My Kidnapper's Mistake

Chapter 17: Taken again

Anya's P.O.V.

This hostage situation was nothing compared to Julian's first attempt. I got overwhelmed by men in the hallway and despite putting up one hell of a fight I just couldn't get loose. I only needed a second to make a dash for the fire escape but I never got it. There were just so many of them. I got tired, my limbs were getting heavier and more difficult to move, until someone had finally managed to knock me unconscious.

I woke up tied to a chair. A bight light was shining directly on me, preventing me from seeing anything further than what was within a one foot radius from my chair. My mouth was dry and the room was stifling hot.
"Who are you working for?" A voice asked from beyond my circle of vision.
"I used to work part time at the cafe on Wilson Street..." I played dumb. The entire situation was ironically familiar in some sense. The only difference being that I had my wits about me this time. In comparison this time around I should be a lot more scared, but oddly enough I wasn't.
"Don't play games with me!"
"I'm hardly in any condition to do that." Wherever my bravado was coming form it had better dry up soon or I would not e walking out here alive.
"I'll ask you for the last time. Who sent you to kidnap my daughter?"
So it was Richard himself that was interrogating me.
"Nobody sent me." It was the truth, the Orginization had sent the team after Richard Freeman, it had been my idea to target his daughter to get to him.
"I've had about enough of your smart comments," Richard snarled, "let's see how smart you'll be after a good lashing."
I heard several footsteps, one pair was getting fainter and more than one was getting louder.
Two men untied me from the chair, just to tie me back up to a post. I didn't make the transition easy for them, but in the end I couldn't prevent it. I screamed in agony when the first, second and third lash cracked against my back. Every new path that was carved into my skin dulled the pain from the one before it and by the sixth lash I hung limp, too weak to even scream out anymore. The last four lashes only received a low moan in response. Only when I had been tied back to the chair did the overwhelming heartache settle in for my dress. I couldn't feel the slightly scratching sensation of the material against my skin anymore.
It wasn't long before Richard returned again.
Let's try this again. Who are you working for?"
"I don't work for anyone."
"You're not solo so let me try asking who are you working with?"
"A team of guys."
"A bit more specific sweetheart." Richard urged, seeming to have gained a bit more patience or maybe he was planning on whipping me whether or not I had given him what he wanted immediately.
"I'm not going to give you their names if that is what you want." I huffed, each breath taking more energy than usual.
"You and that whip will be quite well acquainted by the time you get out of here."

More lashes followed. I could feel the warmth of blood dripping down my back and arms. Richard returned with more questions, but this time I didn't have any energy left to even answer vaguely. He seemed to notice that it would be a waste of time and energy to try and get information from me in my current state.
"A few more and then stash her in the holding room."
I blacked out by the third lash. Embracing the world of dark numbness with gratitude.

I woke up in a room with blank walls, my back feeling like it was being engulfed by flames. Black dots still swam in and out of my vision.
"Won't do to try and get anything out of her. I know her type. We could torture her till the brink of death and she still won't give us anything to work with." A man's voice could be heard.
"Do you suggest we dispose of her?"A different voice asked.
"No, not yet. Keep her for two weeks. Maybe her accomplices will come to her aid."
For the first time since being taken I felt actual fear. A horrid urge to call out to the guys that they should leave me here to die, that they should not come to my rescue. I felt the darkness inviting me under again, and I accepted willingly, bit it wasn't a dead sleep like the first one. My dreams of serious chestnut brown eyes, photographs and purple primroses pierced by car crashes and sickening white lilies.