The DA's Daughter

Chapter Eleven

It had been two weeks now since her kidnapping. The news showed they were no closer to figuring out where she was or who even had her. In fact, the news was getting less and less about her and more about random stuff. It hurt her a little to know that she may be forgotten about.

Brandon had been the only person she had spoken to in the last week. She attempted conversations with him but they didn't satisfy her need to be distracted. She wished he would be a little friendlier. The nicest thing he had ever done for her was fixing her arm. If you could call that nice. Then again, he didn't let Timmy come in the room, so that could count as a good deed. Bloody dirt bag.

"Decent?" The familiar voice said after a couple knocks.

"Of course I am!" She yelled. He walked in, a tray of food with him. "Why the hell wouldn't I be decent? You think I'd walk around naked with that out there?" She said sarcastically, pointing toward the door.

"It's common courtesy." He answered abruptly, placing the tray on the bedside table.

"Didn't think thugs and murderers had that." She snorted, waiting on the bed for him to leave.

"You could be a little more grateful, or appreciative. It could be far worse. I've seen far worse."

"Seriously? You have got to be on some cheap ass crack. I will not be grateful for being kept locked up and used as bait."

"You're not dead. That's enough to be thankful for. Now eat." He ordered before turning and walking out.

"Thanks for the enlightening conversation!" She yelled out as he left. "As usual. Bastard." She muttered under her breath before collecting her dinner and digging in. If anything, the food was good, even if the company wasn't.

An hour or so after she finished eating, she started to get ready to sleep seeing there wasn't anything else to be at. She told herself that her whole sleeping habits would be completely messed once she got out of here... If she got out of here. Hope needed to be kept, even if it was just a tiny bit.

*** *** ***

The door burst open and light flooded the darkened room. Juliet awoken suddenly and stared toward the door. She could make out a figure but assumed it was Brandon. "Go away. I'm sleeping." She muttered before she heard a guttural laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere hun!" It wasn't Brandon it was Timmy. The sound of his laughter was gut retching and she feared for the worse. "Brandon stepped out so I'm just gonna step on in."

He made his way over to the bed, grabbing her out from underneath the blankets, only to slam her back down again. Juliet screamed and received a slap across the face, but it didn't stop her. She struggled, kicking, punching, clawing and more screaming. Brandon couldn't be too far, could he? It was a sad day when you looked for help from a man helping keep you hostage.

"Scream all you want sweetie. Nobody is going to hear you!" He said, laughing maniacally. There was pain in her throat as he pressed down on it with a hand, trying to stop the screaming. Tears poured down her temples, as her struggling grew weaker. As she grew weaker.

*** *** ***

Brandon had passed out on the cot that was set up outside the room. He had to admit, it sucked being the babysitter but he didn't trust Timmy and it was better than beating the streets. He shot up quickly when he heard shrill screaming coming from inside the room. It was obviously Juliet's but he didn't understand why she would pick up screaming, especially after all this time.

Running into the room, he saw her tossing and turning in bed and the screaming was growing shriller as her voice began to give out on her. He cautiously approached the bed but when he realized she was asleep, he began to shake her slightly, hoping to wake her gently. Instead, she sat up suddenly and nearly smacked her forehead into his nose. "Get away! Get away!" She screamed and he did just that, backing up to turn the room light on so he could see her better. He studied her carefully as she pulled the blankets up, looked underneath and then backed herself into the corner near the head of the bed. Her frantic eyes fell on him and he was fairly confused by everything.

"Ah... Everything alright?" He asked softly, not wanting her to get startled.

"Is he here?" She whispered barely audible.

"Who?"

"Timmy. Timmy isn't or wasn't here, right?"

"No, he hasn't been here in days." He answered, the more she spoke the more confused he got. "Did you need something?" He asked, unsure.

"He hasn't been here? Okay..." Juliet let go of her legs and straightened them. It was then she realized it was all a dream, a frightfully realistic nightmare. "Water... Can I have a glass of water?" She asked and he got her one, leaving it on the nightstand.

"May I ask what was that?" Brandon's whole demeanour was opposite of what he liked to present to her. He needed to her remember he was in control and that he wasn't her friend, unfortunately, tonight he let that guard down. Now he was being kind and compassionate. Probably because her sleep screaming scared the crap out of him and he was slightly disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

"I... I don't know. He was there, touching... " She spoke hoarsely, grabbed her glass and drank half of it down quickly.

"I'm pretty sure you were having a very vivid nightmare. You're okay, he's not here nor would I allow him to come in here. I may not be a great person with the best job description but I do have respect for the opposite gender. So, try to go back to sleep and don't scare the crap out of me like that again." He informed her. She nodded her head, finished off her water and slipped back under her blankets, curling up with her back to the wall. The scene bothered Brandon immensely. Hell! The whole situation with her being there bothered him. He understood the business behind the mafia but he didn't see the point of holding her here. They were no closer to getting the boss out of jail, or nobody informed him of any changes.

Shaking his head, he switched off the light and left theroom, locking it as per usual. He laid back down on his cot and for the third time in his 27 years of living, contemplated his career choice and whether or not it was indeed time for a change.