Enclosed

Chapter Thirty-Five: Relief

Rose woke up with a dramatic gasp. The world was hazy. A nightmare bound in fluorescent lights.

Her mind raced a million miles an hour, as Rose tried to make sense of her surroundings. The last thing she remembered before passing out from the pain was Pious's insane smile as he let another of his followers curse her, as she was chained to the torture device.

This wasn't the Reformed's hideout. This was a hospital room. She was laying in an old hospital bed. This must have been a dream or a cruel illusion Pious cooked up after she passed out to make her think she was safe.

Paper thin sheets crunched against her legs, as she slowly raised herself onto her elbows to survey the rest of the room. The lights burned her retina, earning a sharp hiss out of her mouth. Black dots danced in her vision, obscuring her sight. She blinked trying to get her bearings, as huge arms wrapped around her. Her father's cologne took over her senses. He sobbed into her ear, as her mother's arms joined his.

An involuntary sob broke through Rose's throat.

It's not real. This isn't real.

Whatever it was Rose, she wasn't strong enough to fight it. Rose leaned into their comforting embrace, ignoring the protests her ribs and instincts were shouting.

Everything hurt. Her body ached in places it shouldn't. Her nose. Her fingertips. Even her elbows. It all hurt.

Rose blinked, her vision focusing. Her Mum was sitting on the side of a hospital bed. Her big brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Her cheeks were puffy and flushed. Wild curls tangled, bushing up at the back of her head like she'd slept on them and hadn't bothered to tame them.

Her Dad kneeled next to the bedside, his hands curling around Rose's, squeezing them in a steady beat. Like his wife, her Dad didn't like much better. Bags curled under his eyes. If that didn't hint that he hadn't been sleeping then the pile of discarded coffee cups by the couch would have been a dead give away.

Rose wanted to let herself believe this was real so badly, but how could it be? This wasn't real. None of it was real.

The gears in her mind began to turn, building up a hasty escape plan. The Reformed only had two guards with her, who were clearly using polyjuice potion. Their idea must have been to lure her into a false sense of comfort and start extracting information.

Pious would want to know what she knew about Marcus and the other victims. He'd want her notes on the case and insight into the Ministry's secrets.

She wouldn't give it to him. She'd die before sharing any information with him, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"What's going on?" She breathed, her voice hoarse, the words like sandpaper against her throat. She leaned into their embrace, pretending to accept their comfort.

"Oh, Rose." Her Mum cried, stepping out of the hug to brush a curl back from her sticky forehead. She cupped her daughter's face, "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She said hesitantly. Whatever charm Pious was using to conjure this illusion was strong.

There was a door directly behind the fake parents. It was at least 10 feet away. Besides a table full of flowers and a couch, the room was empty. Nothing she could use as a weapon to fight off the disguised Reformed.

Magic wasn't an option.

Rose swallowed down her despair at that thought.

Adrenaline was a fierce weapon. Her blood pumped with it, fueling her with energy. Adrenaline was fleeting. She needed to use it before it wore itself off.