GRIFFIN E. WALKER
May, 2020

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Everything was going according to plan.

Then it wasn't.

Blaming myself for every action taken that got me to where I was, my situation could've been worse.

I could've already been shot. I was not. Sure, the blows to my stomach felt deathly, the taser pressed into my skin sent shocks through my entire system like I've never felt before, but I was alive. Breathing. I had a chance at survival.

Plus, this man was not going to do me a favour and end my life. He knew, that in the end, it would put him to the same fate. Battling it out in hell would've been unfair to him.

I would've won down there.

Tied securely to a chair, my head rolled from shoulder to shoulder as a fist collided with my cheek. The area bruising, my lip busted and bled for a while. Eventually, the crimson liquid dried but the next blow ripped the scar open. Groaning as my head fell back, eyes closed, my throat stuck out. A mixture of sweat and blood trickled down my face, my breathing heavy.

A low chuckle emitted from the man before me, my eyes slowly opening as he shook his head. He inspected his knuckles as my head moved up properly, a smirk tugging on my lips at the thought of still being alive. It seemed my pain tolerance was much higher than I ever thought. Granted, the way it was brought to my attention didn't feel nice, at least I knew how far I could be pushed.

"Such a pretty face," he muttered, his fingers squeezing my jaw tightly. Finding it impossible to turn my head, he eventually let go, his hand pushing my face away. The dull pain his firm hand left behind was nothing compared to what he did next.

My body fell backwards into the nothingness. Unable to move, my heart stopped. The chair tilted under me until it came to a halt stop. A chain, attached to the high ceiling, kept me hanging over an empty pit on the two back legs of the chair. The loud squeal leaving my lungs echoed in the empty warehouse.

The rhythm of my unbalanced breathing filled the air around me, swallowing as the swaying of the chain moved the chair every now and then. As I leaned my head slightly back, the weight pushed me closer to my falling, making me jolt up and tense my stomach. Intense pain shot through me as I had done that, eyebrows furrowing as the memory of his shoe came in contact with my abdomen.

"You know," his voice came from next to me, suddenly. Leaning on his knees, his back was bent, close to me. "I don't enjoy this any more than you."

"Hard to believe," I pressed the words through my teeth. Feeling the sweat build on my palm from the thought of being so high up, my fingers curled into fists.

"But I would be lying if I said it'd hurt me to see you fall five stories down," he continued speaking as though he tried to make a point. "I do wonder how you ended up on the boss' bad side, then again I'm glad to be working."

His words shouldn't have made me act out of frustration. But my mouth moved on its own, collecting the saliva built up and spitting it through the little hole between my lips. The white bubbles hit him right between his eyebrows, though his monobrow was unreal, sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Using a swift motion, he wiped it off with the sleeve of his clothing, kicking my chair back to stand on four legs. He muttered under his breath as his rough hand ripped off whatever held my wrists together, shoving me onto the floor in no time. My head hit the ground, making me dizzy.

Scrunching my face up, my eyes squeezed shut, I couldn't have prepared for the kicks to my stomach if I tried harder. My body squirmed, unable to control it. It seemed to become a problem for him as he pressed the taser to my neck, making me go almost numb—it felt almost like a cramp but it travelled through my entire body. It presented the perfect opportunity to score another blow to the bruised area.

The heavy panting caused by the number of attacks to my body was all I could hear. The kicks came every thirty seconds until they didn't. I tried to catch my breath as a groan escaped my lips, pushing myself onto my back with knees bent as my feet met the floor beneath me.

Next thing I knew, I was grabbed from behind and held up. My body slouched, my head rolling before someone pushed it upwards, a cold finger under my chin.

Blinking repeatedly, Sagar's face came into view. She wore a satisfied smirk on her red, painted lips. "Look at where you are, my darling," she tutted, disappointed, her eyes following the single line of blood trickling down from my temple. "All because of a man. It's a shame."

"What have you done to him?" I growled, snatching my head from her touch as it buckled to the side. My hair stuck to my sweaty skin, making the heat unbearable. "Where is he?"

"You shouldn't worry about him, dear. You have yourself to save," she spoke as though she was reassuring me, my heart accelerating at her smug tone. Sagar played with her words, making my mind jump to conclusions I did not like.

Her right-hand man missing, it was easy to connect the dots.

"Ma'am," a man on right spoke, holding a device in his hand. My eyesight wasn't up to speed, the dizziness of my head beginning to overtake control. "There has been a breach at base."

That had to be the others. Right?

"Let's head back," she said, keeping her eyes on me as she passed the man, still holding me, a key. "Take care of her."

Dragged out of the room as Sagar remained there, conversing with her people, groans purred from my chest, head feeling lighter as each moment passed. Unsure of where he decided to take me and not having the energy to pay attention, the last thing on my mind was the feeling of the taser pressed into my back, much stronger than any of the other times.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The feel of ropes tightened around my wrists, made me groan. My head hanging down, my chin was pressed in, resting on my collarbones. Moving to ease the uncomfortable position, my first thought was: can they stop fucking tying me up?

Biting down on my back teeth, my jaw clenched, eyes opening little by little. The first thing before me was my thighs, the material of my jeans dirty and cut up. Moving my right leg, I hissed, noticing the long scar from my knee to mid-thigh. The blood was somewhat dry and it didn't look too deep.

Gradually moving my head to get used to the brightness of the light, Harry looked back at me. Exhaling through my mouth as relief flooded through me, my mind could finally calm down. He was safe and alive, not a scratch on his face. Although that scared me more than anything because he simply wasn't moving, either.

Sweat bubbled around his hairline, the yellow glow reflecting on the droplets. He seemed disorientated, the fast movement of his eyes never bumping into mine. I felt my heart drumming against my chest, following a reckless rhythm. Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.

"Harry. Hey. Listen to me," I spoke to him again, noticing the paleness of his complexion. "Fuck," I muttered as my wrist continued to be stuck. There was no way to slide my hand out of the hold unless I did the thumb trick—but I was not about to dislocate my fucking finger. The thought of that made me nauseous.

At that point, Harry looked confused. He glanced around, moving his head faster than before, his chest heaved at a more enhanced pace. Still, he said nothing. Although his mouth wanted to move, I could tell he had no real control over it.

There was only one explanation for his doziness. It should've made sense right away but I didn't think it could've been the case.

Thinking through my options, there was only one I could pick to get out of the hold and help him. Hunching forward then swinging back was difficult. My stomach ached, the scar on my leg opening as I pushed myself to get into a rhythm. I needed to fall onto my back so the chair would break.

But I was tired. My body hurt. It felt impossible.

Feeling frustrated, tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, my mind telling me how pathetic my behaviour was. I acted cocky and like I knew how to get shit done when I wore a dress, fitted to pop my tits but the minute a single rope tied me to a chair, I acted like a fucking baby, in need of saving.

"C'mon," I mumbled, pushing myself to break free. I needed the adrenaline to edge me over this, to give me the strength to fall back and—screaming, my back finally smashed against the cement floor.

Breathing out heavily, my eyes closed for a second. I did it. I fell back. There was a quiet crack as it happened, making me believe it was the chair. Pulling up my left arm, it moved freely, the poles going down to create a backrest for furniture, now broken.

Holding my breath as I reached for one of the sharper parts, I angled it so it rubbed against the rope. Expecting the burn to come sooner, each upwards movement of my wrist was worse than the one before it. Eventually, it loosened the rope, making it easier to tug apart. With a thump, it fell to the floor and I was free.

Trying to throw the door open, it did not budge. Something kept it tightly locked. After wasting seconds, my feet hurried me over to Harry. My right hand going on the back of his head as my left hoisted his jaw, the warmth of his skin making me frown. Securely leaning his head back, it came as no surprise when his dilated pupils did not react to the light. At all.

"Oh my goodness," my hand pressing against his burning forehead made me panic, wiping my hands in my jeans to dry off the collected sweat from his skin.

Moving around him, his hands were red and raw, bound by a zip tie. He must've been harshly tugging on them. Squatting down, I held back the long bit, pushing my nail against and down the part that locked the tie in place. That unlocked it and I could slide the longer part out of its hook, freeing Harry in seconds.

Placing his arm around my shoulder, I helped him get up from the chair and we moved over to the mattress on the floor. It seemed like they kept him here, noting the tray of food and two glasses of untouched water. Did he really go without eating or drinking anything?

Cursing under my breath as I realised, once he was set down properly on the floor, leaning against the wall, I reached for the water. Dipping my finger into it, it felt cold. No smell. It didn't burn my finger tip, either. Raising it to check how clean it was, when nothing seemed to swim around in it, I slowly brought it to his lips.

"Drink," I said gently, bringing him closer. Leaning his head against me, I noticed his erratic breathing. His forehead was so warm that I couldn't keep him close to me. Putting the glass down, I helped him out of the shirt. His skin red and flaming up, sweat rolling off of his chest as the shirt no longer soaked it up. To try and get his attention, I put my hands on his cheeks, the enlarged pupil of his eyes surprising me again. They were huge. "Can you hear me?"

He looked at me and then away. Gently, he licked his lips and nodded, his eyes hooded as he was barely present. Glancing down to steady him and pick up the glass again, I noticed the little holes near his veins in the crook of his arm. Pressing my eyes shut, I exhaled through my nose. The simple thought of the amount of cocaine in his system was making me want to be sick on sight.

The fact that he ate nothing for hours on end, made this worse.

"Can you take a sip of this for me?" I brought it closer to his lips again, watching as he opened them slightly, mine copying his. Tilting the cup, the smallest amount poured in his mouth, closing it quickly as he swallowed. Repeating the action a couple of times, it suddenly felt like I could breathe again. "Okay, good," I spoke, swapping the water for his shirt to wipe his sweat a little.

How long will the others be? Where the fuck are they?

Although it was mainly my fault that the plan went to shit and I got taken, the only thing that seemed to matter to me was Harry's well-being. He leaned against the wall to cool his back as I used his shirt to fan him. Giving him some sort of comfort whilst trying to slow his heart rate. When my hand pressed over his chest, it felt like he was going to have a heart attack and I'd be lying if I said there were no tears on my cheeks.

I felt so fucking helpless. Not to mention that it was my fault he ended up here, in a situation like this. Again.

"Are you with me?" feeling a light squeeze on my left hand, his answer made me feel better. My right hand brushed his hair to the side, trying to make him feel better. Clearly, the cocaine was affecting him more negatively than positively. It was more than likely the amount, as well as the fact that he received it on an empty stomach. "Good... I'm going to need to pour this water over you to help your heart clam down. Are you ready?" he was barely focusing on my words but we had no time. Using my hand to brush it through his hair, he closed his eyes, gulping as the cold sensation ran over him. "Alright... okay, don't fall asleep on me."

"Hurts," he muttered very quietly. His voice hoarse, thick with the emotion he described.

"Where?" I helped him sit up, moving slightly to face him from the front. His hand moved in a circle, showing at his body. "Everything hurts?" he swallowed deeply as he nodded, his eyes closing for a bit longer than they should have. "Hey, look at me," I cradled his face. I couldn't get used to the dilated pupils, the way his sweat trickled down the side of his face. "We'll go soon, okay? Can you hold on for me? Just a bit longer."

His body fell against mine as he rested. Doing my best to help him, I softly blew cold air down on him, continuously wiping his sweating body, giving him the most I could. This was the worst possible situation to be in. Not knowing what was happening out there, without a way out of this room, my patience was growing thin.

The door almost falling off of its hinges, it opened with a forceful movement. Slamming against the wall, the natural light beamed inside the room, blinding me and Harry as we faced the exit. Callum came into view instantly, shouting behind him for more back up as he stepped in, rushing to us. Asking what was wrong and what happened, I found it hard to breathe, my tears blurring my vision completely.

"We need to go to the hospital right now," I said hurriedly, standing up as my cousin helped Harry up from the mattress. "I don't know when he was drugged or how much or who did it or why but he's—he needs to be washed out or cleaned or I don't fucking know what they do just—we need to go. Now."

A man and a woman, equally muscular, rushed in the room, helping Callum take Harry out of the room. Walking on shaking legs, I followed them, my heart plummeting in my chest as my eyes adjusted to the lighting. Not even paying attention to where we were, I sat in the same car they put Harry in, the vehicle turning on and we were on our way.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The noise was constant. It was a rhythm. I got used to it and it calmed me down.

I wasn't sure how long I had been in Harry's room, my sense of time had gotten lost. The moment I was free to leave, I did. The chair under me was warm from how long my ass had been on it. My hand became sweaty from holding Harry's all this time.

It came as a surprise when his fingers started to wiggle in my hold. Moving back suddenly, I caught him opening his eyes, the lights irritating it as he had them closed for so long. Eventually, he got used to it, the glow no longer being too harsh on him. Compared to my state, he looked absolutely flawless.

"Hey," I whispered, pulling back from his hand as he lifted it from its position. Using both of them, he wiped the sleep from his forest eyes. Once the pair finally landed on mine, relief shot through me, a small smile accompanying the sigh that stumbled through my chapped, bitten lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a bus. Then someone drove over me with said bus. Two-," he lifted two fingers. "-times."

I chuckled as a smile danced on his lips.

"I'm gonna let your friends know you're awake," I cleared my throat, remembering that we were not in a position to just jump back to kisses and cuddles. Before all of this happened, we had an argument. A really bad one. It felt really bad to me, at least.

Harry's face changed. It dropped. His smile disappeared and instead, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I thought we could talk?" he spoke.

"We can—and we should. We need to talk," I agreed. "But not right now. You're barely alive."

"Okay," he nodded, looking away from me. Even though he shouldn't have pushed me to talk, some parts of me, wanted him to. My heart sank in my chest before I knocked it back up, reminding myself that this shouldn't be about me. It was not.

"Okay," I repeated the word gently, nodding as I stood up from the chair. Brushing my fingers gently over the back of his hand, my body was already facing the door, aching from the torture. I hated leaving him after he was barely breathing in my arms hours ago.

He tugged on my hands, his fingers laced through mine as he spoke, "Griffin?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for looking out and taking care of me."

He smiled and I bit down on my bottom lip. I didn't want to cry. But I was overwhelmed from everything that happened today. The stress and shock got to me.

"'Course," I whispered as I squeezed his hand and walked out of the room before he caught the stubborn tears falling from my eyes.