His Trophy | Jerome Valeska

seventeen

The police officer was circling around Rory like a fish stuck in a bucket. He was nervous, sweating and his constant movement was driving Rory insane. How could Jim do this to her? How could he abandon his only daughter to be the hero? Why couldn't he just be a father first instead of a cop?

Rory's head was spinning from the anticipation, any noise made her flinch which didn't help as her entire body was aching from her injuries. She couldn't even protect herself, she had to rely on a nervous wreck of a policeman to do that for her- a stranger who she didn't trust. How pitiful, she thought to herself as the policeman turned for the hundredth time.

"Please," her voice made him jump and his hand instinctively flying to his holster. He looked at her, his face wet and frightened.

"Could you stop walking? You're making me feel sick," she managed to croak out.

"S-sorry, ma'm," he apologised and stopped. He then sat in one of the chairs by the door, his eyes quickly scanning the window in the door.

"I'm-. Do... Is there anything I can do to make you feel comfortable?" he stuttered, trying to break the tension.

"No, just as long as you don't start pacing again I'll be fine," Rory responded with a weak smile, fiddling with the heart monitor that was clamped over her index finger.

"Do we have to stay in this room? Is there no other way to escape?" she asked after a short pause, she didn't want to simply wait for Jerome to show up and gamble on whether her bodyguard was a good shot.

The officer shook his head.

"You are not in the right condition to do anything serious, if I move you, your wound will re-open," he paused as he spoke, he looked at her stomach which was tucked under scratchy hospital sheets, and then looked her in the eye and smiled.

"And we don't want that to happen," he reassured.

Rory sighed at this. This would be so much easier if she had just died.

An awkward silence passed between them, letting the tension build back up.

"I didn't catch your name, officer," Rory inquired as she tried to distract herself from her thoughts.

"It's Portman, A-Andrew Portman," he responded, he was grateful that the two of them were talking, it helped calm his raging nerves.

"It's nice to meet you, Andrew," Rory responded.

"It's nice to meet you too, such a shame it has to be in these circumstances," he said as he smiled at her.

Rory studied him intensely as he responded, looking for any hint of an unhinged soul. He was a middle-aged man, built like a wall. It was actually quite shocking that such a big man was so timid at the anticipation of a fight. Officer Portman had smooth brown hair that was held down by his police hat, salt and pepper stubble that covered tanned cheeks, and brown eyes which had laughter lines outlining them. Yet, even though he was oozing nervousness, there was not an ounce of insanity on the man. He was the sanest person Rory had met in the last 3 months.

"Do you think we'll make it out of here?" she asked as her gaze fell to her hands. Her heart quickened as every second that passed.

"I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure that happens," he said, looking to Rory with a kind smile.

His words genuinely did comfort her. He reminded her of her mother, for some reason, and such a distant memory calmed her. She gave him a small smile back to try and reassure him just the same.

But deep down, Rory knew she had no chance of surviving tonight- which was something she had to settle with. Her fate was set in stone, she would either die or be taken by Jerome. There was no other option, no chance of escape.