Serenade in a Coffee Cup

The Endurance of Orm

The warehouse was a prison. Each day was a battle for Orm, both against Bright and against her own crumbling hope. Over the course of nine days, Bright's manic episodes had grown increasingly erratic, his grip on sanity loosening with each passing hour.

The bruises on her body had darkened, some fading while others became more vivid as fresh injuries replaced the old. Bright's tortures were relentless sometimes physical, sometimes mental. He would go from striking her in a blind rage to kneeling before her, sobbing into her lap, apologizing for his outbursts. But it was the psychological games that truly broke her down. He would withhold food for days, promising it only if she begged or confessed some fabricated lie about Ling. He forced her to relive her worst memories, twisting them, turning her love for Ling into something grotesque in his eyes.

But in the darkest moments, Orm's mind would drift to Ling their shared laughter, stolen moments of tenderness, the way Ling's arms wrapped around her, a safety she'd never known before. She closed her eyes, picturing Ling's smile, remembering the warmth of her touch when everything seemed right. It was the only thing that kept her going, the only thing stopping her from surrendering to the torment.

On the third night, she remembered their first night together how Ling had stayed up with her, just talking, laughing about the small things. There was no pretense, no masks between them, just two people who saw each other. The memory brought a fresh wave of tears, but Orm held onto it like a lifeline, even as her body was bruised, her face swollen from Bright's fists.

By the seventh day, Orm's mind began to blur. She wondered if Ling was alive. She had no idea what had happened after she collapsed. Was she hurt? Was she... gone? That thought no, that possibility was too much to bear. One night, alone in the dark of the warehouse, her body trembling, Orm broke. Silent tears ran down her face as her body curled into itself. She didn't care about herself anymore. It was Ling's fate that tore her apart, the unknown gnawing at her like a slow poison.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the void, her voice cracking. "I'm so sorry."

But then, on the tenth day, everything changed.

Bright had left the room after another one of his unpredictable outbursts, this time storming out after screaming that Ling had probably forgotten Orm. He always found ways to twist the knife in her heart, using Ling as the weapon. But when the door closed behind him, Orm noticed something different. He had left it slightly ajar.

Her heart raced. This was it. Her body screamed with pain as she slowly stood, muscles stiff from the abuse. She crept toward the door, praying that Bright wouldn't return before she made her move. The adrenaline masked her injuries for now, and she carefully peeked outside. The hallway was empty. The moment was fleeting, but it was hers. She made her escape.

Ling spent most of the tenth day pacing, her muscles aching but her mind sharper than ever. Every fiber of her being wanted to rush into the warehouse district and tear down every wall until she found Orm. But Kai had been insistent forceful, even about making her rest and recover. For days, he had kept her grounded, watching over her like a hawk, knowing that her desperation would make her reckless. Now, she was moving more steadily, her body regaining its strength, but her soul was in turmoil.

"I'm ready," she muttered, pulling on her jacket as she stood from her bed.

Kai blocked her path, his hand firmly on her shoulder. "Ling, stop. You're not fully healed yet."

"I don't care, Kai. She's out there, and I can't stay here a second longer."

"I understand that. But rushing in without a plan isn't going to save her. It's going to get you killed, and Orm along with you."