The Price of Love

Chapter 20

Alex's PoV

I am a grade-a idiot. I got captured because of my stupidity, and now men will die trying to get me back, I might die here. Wherever here is. I have no idea where I am. I'm somewhere. My best guess is somewhere south of New York. The temperature is too warm to be New York, much too warm to be north of it, and it doesn't seem very strategic to have me placed somewhere west. I groan slightly, my head aching. I open my eyes and see... darkness. I'm blindfolded. Not as dumb as I would expect. I think. I turn slightly, trying to figure out what exactly is going on and to get my bearings. I can only move an inch in and direction, it seems I'm tied to a chair. My arms are ties, my legs are tied, a burlap sack is tied over my hands, and I'm gagged. Just great. I grumble silently. I mentally curse myself for my stupidity.

I hadn't eaten since John left. Only had a fleeting sip of water here and there. Hadn't slept. Even for me, that's on the brink of excessive. We were in the home stretch, only days from taking back the last of Albany. I decided to take a walk, clear my head of outside distractions and fine-tune the best course of action to take. I walked for about an hour and I was a few miles away from our camp. I stopped and leaned against a tree, squeezing my eyes shut. Sometimes, all the responsibility that's put on me weighs me down too much, and I just need a break. I let myself get lost in my thoughts, tuning out the gentle sounds of the forest around me. After a while, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around and whipped out my knife. I felt a heavy blow land on my head, and I fell unconscious.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I berate myself. You're an idiot Hamilton! Let's review. You had slow reaction time, you ignored your surroundings, you didn't tell anyone where exactly you were going or how long you'd be gone, you couldn't put up a fight due to the malnutrition you're subjecting yourself to- My thoughts are cut off when the blindfold and gag are ripped off of me. I glare up bayfully at the man. I recognize him in an instant. Tall, powdered (bleh) brown hair, outlandish uniform, General Cornwallis. "Hello Hamilton." He smirks. "It's been a while, no?"

"Cornwallis." I snarl. "I hoped I'd never get to see your face again." He chuckles.

"You haven't changed one bit since we last met." He says.

"Cut the bullshit. Just start sticking your knives in me already, because I'm not telling you shit." I hiss.

"Oh no, not so fast. We're going to starve you a little fir-"

"I'm already starving, I haven't eaten in the past month. Think of something else." I interrupt. He misses a beat. "And I haven't slept in a month either. Or had more than a few sips of water. So your only option is immediate physical pain." I say boredly. He glares at me, then whips around and stalks out. I look around, bored. It's a simple wooden shack with nothing in it besides another chair and a table. I hum softly to myself as I analyze the room, searching for a way out. "Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away." I sing softly. Cornwallis comes back with a knife.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." He's wasting his breath. "Either you tell me what I want to know right now, or we painfully extract it from you."

"We both know you're wasting breath." I respond calmly. "Just know that I'd suck your dick before giving you any information." He strides up to me and shoves the knife under my chin, pointing it into my neck.

"First." He snarls. "You'll tell me where your most vulnerable fronts are." I stare up at him impassively, face blank and unfeeling. He growls and presses the knife into my shoulder, drawing a line of blood. Seeing it has no effect on me, he presses it deeper, the blade sinking into my flesh. I wince slightly in pain, but it really doesn't hurt that much. He drags the knife across my skin, creating a decently long but shallow cut on my arm. I barely flinch.

"That tickled." I say. "Maybe you should try something else."

"Oh we will." He snarls. "We're going to drag out the last of your life Hamilton. When the time comes, you won't get the quick death a soldier deserves. But not yet. Oh no, not yet." He laughs menacingly and drives the knife deeper into my flesh. This time, I do flinch. He smiles and makes another cut on my arm, deep and long. Blood seeps from the wounds, staining my blue jacket. He pats my cheek. "You are going to eat and drink whether you want to or not." He says. He turns around.

"If you're going to force-feed me, can it at least be the standard-issued army ration?" I ask. He hesitates for a brief moment, then nods and leaves. I sigh deeply, trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do. It'll take a long time for anyone to find me. Lafayette's probably already sent out a few squads to search for me. My breaks never last longer than about an hour, it's been much longer than that. They'll have no idea where I am. And as valuable as I am, they'll devote a number of troops to guard me and make sure no one finds me. Chances of escape are nonexistent, as of now. I'll have to wait it out. Not something I'm good at. At all. Cornwallis comes back, a ration container in his hands. I sigh slightly and prepare to put up a fight. He sets the ration on the table with a small metallic bang and glares at me. I glare right back. He grabs a strip of meat from it and attempts to slip it in my mouth. I lock my jaw and jerk my head away from him. He grabs my face and tries to force my jaw open, then slaps me across the face when I refuse. I feel the stinging spread across my face, my eyes watering. He jabbed my eye. I part my lips slightly in a grimace, and he manages to shove the meat into my mouth, then holding my jaws closed, forcing me to chew and swallow. He keeps doing this until he's force-fed me the whole ration can, then forces water down my throat. I choke on it and cough hard for a few seconds.

"Good boy." He emphasizes the last word, trying to degrade me due to my age. I bare my teeth in anger at being called a boy and what that sentence would mean in a different circumstance. He tuts and shakes his head. "I'll be back in a few hours. You? You should sleep." He leaves, pushing aside a thick blanket that runs across the room, blocking my view of the area where the door is. I glare around in the semi-darkness, the light leaking in through the cracks of the logs starting to fade away. I stifle a yawn, not wanting to fall asleep here. But exhaustion crashes onto me like a tidal wave. My head dips down and hits my chest. I nap back up, forcing my eyelids open. Stay awake. They might talk, give away the location we're at. Stay awake you fucking moron. I think harshly. But alas, my body doesn't like that idea. My eyelids drop down over my eyes, my head lolls to the side, and I fall asleep in an instant.