Don't Flinch

Dragonfly

(Reade's POV)

My heart is pounding against my chest. My ears are ringing, I can barely hear anything. The guy holding us captive ran from the room when the bullets ripped through the windows. He was seconds away from killing Tasha, just seconds. She is in utter agony and I know it. I can't imagine enduring so much pain. Her wounds aren't dry yet, each one has blood trickling down. I want to get her out of here. Out of these shackles, into cozy clothes. I want to hold her and apologize for any pain I've ever caused her. I can't tell if she's conscious or not, she stopped screaming when the guy left. If she said anything afterwards, I wouldn't know. The knife used on Tasha is on the ground next to her. Even if she could get it to me, there's nothing I can do with it. I'm strapped down with metal and my hands are cuffed.
"Tasha?"
I try to speak loudly, but I'm not so sure I can. She doesn't move, she looks lifeless.
"Tasha— hey." I try again, tilting my head to find her eyes.
This time she jolts awake, as if she snaps out of a trance. Her body tenses up as reality sets in. She let out a small whimper and looks at me through the corner of her eye. Her lips are trembling and she has a dead stare in her eyes.
"Tasha, we have to figure out how to get out of here. Do you know this guy's name or any of the other people here? This seems like CIA's work." I ask.
After a long moment of silence she speaks,
"Why are you talking so loud?" Her voice is quiet and shaky, but the sass hasn't left.
The corners of my mouth twitch up, but I can't bring myself to smile; neither can she.
"No, I don't know anyone here. I'm going to pretend you didn't make that CIA comment. I call the aggressor "Torture", suiting isn't it?" She says, her voice cutting in and out. She finishes with a quick, breathy laugh.
"My ears are ringing—" I start to say, but she cuts me off.
"Patterson?" She sounds mortified.
I've nearly forgotten Patterson is here, she's barely said a word. She is unconscious again; only now, she's bleeding profusely from her leg. She must've been shot.
"Shit.." I mumble.
I need to think. I have to stop the bleeding. I try to scoot my chair, to see if it's bolted. My shock collar goes off. I grunt and wince in pain. The chair doesn't budge. A thought pops into my mind, I can use that knife. It's going to be hard, but it must be the only way.
"Tasha. Tasha look at me." I keep my voice stern and steady.
She looks over at me, tears are streaked down her face. As much as I want to console her, we just don't have time. I have no idea when "Torture" will be back.
"I need you to focus, okay? This is going to hurt like hell, but it's all I've got." I wait for her to respond.
She nods her head, "okay."
"Okay. You're going to have to stretch until your feet can touch the floor and you have to kick me that knife." I say.
Her eyes widen at my idea, not with excitement or surprise, but with fear.
"Reade, that's going to open every single one of these wounds again." She's hesitant, but she knows it's the only way.
She looks back and forth between Patterson and I.
"Hey... it's okay." I meet her eyes and for just a second, everything is okay.
She closes her eyes and takes three deep breaths before stretching as hard as she can to reach the floor. She let out a blood curdling scream. The sound of it sends chills down my spine and it shatters my heart. I can hardly see the color of her skin anymore, she's covered in blood. I know it's not as bad as it looks, but it's killing me to see her like this. The deepest gash is the one he made across her stomach. The rest are shallow, only some may need stitches. The worst part is I can't do anything about it, not yet. She just barely reaches the knife handle and flings it toward me. I stop it with my foot; now, it's my turn. I use my feet to lift it up to my cuffed hands. My shock collar goes off again, but I have to keep going. I lean forward as far as I possibly can and dig the knife under the wires of the collar. They snap and I fall back against the chair to catch my breath. My throat is on fire. Panting, I hold the knife at an awkward angle and attempt to unscrew the bolts of the metal belt.
"You really think that's going to work?" Tasha's voice is hoarse.
"I have to try, don't I? My frustrations get the best of me. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what else to do."
My hands are shaking a thousand miles per hour, making it more difficult to unscrew them.
"Sorry." Tasha mumbles.
I sigh as one bolt pops off. I can hear people walking around on the floor above us, I might be running out of time.
"Son of a bitch." I groan.
My concentration increases and I pop another bolt off. There's two more on the other side, but I'm able to push the bar over enough to slide out of the chair. I'm not going to bother with the handcuffs. I thank god I only have to take three steps—give or take—because my legs are weak. I haven't stood in hours. I collapse in front of Patterson and use the knife to tear fabric off my pants. I figure it'll be much easier than trying to get it from my shirt. Spots of blood appear on my calf, but I can't feel any pain. I struggle to wrap the fabric above Patterson's wound. This isn't easy in handcuffs. My wrist turns in an awkward angle and pops. I gasp and pull the knot tight. Torture's voice echoes through the room. I want to check for an exit hole on Patterson's leg, but the pain wakes her up and she shrieks in pain.
"What have we here?" Torture asks.
I swear under my breath. This isn't good.
"I was helping her. She's going to bleed out if we don't get her medical attention." I stand up and try to hide my fear.
"That's mighty unfortunate. Don't blame me, your friend over there should have kept her mouth shut like she was told." Surprisingly, he hasn't taken any action to sit me back in my chair.
"I can't blame her for feeling pain." I say, making sure Tasha can hear me.
The last thing I want is for Tasha to think any of this is her fault. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I should have never agreed to look into Nathan.
Torture gasps, "You've broken your collar." He reaches forward to touch it.
I jerk backward in disgust.
"Don't you worry, I've got plenty extra. Let me have my knife back, by the way. I'd be a fool to let you keep it." He says.
He's got the voice of a madman—he sounds like the Joker. If I'd be considered stupid to try to overpower Torture right now, stupid I'll have to be. I lunge forward, planting the knife in his side and ripping it out. My knees buckle at the force I put on them. The knife slides across the floor. Torture kicks me in my ribs, the sound of his steel toe boots against them rings through the room.
"Agh!" I scream and curl into the fetal position.
Torture picks the knife up and hovers over me. He uses his foot to turn my on my back.
"Reade!" Tasha cries.
I won't die in front of her, I will not let that happen. I don't know how I'm going to get out of this situation, but I know it won't be pretty. All I can think about is Tasha, which is weird. My girlfriend, Megan, is probably worried sick about me. This is wrong, but no mater how hard I try I can't stop it. I remember the time we went undercover at the gala. Tasha looked so stunning in that black dress and I don't think I told her that. Her hair fell so perfectly around her shoulders, in loose curls. I remember the night we saved her from the burning house (another undercover mission). I was so scared of losing her that night. I don't know why I don't tell her these things, she deserves to know how much people care for her.
"Tasha, look away." I say, squeezing my eyes shut.
"No." Her voice cracks when she speaks.
Torture steps on my shoulder, pinning me to the floor.
"Look away, please!" I beg.
This time she turns her head to the side. Patterson is saying something to her, but I can't make out her words. All my upper body strength is being used to support myself through the pain in my ribs. I don't know how much strength I have left in my legs, but it'll have to do. Torture thrusts the knife down toward my chest. I bring my legs up and around his causing him to fall. The knife cuts vertically down my face. I pull myself to my feet and pick up the knife.
"Don't. Move." I spit through my teeth, breathing heavily.
My wrist is throbbing against the handcuffs. I'm hunched over, struggling to keep my balance. He smiles at me, anger fumes through my body. I'm about to end this bastard's life and he's smiling at me?
"God damn you." I snarl, stepping forward to stab him.
I feel a cold, medal object press against the back of my head. I freeze at the familiar feeling. I hear a gun cock,
"Drop it." A man says. 
I consider the choices I have. I could drop the knife—that's the most logical choice—or I could test this guy's seriousness and throw the knife at Torture. I could also try to take both of them, but that's very unlikely. Giving up just seems pathetic.
"Listen to him, Reade." Patterson pleads.
I can see both Patterson and Tasha in my peripheral vision. They look exhausted and teary eyed. They've been through so much, they don't deserve to go through any more pain. I sigh and drop the knife. The guy guides me over to Tasha with the gun still pointing at my head. He has the bottom half of his face covered and his hood up. I can't help but notice the flicker of recognition in Tasha's eyes as she watches the man behind me.
"Thank you, Sam." Torture says, approaching us.
Disbelief spreads across Tasha's face, "Sam?"
Sam meets her eyes, but says nothing. He nods at Torture and leaves the room.
"You know him?" I ask Tasha.
"I, uh— he works with for the CIA, but this isn't their doing Reade. It can't be." She shakes her head.
"Believe me, it's not. He's a mole, soon to be dead mole if you make it out of here alive." Torture chimes in, wrapping cloth around his wound.
"Now, we were going to carry on with 21 questions and pity parties, but you pissed me off." He points at me.
"So, we're going to play a different game. Russian roulette, to be exact. Just you two—" he turns to Patterson, "your game is postponed for tomorrow, don't worry."
He faces Tasha and I again and (with a sing-song voice) says,
"For this game Agent Edgar Reade will point the gun at Agent Natasha Zapata's head and vise versa."
He points the gun at the ceiling and fires three times. I'm speechless. He's really going to make us do this?
He spins the chamber, "There's one bullet left in here. To whom does it belong?" He laughs.
He brings Tasha down from her chains and she collapses. He removes my hand cuffs and I slowly sit down across from Tasha. I grab her hand to reassure her. It feels so nice to finally feel the warmth of her skin. I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. I want to pull her into my arms, but I can't—not yet.
"She can start first." Torture hands Tasha the gun. "Go on, put it to his head."
"I— I can't." She murmurs.
She shakes her head looking at the gun. Torture bends down to get in her face.
"Do not waste my time." He whispers.
Her hands begin to tremble. My heart aches for her. I don't know how to help, the only thing we can do is what Torture says.
"I won't do it." Tasha says, looking up at me.
Tears are pouring from her already raw eyes. Seeing her cry makes me cry, it's always been that way. She never cries in front of people unless she's really hurting.
"Do it." Torture persists.
"I'd rather die." She says, not breaking eye contact with me.
I wish she would just do what he says, she's so stubborn. We have no idea what the consequences could be, considering what he's done already. Torture grabs ahold of the gun and forces Tasha to hold it against my head.
"No, stop!" She screams and tries to pull away.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm trying so hard to be brave, but I don't want to die. I'm not content with my life right now and I want to make it right.
"Let me go!" She sobs.
I hear a click and I flinch.
"NO!!" Tasha drops the gun and holds her head in her hands.
I'm sweating and shaking. I can't do this. I can't hold a gun to Tasha's head, let alone pull the trigger. I will not be able to live with myself if I kill her.
"Please, just stop!" Patterson cries.
"Your turn." Torture ignores Patterson and sets the gun in my lap.
I watch Tasha crying into her hands. I've never seen her so defeated and scared. I somehow feel as though I'm failing her. It's my job to protect her and keep her safe and I'm failing her. I wish there was a way I could tell when the bullet is coming. I would point the gun at Torture, but I can't just take a lucky guess; he's not fond of rule breakers apparently. Torture goes to a duffle bag sitting on a table. He pulls out another gun and rushes back over. He cocks it and points it at Tasha.
"You pull the trigger, or I do." He says.
I swear my heart skips a beat. His gun is loaded and there's also a chance the bullet will come out of my gun. She'll die, for sure, if he shoots. If I shoot, she might not. It sounds like an obvious choice, but I can't just pull the trigger.
"1..2.." Torture counts.
Without giving it anymore thought, I pull the trigger. I must've been holding my breath this whole time, it feels so good to exhale. No bullet, she's alive. A thought crosses my mind: I love her. I want to tell her I love her, but I'm seeing someone. More than seeing, she lives with me. I've convinced myself Megan is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, but I don't know how true that is. I'm so desperate to live a normal life. I don't know how long we've been down here, but it's really made me think. I'm not sure of anything anymore, but one thing: Tasha. I'm sure I want to protect her, care for her, and love her.
"Getting angsty yet?" Torture clasps his hands together.
Tasha and I exchange a look of annoyance. He sets the gun in Tasha's lap. She picks it up and slowly examines it. I want to know what's running through her mind. I want to know how she's still functioning normally. Is she living for herself or for someone else? Is she really living or just surviving? I've got so many questions for her, maybe one day I'll get answers. Torture points his gun at me. Tasha's posture changes, I know she's facing the same conflict I did. Her eyes are swollen and red, full of tears and exhaustion. She lifts the gun, but doesn't aim it at anything.
"Two shots left." Torture says as if he's helping Tasha contemplate.
Two shots.. I thought to myself. I wish she would just get it over with. Torture begins his countdown, but slower this time.
"One....t-"
Tasha squeezes her eyes shut in a panic. I can see the rise and fall of her chest. I glance over at Patterson. Her lips are parted in disbelief. She doesn't want to watch, but she can't look away. I look back at Tasha as Torture reaches three and she points the gun at herself.
"NO!" I scream, lunging toward her.
The gun goes off as I hit it. I'm too scared to open my eyes. Tasha grips the front of my shirt with her hands and sobs into my chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She repeated.
Everything is happening in slow motion since I saw her point the gun at herself. Why on earth would she do that? I open my eyes and look for a bullet hole. It's hard to tell with the condition she in and I can't see the front of her, she's too close. Some wounds have reopened again.
"Are you okay?" I can barely hear myself speak.
She nods, still not able to get ahold of herself.
"Okay, now that I've scared the hell out of you all. Let's cut to the chase, yes?" He grabs two chairs and sets them a little ways apart.
"Have a seat, we're gonna learn a little more about each other." He says.
I put my hand on Tasha's shoulder and lean back. She looks up at me without loosening her grip. She looks like a completely different person. Would anyone be the same after something like this?
"It's okay." I whisper.
I don't know what else to say. Like two robots, Tasha and I stand up and sit in the chairs. We wait as Torture paces the floor. He's pondering on something. How much have we thrown him off since we got here, if any at all? This was thought out, planned meticulously. He had to of considered any and all possibilities. He grabs a stool and sets it in front of us.
"May I?" He gestures at the stool.
None of us answer or make eye contact.
"Lovely." he swings his leg around the stool and sits, "So far, we've learned Edgar is the reason Nathan is dead. Can you believe we've been here for nearly three days already? Gosh, we're practically a family now."
He waits for a reaction, but we all just sit here wishing it'll end.
"Oh, I see, the silent treatment. Tasha has a secret to tell us." He smiles.
This time Tasha looks up. I watch her think back to everything she did wrong, if she did anything wrong.
"Tell us about Dragonfly." He folds his hands into his lap.
Dragonfly? What in the world is that? It doesn't sound threatening. I look at Patterson, she seems to be putting two and two together.
"No." Tasha says quickly.
"No? Have you not learned your lesson? It's like you want me to hurt you. Is that one of your kinks?" He leans forward looking at her, then at me.
I shake my head and roll my eyes. Why would I know something like that?
"Piss off, I could lose my job." She crosses her arms across her chest.
"Your job is more important than your friends? Oh my." Torture pretends to be shocked.
Whatever this is, it can't be good. I'm trying not to be irritated with her right now, but she's always getting into a mess.
"What? No, that's not what I said." She says, clearly getting defensive.
"Do I need to go get my gun? I'm sure they won't appreciate me waving it in their face just to get you to talk and I'd hate to mistreat my guests." Torture rambles on.
Is this guy serious? What a load of bullshit.
"Obviously, we're in great shape. The only things we're missing are cups of tea and biscuits." Tasha speaks loud and clear this time.
Torture launches himself off the stool, wraps his hands around Tasha's throat, and pins her back against the chair,
"Listen, you ungrateful bitch. You, your boy toy, and your little friend should be dead right now. So, knock it off and do what I say" he acrimoniously utters.
Just as I stand up, he turns toward me,
"Sit down. By God, you guys are a mess."
I feel as though I have no fight left. I slump back into my chair and the metal bars extract, Tasha's follow.
"Speak." Torture gestures at Tasha as he sits.
She lets out a deep, yet quiet sigh,
"Dragonfly is an on going operation we're running at the CIA."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Carry on." Torture rolls his eyes and crosses his legs.
Tasha clears her throat and shuffles in her chair,
"It's really nothing serious. We're just using someone for information."
Her voice trails off and she clasps her hands together. She's trying to hide her nervousness, but I can see it. Her shoulders are tense, her jaw is clenched, and I can see the clamminess of her hands.
"Who?" I'm curious.
She looks over at me, the question she's been dreading has been asked. I furrow my brow, what has she done? Why is she so scared to tell us?
"Yeah, who?" Patterson chimes in.
Tasha whips her head around now facing Patterson. Her jaw drops as if she's going to say something, but she doesn't.
"Well..?" Torture presses.
Tasha looks down at her hands. A tear escapes the corner of her eye and she shakily takes a deep breath.
"It's...Borden." She mumbles.
His name lingers in the air like sarin gas. That man was—is—poisonous. Patterson and I remain quiet, hoping we heard wrong. She doesn't take it back. The weight of the world is compressing the room. For a moment, I don't care what's happened these past few days, I don't care about anything I've realized while being here, I'm disgusted. I'm disgusted with her, with her line of work, and just in general. I break the deafening silence,
"He's walking around a free man, isn't he?" I start off quiet, but the rage begins to pour out of me, "He's not going through "enhanced interrogation". He's not in a jail cell or a black site. He's helping you. You're working with him. How do you sleep at night? How do you live with yourself?"
She shrinks away from me, unable to defend herself. She knows she's in the wrong. She can't undo this.
"After everything he's done to me?" Patterson's voice quivers. "He wiggled his way into my life, around my walls, and into my heart. I confided in him. Do I need to remind you of what he did?" She pauses, but not long enough for Tasha to answer. "He tried to kill me. What would you have done if he did? Don't answer that, you'd still probably work with him. He betrayed not only me, but the team. I see where your loyalty lies now. Why did you even come back?" She finishes.
Tasha is frozen, staring down at her hands still. Torture is smiling huge. He's got a plan, an endgame of sort. He's building up to something big, why else would he be making us reveal our secrets? I don't want to think about it right now, I want an explanation.
"Say something." I say, more angrily than I intended.
"I-I'm sorry.." she whispers.
Patterson scoffs, "you're going to have to do better than that."
"I don't agree with it, I swear I don't; however, he's a great asset. I don't like him, I don't respect him, but I have to do my job." Her voice is full of defeat.
"I see where we stand." I murmur.