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Tessa’s heart pounded as she picked up her pace, her mind set on the final stretch home. Just a few more steps and she’d be safe. But before she could even think to run, a hand clamped around her arm, yanking her back with a force that stole the breath from her lungs. Panic surged through her as she tried to scream, tried to fight, but before the sound could leave her throat, a rag was shoved into her mouth, muffling every desperate plea. Her vision went black as a bag was forced over her head, the world around her swallowed whole. She kicked, thrashed, clawed at anything she could reach, but it didn’t matter. She was being dragged, taken somewhere she didn’t know by someone she hadn’t even seen. Terror gripped her chest, her breaths coming sharp and ragged as she struggled in vain. Why? Why her? What did they want? It wasn’t until the chaos died down—until she heard their voices through the haze of her own panic—that the words hit her like a brick to the ribs. Cole sold her out. The fight drained from her limbs all at once, her body going slack. He sold her out? No. No, that couldn’t be right. He would never—would he? The thought sent ice flooding through her veins. He was the one person she trusted, the one person who was safe. Had she been wrong? Had she been blind this entire time? Her mind raced, spiraling between disbelief and betrayal, but none of it made sense. What had he done? What had he told them? And most importantly—was he okay? She wanted to believe there was an explanation, a way this could all be some terrible misunderstanding, but the voices around her didn’t lie. Cole had done something, and now she was theirs. When she was finally dropped into a wooden chair, the cold seeped through her thin clothes, biting at her skin. The air in the room was thick, suffocating, and the only sound was the harsh rasp of her own breathing beneath the bag still covering her head. Then—just for a second—she swore she heard him. Cole. Her stomach twisted, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over her. He was here. But why? To gloat? To watch? Or was he in just as much trouble as she was? She didn’t know, and the uncertainty clawed at her, filling her with a sickening dread. When the silence stretched on too long, she shifted, her wrists bound, her body trembling. She felt like a caged animal, trapped and helpless, and the overwhelming helplessness made her snap. She spat the rag out and spoke fare too quickly. “I—where am I?!” she cried, her voice raw with desperation. “I don’t know what I did, but I—I’m sorry! Please, let me go—my family, they’re waiting for me!” Her voice cracked, tears spilling freely, dampening the fabric over her face. She didn’t know if she was begging or trying to scare them, but none of it mattered. No one responded. The silence that followed was louder than any answer could have been. |
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Cole sat there; he didn’t dare think, his thoughts were too corrupt. Filled with so much hate he feared he would say something, something that would cause a beating. His eye’s slowing started to ease from pain, and he was able to do more. He felt around his hands on which the rope was tied on. Every inch Cole moved the rope cut into his skin until he felt sure his bone was showing. Curling his fingers around he began to pick at the rope. Wire by wire, hundreds, thousands, he worked out until the rope was no longer brown but a crimson red. His nails trimmed back as the friction of the rope became too much to bear showing fresh skin, still he worked on. Not for himself, no, he knew in his heart he was too past saving but if he could just reach Tessa, just help her in any way. He worked for hours, his fingers feeling like chalk, ready to snap at any moment. The guard had now fallen asleep, he was snoring which, to Cole, sounded more like the ocean but he continued to work until one hand was free, “Yes!” he said quietly checking to make sure the guard hadn’t heard. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the only thing he carried with him at all times, a match. One single match, damp from his blood, but still a match. Using his free hand, he pushed the match against the chair, once, twice, the bottom of the match broke but the top was still together. Finally on his final attempt before giving up he managed to see a little smoke. Filled with determination he continued to strike the match until a small ember fell off. It briefly hit the ground causing no flame. Again, he struck the match causing a small flame to appear. Gently placing the match with his free hand on the ground he watched it ignite the surrounding dry leaves. It grew and grew. With the guard still sleeping he managed to move the rusty chair, on which he was tied down on, further away from the growing flame. The smell grew stronger, and the guard woke up with a fright. He stumbled out the door and rang a nearby bell. “Everyone out, get the girl” he yelled leaving Cole sitting near a growing fire, ‘great their gonna leave me here to burn, at least Tessa will get out and hopefully manage to escape in the chaos’ he said his voice choking. The guards yelled at each other ‘What about the kid? ‘Leave him he’s no good for us’ Cole watched as Tessa was dragged in front of his door. Their eyes meeting for a split second before being engulfed by smoke. ‘I gotta get myself out of here’ Cole worked on the rope stuck to his hand, his finger’s getting numb by the second. ‘Help me’ he yelled the flames coming closer. It was one last attempt at survival for any human. Call for help. |
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Tessa sat in the chair, her body wracked with silent sobs, tears carving hot trails down her cheeks for what felt like an eternity. The fear clawed at her chest, tightening its grip with every passing second. Why was she here? What did they want? The uncertainty was suffocating, worse than any pain they could have inflicted. They hadn’t touched her, hadn’t harmed her in the way she feared most—and somehow, that was even worse. It meant they had a plan, something bigger, something more sinister. Had she done something wrong? Or was this just a cruel mistake? No—it wasn’t. Cole had given her up. Whether it was her location, her name, or something else entirely, he had put her here. That truth settled into her stomach like a stone, heavy and unshakable. But why? What had he traded her for? Was he still alive? She didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore, and eventually, exhaustion won. She let her body slump forward, her mind slipping into a restless darkness. Maybe, just maybe, when she woke up, she’d be home, and this would all be a nightmare. Her family would look for her. They’d come for her. They had to. She clung to that hope like a lifeline as unconsciousness took her. The acrid sting of smoke tore her from sleep, her chest tightening as she gasped awake. The air burned her throat, thick with heat, and panic slammed into her all at once. The hood was yanked from her head, her teary, swollen eyes blinking against the sudden exposure. Rough hands grabbed her, dragging her forward. Her head spun, the world a blur of flickering flames and suffocating heat. And then—she saw him. Her heart plummeted to her stomach. Klaus. He was tied up in the center of the fire, his body limp, his head swollen from what had to be a brutal beating. Her breath hitched, and then the terror set in. They weren’t going to help him. They weren’t going to take him with them. They were leaving him there to die. The realization shattered something inside of her. A scream tore from her throat, raw and desperate, her body thrashing with every ounce of strength she had left. “No—No, you can't leave him—Please!” she wailed, kicking and flailing against the men holding her back. She had to get to him. He needed help. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, couldn’t run. The fire swallowed him, the orange glow blocking him from view, and she lost all control. She fought like hell, clawing at the hands restraining her, her voice breaking as she sobbed his name over and over again. But there were too many of them. She was too weak, too helpless. They dragged her out of the burning building, forcing her down onto the cold, unforgiving ground outside. Her screams turned to sobs, her cries for him coming softer, more broken, more hopeless. She called for him again and again, but no answer came. |
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Cole watched as the flames consumed the doorway leading up to the roof. At least Tessa’s out, he thought, but the flicker of hope quickly died as his own escape seemed increasingly impossible. His legs were still bound to the chair, and the fire crept closer with each passing second. A desperate thought struck him: I have to burn the rope. His free hand fumbled for a leaf that was already turning to ash. "C'mon..." he muttered, his voice trembling with fear as the fire inched closer, licking at the edges of the roof. If it reached the hay above, the entire structure would come crashing down, feeding the flames. The heat was suffocating, and beads of sweat slid down his face, stinging the open wounds on his skin. The rope was half-burned now, but with every inch he scorched, the fire crept nearer. "Please... help me," he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular—just hoping for a miracle, praying for an enemy to turn into an unlikely savior. In a final act of desperation, he threw his body forward, toppling the chair. He crashed into a patch of flames that had begun to spread, but he didn't stop. Using every last ounce of strength, he crawled toward the door, now a charred ruin surrounded by hungry fire. Each movement sent waves of pain through his body, but he pushed through, dragging himself forward with nothing but one free arm. His mind began to cloud with the image of Tessa screaming, her voice echoing in his head like a piercing arrow. He had failed her. Again. Maybe for the last time. The thought made his chest tighten, but the fire pressed on, forcing him to keep moving. He crawled, inch by inch, every movement agony. The chair still clung to him, a cruel reminder of his helplessness. Hours seemed to pass. The pain in his sides was unbearable, the seat digging into him as he struggled to escape the hell he was trapped in. But finally, he reached the door. His free arm had been burned so badly that he could no longer feel it, but he could see the red glow of flames from every direction, closing in. He felt around desperately, searching for any escape. His fingers brushed against something cool—dirt. There, in the ashes, was a small hole. Tessa’s frantic efforts had left it behind. He clung to the dirt, muttering a quiet thank you to her memory. Fire couldn’t spread where dirt existed. He cleared the debris away, using his charred hand to deepen the hole, trying to create some kind of sanctuary. But the chair was still tied to him, and every moment he spent here, his chances of survival slipped further away. He ignored the mounting fear and focused on what little hope he had left. The fire was closing in. The heat intensified, and he could hear the roof collapsing in the distance, cracking as flames devoured everything in their path. Cole closed his eyes, his body twisted in an awkward position, his arm and feet bound. The fire was nearly upon him, but he couldn’t move anymore. His head spun with the suffocating heat, and then, everything went silent. It was cold. No more pain. A strange, peaceful feeling washed over him. |
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Tessa watched as the building was swallowed by fire, her body trembling as fresh tears blurred her vision. She didn’t understand. None of it made sense—what they wanted, what Cole had done, what any of this was supposed to mean. And maybe she didn’t want to understand. Maybe knowing would only make it worse. All she could do now was worry. God, she was so worried. She had done everything to protect him. Watched over him. Kept him safe. And now… now she didn’t know. He had to be alright. He had to. Someone would save him. Someone had to. Right? Her eyes darted wildly, scanning the figures around her. One of them had a heavy hand on her shoulder, keeping her pressed into the dirt, making sure she didn’t run. The others didn’t move. Some simply watched the flames consume everything, while others just stood there, staring at her. Cold. Indifferent. Why weren’t they helping him? Why was he tied up? Why weren’t they helping him? The heat from the fire seared against her skin, but she barely felt it, barely registered the scent of burning wood and scorched earth filling her lungs. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, frantic, desperate. Then, something shifted. A flicker of motion at the edge of the firelight as her mind imagined something she could only wish would happen. Her mind was playing tricks on her, trying to make her stay hopeful. Cole. He was struggling, his body tense against the ropes cutting into his wrists. His face twisted in pain, in something she couldn’t quite name, and for a single, fleeting second, their eyes met. The air was knocked from her lungs. No words. No pleas. Not even an attempt to explain. Just that split-second hesitation, that unbearable weight of knowing. She almost wished it was real. She could convince them to help him she could - could- Before she could scream at them, make them help, demand answers, a rough hand grabbed her and shoved the hood back over her head. Panic hit like a tidal wave, and she thrashed, kicking and clawing at anything she could reach. Someone grunted in pain as her foot connected, but the victory was short-lived—a sharp crack exploded against the back of her skull, and the world collapsed into darkness. Even as she slipped under, tears kept falling. The pain was nothing. Not compared to the ache in her chest. Somewhere in the void, a vision clawed its way into her mind. The thatched-roof building, burned to the ground. Ashes and ruin. And there, in the wreckage, a charred body—one she knew, even though the fire had taken everything from it. Cole. Her stomach twisted. Her hands clenched. Pain and rage surged through her in equal measure. This was her best friend. Her person. More than a brother. More than a partner. The one soul she had trusted above all else, and yet— He had led them to her. They told her as much. They said he was the reason they’d found her. But why? For what? Money? A deal? She remembered every whispered promise, every reckless plan, every moment they’d spent building a world where it was them against everything. And now, it was all gone, torn apart by whatever choice he had made. But the worst part? A part of her still refused to believe it. In the vision, she was digging. A hole, deep in the dirt near the river where they had spent too many summer days as kids. She buried him there, kept him safe even in death. Because even after everything—even with betrayal poisoning her blood—she still couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she woke up. The hood was gone. The ropes, too. Instead, she was lying on a thin mattress in a dimly lit room, the air thick with something stale and unwelcoming. Her body ached, and when she lifted a hand to her head, she felt the rough texture of a bandage. Someone had patched her up—tended to the bruises and cuts she’d earned while fighting like hell to get back to him. But he wasn’t there. Because he was gone. The reality of it settled over her like a weight too heavy to bear. Every breath felt like shards of glass scraping against her ribs, sharp and unforgiving. Her throat tightened, but she didn’t make a sound. Only silent tears fell, soaking into the fabric beneath her. He wasn’t her best friend anymore. He couldn’t have been. A friend wouldn’t do this. A friend wouldn’t leave her to rot. But she wasn’t dead yet. And if they thought she was going to sit here and let them take everything from her, they were wrong. She would grieve him later. For now, she had to find out why they wanted her. Then, maybe... just maybe... she could find a way out of here, back to her family, back to her home. |
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Cole woke up the night beginning to fade into day. His burned covered in burns, "But I'm alive" he said amazed. He looked down at his skin, blisters popping up like a diseases, "But I'll never be the same" The chair was now hard charcoal connected to his body the rope now burnt from both feet and his hand. He sat up pain searing in every part of his body his head uncontrollably spinning, “Tessa” he yelled out but nothing, no reply, just the sound of silence which stung his heart. They had taken her, where? He didn’t know. He needed help both medically and for Tessa. The only people he cared and trusted the most was Tessa’s family. Cole walked and walked nothing seemed recognizable, “Where am I?” New people everywhere, brushing past him, not having a care in the world for his questionable look and wounds. Then it hit him, he had been taken somewhere far away. Tessa was gone; his world was gone. The thought was too much to bear and he sat down tearing the flesh of the painful wounds, blood poured causing a puddle of blood to appear. It was then that a kind and gentle woman walked past, seeing his wounds, his face, she lifted his arm without saying anything and guided Cole towards a building. Cole staggered in and being forced on a bed where people surrounded him. Tools were pocked into him, and then a mask went over his face causing him to become sleepy. He drifted off thinking about Tessa, he just needed to get to her. He needed to help her. He awoke soon to find his whole body wrapped in a white material from head to toe, only his mouth and eyes were uncovered. He looked to his side and immediately recognized two police officers, there dark blue t-shirts caused Cole to flinch. Cops went trouble, big trouble. He tried pulling away when one came near but to no avail, every bone in his body hurt, “Tell us what happened” the man said smiling at Cole placing his hand on Cole's shoulder. Cole drew his body away from the cop and stared at him, the pain in his eyes almost too much to bear, “Where’s Tessa? Did you find Tessa?” The cops looked at each other puzzled, “Who’s Tessa” Cole flung himself forward ripping any stitches that were holding his wounds in place from his back open, “Tessa?” He Yelled filling the hospital with his voice. Nurses rushed in to drag him to surgery. Cole reached out his hand and grabbed the Cops, “Please find Tessa” he let go. Cole had never touched someone’s hand before, well except Tessa’s, but a cop was a different story. They didn’t care about the slums, instead choosing to stay well aware of them and only entering when forced to. It was different today. They came to him, whether it was for their own purposes he didn’t care, he just needed to know Tessa was ok…...that she was still alive. |
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Teresa sat on the bed, her body aching, her heart slamming against her ribs. She didn’t know what these people wanted, but they hadn’t... hurt her. Not really. Not yet. Someone had bandaged her head, their touch impersonal, efficient. That was almost worse. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the throbbing in her skull worse. A small window sat high on the wall, letting in a sliver of daylight that made her headache pound harder. Where am I? What do they want? The questions raced through her mind, tangling together until she couldn’t tell which was more important. She had to think. Had to focus. If she knew why they took her, maybe she could talk her way out. She could pretend to be someone else—someone harmless. But no, that wouldn’t work. Cole had screamed her name. Let them know exactly who she was. If they hadn’t known before, they did now. Teresa exhaled shakily and forced herself to stand. Her legs wobbled, but she stayed upright, one hand pressed against the wall for balance. The pain in her head was sharp, but she ignored it and made her way toward the window. The glass was grimy, distorting the outside world, but she could see enough. Buildings. People. A village—not quite a slum, but nothing close to the place she’d imagined herself escaping to. She swallowed hard, fingers tightening against the windowsill. Why me? Her mind churned through possibilities, but nothing made sense. The man who had been following them—she’d recognized him. The way he’d watched her, like she was something to be taken. But was that enough? No. This wasn’t random. It felt too planned. Her stomach twisted. Had Cole known? Had he led them to her? No—he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. But he had yelled her name, let these people know who she was. Had they gone after him too? Had he escaped? Was he alive? A sharp breath shuddered out of her. She sank onto the bed, gripping her knees, trying to slow the frantic beat of her heart. God, please. The door creaked open. Teresa’s head snapped up, her body going rigid. Two men stepped inside, their movements slow, deliberate. Behind them, two women followed. Their faces were unreadable, but their presence alone made her throat close with panic. She shrank back, pressing herself into the corner, trying to make herself small. They watched her. Measured her. Her lips trembled before the words even formed. “Where’s Cole?” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. She should have asked something else—should have played along, should have tried to find a way out. But the words slipped out before she could stop them. “I-is he okay?” she whispered. “Did you go back for him? Or—” Laughter cut through the room, slow and syrupy, dripping with something rotten. The man who stepped forward was well-dressed, but something about him was wrong. He had the kind of smirk that made her skin crawl, the kind that belonged to the filth that rotted in the streets. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, tilting his head, “didn’t you see the place burn with your precious little friend?” Her stomach twisted. She could have thrown up right then and there, could have let the panic take over completely, but she forced herself to breathe. To think. If they wanted to hurt her, they would have already. That meant they needed her. “Why am I here?” she whispered. The man’s grin widened. She still didn’t know. Hell, she might never know... but she had to find out, one way or another. |
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Cole's mind slowly returned to reality, the blurry figures around him gradually coming into focus. "Now, Tessa... who is Tessa?" the officer asked, standing up as he realized Cole was awake. Cole took a deep breath and began recounting the events that had happened before, though some parts were missing due to the times he had been knocked out. "Tessa has lightly tanned skin and deep, dark blue eyes. Her hair is brown, and she has a scar that runs from her top lip to her chin," he explained quietly. He fell silent, his eyes scanning the officers. "You know a lot about this girl," the cop said, giving Cole a questioning look. "Well, she's my best friend," Cole replied, sheepishly closing his eyes against the pain. "Get some rest," the officer said, his voice softer now. "We’ll be back shortly. We’ll try to find your friend, but with the little detail we have about your whereabouts... I’m afraid it's a long shot." He sighed before leaving the room. Left alone with his thoughts, Cole lay in the sterile hospital room, hooked up to various machines. Beeping filled the air as the machines performed their duties. But his mind wandered, thoughts growing darker. How easy would it be to just pull the cords? The officers weren’t going to waste time searching for what seemed like a needle in a haystack. If he wanted to see Tessa alive again, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. With a surge of determination, Cole grabbed the side of the bed. He pulled at the cords, ripping them from his skin, then stumbled out of the room without looking back. He followed the trail of blood that dripped from his wounds, leading him to a burnt-down house. There, he found faint markings in the dirt—barely visible shoe prints, just enough to follow. He followed them for what felt like hours, until they led him to a small, unassuming building. It was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. “What now?” he murmured to himself, scanning the area for any windows. There were none. His head pounded with every step closer to the building. He didn’t know if anyone was inside. Maybe he had been following random tracks, but then, he heard it. A voice, one that sounded eerily like Tessa’s. His hand throbbed, still wrapped in material and hanging at his side. He was alone—no one to lean on for help. The one person who had always been there for him was the one who needed saving now. "How am I fit enough to save someone?" he muttered, his heart sinking. "I’m a nobody." Doubts crept back in, stinging the resolve he had once felt. His hands were covered in wounds, but the deepest ones were the ones in his heart. He didn’t deserve Tessa. Maybe the mystery man was right—he could offer her everything... but most importantly, a better life. "Why would she want me to save her? I screwed up big time," Cole whispered, his eyes darting nervously to the streets, looking for somewhere to hide. "I'll just wait and watch. If nothing happens… then…" he trailed off, stopping himself before the thought could fully form. He walked toward a small, shady hole in a nearby building, hoping for a sign. |
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(I got a liiiiittle bit carried away on this oen xD) Tessa stared up at the man, her eyes hardening slightly. The dim, flickering light overhead cast eerie shadows across his face, making the hollows of his cheeks seem even deeper. Why wouldn’t they tell her anything? What was the plan?! “Why am I here?” she repeated, puffing her chest out as she tried to at least look like she wasn’t completely and utterly terrified. The air was thick, musty, tainted with the scent of sweat and something metallic—blood? Her own? She wasn’t sure anymore. Her throat was raw, like she’d been screaming for hours, though she could barely remember if she had. The ache in her skull pulsed like a heartbeat, and her limbs felt impossibly heavy. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the emptiness clawing at her chest, the sick feeling curdling in her gut when she thought of him—her best friend. She hadn’t even processed what he’d done. It still felt like a bad joke, a stupid argument they could patch up in a day. It wasn’t like he’d thrown her life away, gambled it like a meaningless chip in a game he didn’t even know how to play. It wasn’t like he’d— The man smiled at her. It was an ugly smile. Wrong. His cheeks didn’t wrinkle the way they should with a genuine expression, and his teeth—too perfect, too white—flashed like the gleam of a knife. His skin was an unnatural shade of tan, stretched too tight over his face, an artificial sheen catching the dim light. It looked fake, wrong, like everything about him. His cologne was suffocating, thick and sickly sweet, making her stomach twist violently. “You’re here because that boy of yours gave you to us,” he chirped, his voice too upbeat, too casual for what he was saying. The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her brows pinched together further, her stomach lurching. The bile burned her throat, and suddenly, she just felt sick. “He wouldn’t have—he wouldn’t do that to me,” she almost whispered, though her voice wavered, betraying her. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms, grounding her, forcing herself not to shake. He was her best friend. She knew him inside and out. She’d always told him everything. He was her family. She trusted him. He wouldn’t do that to her. She thought of every scraped knee, every bruised rib, every time she’d picked him up off the ground when the world knocked him down. She’d taken him in after every injury, patched him up, given him food when he had none, clothes when he was cold, water when he was burning up. She’d given him everything. She would never have given him up. So why— Why would he give her up? The air in the room pressed against her, thick and suffocating. The walls seemed closer than they had a second ago. The man took a step forward, and her breath hitched. The movement snapped her back to reality, and she shrank back, retreating to the farthest corner of the room, pressing herself against the cold, damp wall. Her hands came up, instinctively, protectively. Her heart pounded against her ribs, an erratic rhythm of fear. “He would,” the man said smoothly, still closing in. “And he did.” Her vision blurred for a moment, dark spots creeping at the edges. “But no need to worry now, Princess,” he almost slurred, his gaze raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. “Look at the state of you. Anyone who cared wouldn’t let it get this bad.” The way he purred those words sent a violent chill up her spine. His hand reached toward her, and something inside her snapped. A surge of anger crashed through her, obliterating her fear. How dare he—how dare he suggest that her best friend hadn’t cared? That she wasn’t worth caring about? Before she even realized what she was doing, her fist shot out, colliding with his face in a sickening crack. Pain flared through her knuckles, radiating up her arm. A sharp, hot sting—like fire beneath her skin. The man staggered back, hands flying to his nose as blood gushed between his fingers, dark and viscous, staining his pristine skin. The other men rushed forward, their movements frantic. Her chest heaved. She couldn’t breathe. The leader looked up at her. His eyes burned with rage, his face twisted in something monstrous. And then—Pain. A crushing, blinding, obliterating pain exploded in the side of her head. Her world tilted violently, her body slamming back against the wall with a choked, ragged gasp. A second passed. Maybe more. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred, black creeping in at the edges. The pain spread, searing, pulsing, a horrible ache that consumed everything. Her fingers trembled as they reached up, touching the bandaging on her head—now damp, now swelling. She barely had time to register the movement before— Another hit. Her jaw snapped to the side, and this time, the scream that tore from her throat was animalistic, raw, involuntary. The taste of copper flooded her mouth. Warmth dripped down her chin. Her body slumped, her limbs no longer hers to control. She could feel herself slipping. “I—I’m sorry! Please—I just want to go home,” she sobbed, her voice broken, her arms coming up weakly, desperately shielding her head. One more hit. One more, and she wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t be able to save herself, no matter how hard she tried. |
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Love it! So sorry it took me so long to reply. Work has been busy) - It was all too much to take. Cole sat in front of the house that might have Tessa inside. His brain screamed at him to run, to help her, but his legs refused to cooperate. It was as if they were punishing him, forcing him to stare at the house, half-expecting more beatings, maybe screaming. Hurt people hurt people, Cole told himself, blaming the pain on the mystery man, but maybe part of it was his own fault. What did he expect, being well-known as a fighter? Tessa had shown him it wasn’t a title to be proud of. Tessa’s family would be looking for her now, desperately trying to find any information, but no one would come forward. It wasn’t the way of the slums. People went missing every day; it was a daily occurrence. “At least Tessa has family to look for her,” Cole muttered bitterly. His pride and anger came flooding back. “I screwed up again. I’m a jerk,” he said, sinking into the shadows and pulling his eyes away from the house. He liked Tessa—hell, he was sure he loved her—but after all this? Forgiveness was out of the question. He didn’t want it. He didn’t deserve it. “No one deserves it,” he told himself. “It’s only for closure.” He closed his eyes briefly. “No… no… no! Stop!” Cole screamed, waking from the sleep that came upon him. ‘I’m too old to be having nightmares,’ he thought, but then he heard it. A sound, sharp and raw—pain. Torture. Unimaginable. He pulled himself up, grabbing a long piece of barbed wire. Sharp metal dug into his wounded hands, rusty spikes tearing into his flesh. If there was one thing Cole hated most, it was torture. Humans grow power through painful acts until that’s all they know. To kill is to win, the longer the better. He closed his eyes for a second, afraid of his own thoughts. But he pushed forward, clutching the barbed wire tighter, ignoring the pain. Every step hurt, but he couldn’t stop now. He made his way toward the front door of the house—the house where he thought Tessa was. “Please, please don’t let her be in here,” he whispered to himself, slowly opening the door. The squeaky hinge echoed deafeningly through the silence. Voices. Distant. Low. Deep. Angry. He recognized one voice—the mystery voice. “No… Tessa,” he whispered, hiding behind doorways, inching closer to where the men were speaking. She wasn’t with them. But then, a faint groan caught his attention. He slipped through the shadows, moving toward the noise. When he reached the door, he opened it cautiously and peered inside. A small figure came into view. “Tessa, Tessa, wake up. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shaking her small body gently in his hands. “Hang on, Tessa. Don’t let go. Don’t let go.” |
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Heavy Downpours, Flood Warning
