Blind Visionary [John Murphy x OC; Becca's Island]

Chapter Two

 After I clean his wounds and scrub the dirt from his face and visible skin, I use the rope to secure him to the wooden chair against the wall next to my bed. The dead weight is nearly impossible to manage, but I'm persistent in my efforts. If he escapes, he will tell them where I am. While he sleeps, I scavenge through his belongings. He carried only a small backpack and had a few items in his jacket pockets. Since he won't be going anywhere anytime soon - or ever - I claim all the items as my own. They will come in handy. A sharp pocket knife, a plastic water canteen, a small first aid kit, and matches among other things. The knife is etched with "J.M." and I can only assume it's his name or the name of the person he stole it from.

I've already drank half the water I collected. I wanted to finish it. It took every ounce of control in my small body to leave him the rest. If I'm going to get any information out of him, he needs to be in good condition.

It's been hours since I dragged him down here. Getting him inside was the hardest part, especially with the threat of the drone inching closer. I nearly gave up and wanted to drop him inside, but it was too risky. I know a fair amount of healing, but I could never treat an injured neck or spine. Instead, I used the rope to slowly drop him into the dugout. I managed to get the boulder in place just in time.

Now, sitting in front of him, I wait with my newly claimed knife. Soon, his eyelids begin to move. They are far from opening, but it's a start. I am inches from his face, jaw clenched, waiting for his fluttering eyes to finally open.

"Who the hell are you?"

"What?" He asks in a raspy voice. His head falls forward and he grunts as he struggles to move his hands which I've tied behind the chair. "Ouch," he mumbles, barely a whisper.

"Who are you?" I repeat, louder and more demanding this time. I've lit only 3 of the candles in the room, placed equally around us. The light flickers with the wind of his movements, dancing across the dirt walls, illuminating the sweat on his angered face.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He responds, his voice full of annoyance. It seems that the more he wakes up, the more irritated he gets.

"J.M." I recite, clutching the knife firm in my hand, ready to attack if he manages to escape my knots. "What does that stand for?"

He is more alert at my newest question. I watch intently as he lifts his head, one thick eyebrow cocked upward in confusion and slight intrigue. He stays silent for a moment - a long moment - and I can't find the strength to ask again. He turns his head to the side, a sly smirk forming across his scarred face, before answering.

"John Murphy." His eyes roll to meet mine. They're huge, brown, intimidating. I stand my ground. Or at least try to. It's strange to hear my voice after all these years of trying to stay silent.

"John Murphy," I repeat with bravado. The name sounds foreign. He's definitely not Azgeda. "Who sent you here, John?" I ask, leaning forward, putting my weight on my elbows that rest upon my knees set far apart. I try my best to mimic my father.

"What kind of question is that?" He scoffs. His gaze on me is unwavering. I can't help but let my eyes fall to the floor. I always envisioned how I would meet another human again. It never went like this in my mind.

"Who sent you here? The drones? The woman?"

"Wha-" he stops, mouth parted, pondering with furrowed brows. "You mean Alie?"

I stand quick, knife up and pointed toward him. Slowly I back away, breathing heavy, blood pumping through my veins. I am in immediate danger.

"Woah," he breathes, and for the first time since he's awakened, his annoyance turns into fear. "Put the knife down," he says, stern yet barely audible.

"Where is she," I demand, knife shaking in my outstretched hands. I am prepared now, more than ever, to kill this man and leave this home to build a new one. If he knows where I am, she does too.

"Seriously, calm the fuck down. I'm not part of that City of Light bullshit, if that's what all this is about," he explains, his voice urgent and loud.

I'm at a complete loss for words. Frozen, I slowly inch the knife downward, staring at his pleading eyes the whole time. I am too shaken up to hold the knife - my trembling hands drop the blade to the floor and even the sound scares me. I can barely hear through the rush of blood blocking my ears.

John is still watching me. Studying me like a specimen he's never seen.

"I'm not a threat, okay? Just let me go."

I shake my head.

Rolling his eyes, he throws his head back cursing under his breath.

"How long are you gonna keep me tied up for?"

"Forever," I manage through shallow breaths.

John laughs as though he doesn't believe me, as if he is mocking my livelihood.

"So what - you're gonna keep me here until you decide you want to kill me?"

I lift my eyes off the ground and face his. I nod slowly.

"Great," he mutters as he shifts his position in the chair as much as the ropes will allow. I've tied them too tight to be comfortable. I can't risk him escaping - he's seen my home. While he doesn't know how to get here from the spot I captured him at, it's not far and these woods aren't too confusing. If he is chipped, he will stop at nothing to drag me down too.

I might have to kill him.

I might have to kill the only human I've seen in seven years.