The Missing Linck

• THIRTEEN •

(Warning- Possible Abuse trigger)

"You lied."

That's what he said. The words that shook me to my core because of their accusatory and ruthless tone. He's never spoken to me like this before. Never. I'm so glad I never got on his bad side until now, but now I'm afraid of whatever fate awaits me.

"What?" I attempt to question him but the sound of my voice doesn't have enough force propelling it to float out of my mouth.

Clearing my throat, I try again. Pointless.

He grunts and produces a bottle from his pocket. Bringing it up to my lips, he grants the sandpaper of my tongue some relief as cool fluid flows down my tongue and throat.

And then, just like that, the relief is gone. I groan as he puts away the bottle.

I can hear the smirk in his tone as he says, "That later. Speak up now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I blurt out before thinking.

"Keep talking..." he says, challenging me to prove my point.

I simply stare back at him until he's had just about enough and glares daggers into me as if looks could kill. Who knows, maybe they do?

"There's no point in lying to me. I can read your mind," he tries, his tone gentler but still quite cold.

"Oh yeah?" I think as loudly as I can.

The cluelessness on his face when I hear no response even after a while and burst into laughter when he doesn't reply, safe in the knowledge that I can protect my thoughts from others, is just downright hilarious. Valor put the thought in my mind when we first met, only I never realized until now.

"Let's see how things work out for Mister Powerful now," I try my best to broadcast my thought.

His knuckles whiten as his palms shrink into tighter fists. He seems to be on the verge of just breaking down and punching the life out of somebody. It seems like that is either Valor or me at the moment.

And then he raises his right fist, slowly spreading it into a cupped palm as his left fist collides with my cheek. Bad aim, seeing that his fist pretty much just flitted over my cheekbone.

Now he pushes his fist into a much tighter ball and this time around, it connects pretty well with my jaw. Well in terms of aim, seeing as the punch could have even dislocated my jaw.

I stare back at where I assume his eyes to be, my gaze unwavering. I try not to flinch when his next targets are my right shoulder and my stomach. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of watching me beg for mercy. When his fist connects with my sternum and a crack of a rib can be heard though, I can't help the cry that escapes my lips and the tears that gush out my eyes.

"Look, I don't want to watch this either, but if you don't answer properly, this is what I got to do. So just reply, and truthfully, will you?" His voice takes on such a considerate and gentle tone that I almost instantly feel guilty for doubting him.

I shift my gaze to the blonde tips of his hair visible under the dim light radiating in through the slit in the wall.

"Quintasha, please answer."

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I would have to resort to other more severe methods to extract what gen I want if you don't cooperate."

"I stand by my words."

Turning his head to the right and to the left, he swings his fist back and forth.

Hit. Pain. Don't cry. Don't feel. Don't let him know. Grit my teeth and stand by myself. Hit.

And so the cycle continues until I can no longer remain awake and conscious.

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Hey! So the next chapter will be here soon, and don't hate on me for not letting you know who he is. I think you could've figured it out. If not, you'll see soon!

As usual, theories and feedback are welcome!

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