She Will Be Mine

Chapter 5: Des

​I ran into the hospital at a full sprint. The nurses jumped out of my way as I looked for the room where Charlie was. The women at the front desk seemed to sense who I was. "Fifth floor, last room on the left," she said without even looking up. I yelled a quick "thank you" and was on my way.
​When I made it up to the fifth floor, the room was already full of PI's and doctors. I could barely find Charlie in the whole mess. He was laying on the bed, covered in stitches and Band-Aids. Multiple IV's went into his arms, and his hair was a mess. My heart skipped a beat when his eyes met mine. He smiled, and wrinkles appeared at his eyes. I walked over to him, and without thinking, grabbed his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. His eyes looked at me in surprise, and I let go.
​The doctor looked at me and began talking in a lightning speed voice. "Mr. Michaels has suffered mild contusions over his body, and several 2nd degree burns. He has been set up with two millimeters of Vicodin for the pain in his head and abdomen. Mr. Michaels has a small scale concussion that should last up to 3 weeks. We are going to have him take a CT scan to make sure there is no permanent damage to the brain," he finished and exited the room, taking his team of nurses with him.
​Charlie shrugged it off like it was no big deal. "It's just a flesh wound," he jokingly remarked.
​The doctor reappeared in Charlie's room. "The CT is ready for you," he told Charlie as he began to wheel him out of the room. I watched until his head disappeared around the corner, than turned to the chief, who was sitting in a chair by the window. His hair had seemed to grow in grey hairs over the last couple of hours.
​"What's the plan now Chief?" I asked him, walking over to the window. The Empire State Building was nowhere near its glorified condition that it had been the previous day. Fire trucks lined up for miles around it, and many people were stopping to take pictures of the phenomenon.
​Murphy stood up and walked towards me. He leaned against the wall and sighed, running his hands over his face. When he looked at me again, he was beginning to look like the old man that he felt like. "Des, all I know is that we have to do something. I won't allow some sick masochist to come in here again, and destroy my Investigators. That is something I just won't do." He left the room, muttering something into his shirt.
​I slumped down to the floor to wait for Charlie to come back. I have to get my head in the game. What was I missing? Then it hit me. The envelope. The paramedics had said that it was still intact when they grabbed Charlie out of the building. If that thing didn't burn up in the fire, then maybe, just maybe, it could be used to help them.
​Without another thought, I flew out of the room. Running down to the stairs, I waved to a very confused looking Chief as I sprinted by. His words didn't even register.
* * *
​When I made it to the building, there was police tape surrounding the perimeter, but I snuck right through. I walked down the long hallway. It was eerie not having the security guards lined against the wall, even though they never did anything anyways.
​I nearly made it all the way to the stairs when something hit me from behind. Pain seared behind my eyes as my body fell to the floor. "Hello Darling," the voice was the last thing I heard.
* * *
​I woke up in the dark. I was blindfolded, and quick movement proved I was tied to a chair. It was tough wire, and I would only ruin my wrists by struggling. A laugh echoed around the room. "Welcome back Darling," the voice was familiar to me somehow, but I couldn't place it. My captor grabbed my hair and pulled my neck back towards the chair. "I'm glad that you made it. You are so naïve," He was caressing my head and hair, and it sent shivers down my spine. His hand slipped into my scalp, and he took the ponytail out and threw it.
​"I have been waiting for this day to come," he whispered in my ear. His breath reeked of whisky and Bourbon. I tried to spit in his general direction. He slapped me and laughed. "Oh no Darling, not so fast," he walked until he was facing me. I struggled, trying to somehow get out, but he grabbed the chair and pulled it forward, jolting me. "If only you could see who I really am, then we could make this more fun," he was breathing in my face. I coughed as the stench reached my nose. He laughed again, clearly drunk.
​I worked on getting the gag that was strangling me out of my mouth. "You monster," I muttered when I finally got it loose.
​"See that's where you are wrong," he spoke to me again. "I am just trying to help you, and you can't even see that," he walked away from me, and a gun clicked. "You are all so predictable, even though you think you are so great. I knew you were going to return to the building, and so I waited for you. You don't seem to get it. I am after you, and you walked right into my trap," he was in front of me again. His hands grasped my cheeks and squeezed. I am so going to kill him, I thought to myself.
​"Following you was the easiest thing I have ever done. You think you are so good just because you are a Private Investigator. But you really are the most stupid person I have ever seen. You think you are just too good for everyone else. Your whole family did,"
​I sucked in a deep breath at the mention of my family. How dare he criticize them! They were my family. "I hate you," I whispered, tears coming into my eyes. He had just poured salt into the wound, and he knew it.
​"Oh, does the wittle baby need her mommy?" he mocked me and threw something past me. It shattered by my feet, and my ankles stung from the glass. I could feel the blood come out of the cuts, but I didn't care. If I could just see the asshole, I thought to myself. Then I could do something about it.
​He walked around me, like he was surveying his prize. "You are so beautiful," he said to me as he walked. "I cannot wait to see what lies underneath," he disgusted me. I tried to remain silent, to not bait him. I didn't know what this man was capable of. Tears streamed down my face, but I remained silent. "You know," he began again. "They went too easily. Your parents, I mean," he laughed at my torture. Every time he mentioned them, the wound in my heart grew. My hatred was boiling inside me. I needed to get my hands on this man. "They didn't even bother to fight. They didn't even open their eyes."
​He laughed again. "Your struggling is useless you know," he remarked calmly, like he was talking about the weather. "It is rather pitiful to watch," he walked away from me, and I began to work on my bounds again. Suddenly, I felt the nozzle of a gun against my temple.
​"Move again," he whispered. "I dare you," I didn't move, petrified. He laughed again, and the gun left my forehead. I let out a deep breath, thankful to be alive.
​He walked away from me. The blindfold was not letting me see anything, and the darkness was infuriating. The detective instincts told me I should talk to him, try and get anything out of him, but I was too scared. All courage I had flew out the window the minute he mentioned my parents. "I suppose I should bring you back to your boyfriend now," he spit the word, like it was dirty. "I cannot wait to get my hands on him," I could hear him rub his hands together. Light was beginning to come through the blindfold, and as my eyes adjusted, I could see his shadow. He was hovering near a window, a gun in his hand. My heartrate when up at that.
​"Let's go Princess," he said, walking towards me again. "We can finish this conversation later," And just like that, something slammed down on my head, and I fell into blackness.