, then quickly looked away, tears prickling at the corners of my own. I couldn't bear the weight of his sympathy.

"Get her out of here," Kilo rasped, not tearing his gaze from Echo. "She doesn't need to see this."

A stubborn determination burned within me. "No." I shook my head. "This is exactly what I need to see – proof that it's finally over."

Kilo studied me, then gave Echo a curt nod. Gasoline-soaked bodies, the stench acrid and overpowering. A makeshift fuse trailed from the pile to the porch, and with a flick of a match, Echo sent it arcing through the air. The whoosh of flames consuming the house was almost...satisfying. The stink of charring flesh barely registered as I stared into the inferno, my mind drifting back to the lurker in the basement. The tale of the crimson lurker would have to wait for another day.

As we turned to leave, something beyond the burning porch caught my eye. A tall stake planted in the yard, the leader's head mounted atop the splintered wood. His icy glare had frozen into a dead-eyed stare, mouth agape. Memories flooded back – the last words Echo had spat at the monster before he'd dragged me away...

Echo had kept his promise.