Heroine of Holly Ridge

Chapter twelve

'It worked!' Melody's voice screeched. Now I've got a headache. 'Can you tune it down a little,' I ask hoping Alan didn't see me flinch. 'Where are you?' Melody asks a teense quieter. 'I'm on a train so I don't know where,'I respond. It's so weird talking in minds.

"Quinn, I asked you a question." It's Alan. I sigh,"Say that again?" Alan looks genuinely concerned. "Are you hungry or anything?" he asks. Melody's voice goes of at the same time so I can't hear what either of them are saying. "QUIET!" I yell.

Both Melody and Alan become so. "Let me think for a minute," I said. These voices are to much. I let go of my connection with Melody. It is much like being on the phone. You can hang up when you like. "Now. Say it one more time," I direct Alan.

"Okay..... are you hungry?" he asks. My stomach growls in response. Alan laughs and says ," I'll be right back." While I have the chance I work on breaking the chains. Grr. This takes a lot of my energy. Alan walks back in with a mug and I have to stop my ambitions.

He thrusts the mug at me and stares intently. My hands aren't actually able to reach my mouth because they are chained to my sides. I struggle a little and Alan realizes he's been foolish again. "Here let me help you," he gently grabs hold of the back of my neck and places the mug to my lips.

Before I do drink, I ask, "Wait what kind of blood is this?" Alan shakes his head glumly and says,"It's only pig." Only pig? I don't care right now. I lean my head back and drink little sips. Who knows when my next meal will be? After I've finished, Alan asks me some more questions. These are much more personal. And I don't answer.

So he walks out for a few minutes. As he walked back in Alan looked at me with a sad expression and a burly man followed him into the room. "Can't break her? Lemme have a try," he pushes Alan out the door. "No wait-" but Alan's voice is cut short as mr. Burly slams the door. "So the little girl won't spill the beams aye?" he sneered. I hate the way he talks to me.

Like I'm three or something.

He gathers some hay from a stack in the corner and lights a small fire. I'm not liking where this is going. He grabs a metal rod from his pocket. I hate metal rods. Have a very bad history with the devilish things.

Maybe I shouldn't hate them, but the wielders. He thrusts the simple device in the fire and keeps a hold of the end. As the rod turns a nasty orange he smiles wickedly at me. I gulp. He slowly rises up from his crouched position and stomps out the fire. The red hot poker in hand he walks over to me. "Now I can't say this isn't gonna hurt. Cause it is," he says as he presses the scalding iron on the tender skin on the back of my neck.

Right where Alan had gently held.

I scream with all my might. He continues to hold it and cackles. Finally after a few excruciating moments and a few more jabs, he stops. Alan rushes back. "See if she'll talk now," he laughs gesturing at my broken figure slumped in the chair. Alan stands still till the torturer leaves the train stall. Then he runs to me.

"Oh Quinn, I was wrong. So wrong," he lifts my head and looks into my green eyes. "Can you ever forgive me," he asks voice cracking with desperation. "Of course ,Alan," I say with a hoarse voice. Tears started rolling down his cheeks. He carefully touched my neck and I yelped. "I'm gonna get you out of here," he said.