Neela hovered over Dean for a couple of seconds. Stared painfully at the wound on his stomach, and swallowed before lowering the food on the night stand.
"Hey," She called not too loudly, "Wake up."
He blinked once and without looking at her, shut them again, and remained silent and unmoving.
"I brought you some food. You have to eat." She tells him.
He doesn't answer and she rolls her eyes and walks over to the desk, "Come on, it's already been two weeks. And you're literally too skinny for my liking right now. Just eat."
She sits and spins around in the chair facing the shirtless man, "I've gotta change your dressing when you're done."
"Let me go outside." Dean suddenly says.
"..."
"Please."
"No."
"I'll eat. If you let me go outside."
"Is that supposed to be a trade off." Neela smirks,"Doesn't seems very fair does it?"
"I need air. I need to get out of this room." He turns his head to look at her, "It's been two weeks like you said. Please."
For a man saying please he didn't look very pleading to Neela. It's was an untrustworthy exchange to her. His eyes were narrowed, his raspy voice thick and low; all thanks to his refusal to drink anything.
"You hardly ever left to your apartment. Only for work, or to go to some lame bar. Now you suddenly crave the outdoors? It's a little suspect I gotta admit. Won't you just run away?"
"You can tie my hands. Or whatever. Blindfold me on your way out even, whatever you need."
"Eat first." Neela demanded, "And I'll think about it."
He swallowed. She knew this because his adam's apple bobbed as he did. It must've been painful, to swallow with such a dry mouth and such a dry throat.
He lifted his wrist as far as he could, "I can't eat with my hands in cuffs." He muttered.
Neela reaches in one of the drawers from the desk she sat on and grabbed the remote for the cuffs she placed on him. They weren't ordinary cuffs. She didn't want him to suffer too much so she needed something that allowed mobility at times. The cuffs where connected to chains that extended and retracted with a push of a bottom. She pressed the blue one, to the left, and then the right. And watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and extensive relief. He tried sitting up but frowned in pain instead. Lied flat for a second, he expression changed like he was going to cry.
Two weeks in bed without moving is painful for the body, his muscle mass would have lessened, oxygen levels lessened, blood flow would have lessened by 30 percent at least. And he would be sore and cramping at his joints. Neela was aware of the pain he'd be in.
She wanted to help him sit up. Everything in her screamed to do so. But she had to make him do it his self, she had to watch. This was conditioning, it would make him more compliant and understanding.
He tried again. Lowering his arms to his side. Slowly, sighing in relief and groaning in pain all at once.
Then he bent his elbow at an even slower pace, and attempted to prop himself up, only at the third try. Neela felt like she was watching a sloth. Thought to herself that a sloth would actually move faster than this. She tried to be understanding. So she held back a smile full of laughter. And glanced at a wall for a long while. At least until he was done.
He asked to her surprise, "My knees. They hurt. I need to bend them. And stretch my legs please..."
She complied only because she wasn't sadistic. Or at least that sadistic. So she allowed the chains to loosen at his ankles and slide out the cuffs. And with that same slow pace he bent his knees and sat there for long time hugging them close to his chest. Neela feels bad for a second watching him. Something turned in her stomach that made her want to throw up.
She was afraid she would have to do something worse than this. That if he didn't listen she would have to show him severe pain, and then... she wouldn't get to see this relief in his body, or in his facial expression.
"Eat." She demanded softly after he sat there too long.
He lifted his head, glanced to the bowl next to him.
"It's just microwaved noodles. I'm not much of a cook so nothing special."
He slid back on the bed so that his backside was against the head board and lifted the bowl close to his face. He ate slowly. Paused then looked to Neela once more finally.
"Do you have water?"
"Yeah. I'll bring you a bottle when you're done."
He raised a brow, then looked in to his bowl, like there was an answer there for a question he hasn't asked yet.
"How did you know... about my patterns?" He asked
"Patterns?" Neela cocked her head.
"How did you know I never left my apartment. Or about the bars? What else do you know about me?"
She smiled, "I know everything Dean. I watched you for a very long time."
He narrowed his eyes shook his head. Something didn't make sense, it didn't fit, Dean wanted to know why him... why did she pick him... she looks at him some times, like now. Her brown eyes deep and memorable. Like it's personal, like she cares. Really and truly cares.
"Do I... Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked finally," He closed his eyes suddenly, tightly squeezing them, "From somewhere before... the bar."
Neela stopped smiling, and watched him. And he looked at her again. His shoulders were hunched over as though he thought himself to be smaller than he actually was.
"Do you?" Neela asked.
He licked his lips, placed the bowl down, "I'm done."
"Nah you have to eat everything."
"I'll finish it later."
"It'll be cold later."
"So just put it back in the microwave."
Neela stood up. Grabbed the bowl, and threw the leftovers out in the kitchen. She'll just give him less food next time.
She grabbed a small water bottle then grabbed normal cuffs before heading back into the room.
"Your water." She threw it at him and he caught it to her surprise.
"Drink it and then I'm putting these on you. You get 15 minutes outside. If you run? I'll have to hurt you again." She sat down beside him. "So please don't run because I don't enjoy hurting you."
Dean almost laughed. He was bigger than her, probably even stronger than her... even in this weak state. If he ran she wouldn't be able to catch him. But she didn't seem to mind that possibility. His desire to laugh died abruptly at the thought, and suddenly he became consumed with concern. Why didn't she seem bothered at all...
No one would trust him in her position...
But perhaps she trusted herself more.
Neela noticed the strange and fearful curiosity in Dean's expression and smiled. She really did hope that he wouldn't run but in that same instance, she didn't mind surprising him at all either if she had too...
She reached over, letting her fingers brush the olive skin at the back of his hand. His skin felt surprisingly warm to her. She liked touching him, she wanted to glance up and see his reaction but feared it would be full of revulsion. She released his wrist from the cuffs. The flesh around it was red and the skin had opened up, bleeding in certain areas. She desired to touch those burning wounds. Stroke them. Dig her finger into them and make them her own. Consume those pains and consume him.
She stilled herself instead. And looked up at the man before her.
Now his hands were free. This was risky for her to do with him. But she wanted to see it. She had to know what he would do now knowing his hands were free. Would he fight? Wrap those big hands around her little neck and squeeze the life out of her? Screaming, eyes wide with a wildness he did not know he yet possessed.
Her lips threatened to curl into a ridiculously wide and sinister smile. Would he try to kill her... knowing nothing, remembering nothing of their love. A savior turned into a destroyer...
So she held his gaze so long. So long and so long more... she waited and he waited. He wondered if this was a test, his stomach spinning, the soup in his gut threatening to spill back out. She was frightening. She was crazy he could see it in her eyes. What was she doing? Did she want him to do it... did she want him to try and fight?
Could he kill her...? Wrap those...
Big hands...
Around her tiny throat...
And squeeze until...
He lifted his wrist suddenly, "Will you hurry up please? ...So we can go?"
Neela raises her brows, and this time she openly barked out a laugh in his face and carried a small smirk she didn't care to suppress. She didn't answer him but she continued to smile as she bound his wrist with traditional handcuffs. And Dean spun inside himself as he wondered whether he was being stupid or smart.
Then she released the ones at his ankle. And remembered she had shoes for him in the closet. He would need them to go outside.
But it was March now. Early evidently, but warm too. Shoes weren't necessary... besides it would be good for him to feel the earth bare beneath his feet.
She stands up. "Come on." She says. He follows her out of the room and into the view of the kitchen, and the living room... which looked like freedom in and of itself, and he wasn't even outside yet.
She was right though, for a man who did hate the outdoors... he doesn't think he's ever appreciated it more. His joints were sore and aching in pain begging to be able to move and stretch. Yet he was conflicted in knowing there could be aches from moving as well. He still needed to get out of there though, he needed walk outside and smell the air. Air that didn't smell like fresh paint or of bloody sheets.
He stepped out and the wood on the porch chilled his feet. He looked down stared at the dark wood, in awe almost. He took another step and Neela to his surprise sat on the steps.
"Go on." She looked down at herself for e moment, and then up at Dean, "Walk around. Run. Have fun. Smell the fresh air. But don't go too far." Neela grins, "Gotta stay in my line of view."
Dean glanced at her uncomfortably. Walked a few steps down the stairs and felt cold earth underneath his feet.
It was a cabin... in the woods. Seemingly secluded, conveniently empty, and random for a location... for Neela anyways.
"Where are we?" Dean asked her.
"Basically in the middle of nowhere..." she rests her chin in her palm and looks up at the sky lazily, "May as well be Mars."
Dean swallows... he wondered if she were lying. But she said it so casually... but... you can never trust a psychopath. Or sociopath... What category does she fall under? He stepped forward some more timidly.
The next person wouldn't be around for miles and miles if they were really in the middle of nowhere. He may die in those woods before someone finds him. There must be a car not too far away though, she has to leave and come back somehow... Dean sighed. He could knock her down easily. Knock her out even more easily, grab the key she stuffed in her pocket and make a run for it. Maybe even call the cops if she carried a phone.
These were... funny ideas. Funny ideas that weren't actually funny. More so idiotic and risk-taking.
He glances behind himself to Neela who still looked up at the sky.
Shook his head. And walked away from her. Walked and walked back and forth pondering his options and the consequences for each one. It was ridiculous that he was this afraid of that woman. She was mostly half his size. And a woman. A pathetic woman who kidnaps men out of boredom or... loneliness. Who knew exactly? She was delusional.
Dean paused and stared up at the sky, the blue was clouded by soft Greys. Gentle, cooling, as if it'd just rained or will rain. He didn't know what time it was... Evening, or late afternoon maybe. The sun was high, slightly hidden. And it was warm today but chilled. The leaves were rustling against each other. Creating gentle shaa shaa sounds. The wind whistled intricately, tickling his skin. Soothing it even. The brown earth underneath his feet sturdy, supporting and too real for his toes to consume properly. The outside was freedom. A calming freedom. Wild for the spirit, guiding and sure for the body.
So he stood there and stopped walking and decided instantly. He would never take it for granted ever again. He would visit the woods often now, every week after workouts. Perhaps even replace hikes for the workouts altogether.
And so he would never step foot into that prisonous cabin again.
Two weeks its been, so what was it now? Maybe around March 17th?
Two weeks of his life, stolen, chained to a bed that ached his joints and muscles and has scarred his soul.
Two weeks held captive by a lonely psycho...
He looked to Neela.
"I'm ready to head back in now," he says to her.
Neela surprised looks at him again finally, "It hasn't even been five minutes yet you know."
"It hasn't." He concludes matter a factly.
Neela stands and dusts the dirt off her behind, which Dean unadmittedly found really flattering.
He stared at it now as she headed back towards the front door.
She was a pretty woman after all with an attractive body. Curves that dipped in stretched in all the right places. Not normally his type, but mainstream sexy would always be sexy whether it was his type or not. Plus... she possessed an allure; it was quiet, wild, ...intense. Properly lost and chaotic. He thought she would be sophisticated yet fun for the night. So he spoke to her, underestimating how chaotic she truly was.
As she turned to him. He lifted the log stick he'd picked up of the ground when she turned her back. Hovering it over her head he hesitates; long enough to see her turn around, eyes stretched wide dramatically in shock and ...irritation?
He slammed it over her head and she stumbled back but didn't fall. So he tried again but her reflexes were fast. She dodged it easily.
Dean just as quickly swept her foot from under her using his leg; losing his balance in the midst of it. Neela grabbed him as they fell over. Surprisingly agile and with skill she ends up on top of him. Anger creasing her normally tenderly seductive and soft face. Anger was a scratch... She was probably furious.
Dean with his hand still cuffed had little options... all because she had her hands wrapped around his throat tightly like she was trying to kill him. Which made no sense because Dean suspected she had some crazy obsessive love towards him actually.
He attempted scratching at her hands. But she just persisted. So he jolted his hip upwards with extreme strength. Causing her to lose the tightly gripped mount over his waist. Her thighs were like iron so he was surprised he managed to loosen the grip of them around him. She had lurched forwards and loosened her hand just enough to give space to reach under her arm and grab the log on the ground.
With one swift movement, he whipped the log through the air and it made a louder thud this time when it connected to her head the second time, she toppled over in pain.
Dean takes advantage of the moment to get on top of her. With his wrist still cuffed, he reaches out wraps his hands around her throat just as he imagined he would do moments ago. As he imagined he'd do for days, many days, in and out. Her eyes stretched big, frighteningly so big he almost stopped. Her neck was so tiny in his hand, and so she couldn't let out a single sound, her brown face quickly turned red in moments. Her nails dug into his bruised skin, scratching away until it revealed the flesh underneath and beads of blood peaked through, she grabbed his face, his arms, anything she could, but slowly she became limp. Her panicked big eyes turned teary, desperate... sad.
They softened.
Lowered.
Saddened even more.
And his hand shook, his stomach trembled.
Something in him stirred...
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, all whilst his hands loosened involuntarily.
The thing stirring in him was frightening, recognizable, and uncontrollable.
He had to stop before...
Dean lifted himself off of her.
She screamed and coughed. Grabbed her head with one hand in pure anguish. The other, she reached towards her neck. She attemped to sit up but her arms gave in and she fell over groaning, as if woozy.
She spoke slurred words, slow, soft, yet somehow still almost hateful. Dean didn't bother to stay and hear what she had to say though. His concern lied within the back pockets of her black jeans.
He slipped his hand into them until he found the key then dashed into the woods as he uncuffed his wrists.
He ran as he was shirtless, barefooted, and wounded on his lower stomach.
But free.
It took some time for Neela to get back up.
The wound from her head was bleeding, dripping on the ground as she groggily made her way towards the the living room. She needed her rifle, and her tracker.
It may have taken her time to get back up but time she had. Plenty of it. She plugged in the code into her safety vault. It was a deep vault hidden underneath the painting near the television; she grabbed her needed items and made her way into the woods.
As she walked farther into the woods she grumbled angrily. She was furious she let herself trust him. After all she knew better, or at least was supposed to have known better. Three months and no less than two before obedience, Boss taught. He taught her... she should've known, but love is blinding, so blinding, it makes you kind, it makes you weak. Unnervingly weak. So she did as she wanted instead of as she learned.
She wasn't sure whether she would have to punish him or punish herself. Perhaps both of them...
Either way, she would have to figure that out later. According to the tracker he wasn't very far. She was smart at least in one thing. She opted she'd put it later but the earlier the better. Not that if he ran away he'd have anywhere to go. They were so truly in the middle of no where. And although unlikely, it would still be unsafe if anyone else was out there in the woods as well. She knew those woods better than he did. She'd scanned the area several times with Elijah while they rebuilt the old cabin. But a tracker certainly made things easier.
He was a nearly a mile away. Running diagonally towards the right. Neela sighed and paused in her tracks a moment. She propped the rifle over her shoulders and ran determinedly into the woods.
She decided she would care for her wounded head later.
As she tracked Dean down, she stayed relatively far away from him once she caught up to him.
She hoists the sniper rifle over her shoulder a Steyr SSG 69, and braces her body for the blow back. She locates him and waits until he pauses by a tree. He was hovering, hugging his hand over his wounded stomach.
Neela nearly rolled her eyes, there was no way that could still hurt, its already been two weeks. She holds her breath, angles the red dot over his thigh, careful so it wouldn't hit bone at the very least—it would take too long of a healing period— and then pulls the trigger.
It was a smooth and easy fire. His scream of pain was nearly instant, extremely loud and far too disrupting for woods such as these.
She walked to him finally, at first far enough to not be seen, or for her not to see him with out the rifle, but as she approached much closer she witnessed as he fell to the ground,and leaned against the thick large bark of a tree. She held her breath a moment as she stared down at him. Blood painted his hand. Alive and vivid, drenching the smell of the air around her with iron, soaked the green of grass, and the browns, reds, and yellow of old fallen leaves. She bent down on the ground before him, and he looks at her. Teary eyed, a precious intimate expression. Has he ever shared such vividness with anyone else?Neela wondered.
No... he wouldn't.
Only her. Only she knows him this way.
"You ran away from me..." she whispered
His brows pull forward and he groaned, breathed deeply and moaned in lively pain.
"You shot me?!" He screamed.
"Don't worry. I didn't hit bone."
"Don't— I'm sorry?! DON'T WORRY!?! You fucking shot me!"
"Stop yelling." She said swiftly but quietly. She was calm but he could tell... she was angry. Her brow which was dripping with blood was twitching. Her eyes fumed quietly. And she gazed wildly about everywhere but at his face, as though she couldn't even meet his eyes.
And she couldn't. She was afraid of what she might do if she did...
She sighed. Shut her eyes. She felt tired in that instant.
This... was tiring, she thought to herself.
She gripped the rifle suddenly and Dean's gaze fell to the dangerous machine quickly.
"Are you going to kill me?" He asked.
Neela lifted her lids, her eyes were shiny, like she was holding back tears. Was she sad? He wondered.
"Here?" She questioned back, "In the woods, just like that?"
He only stares at her.
"Is that what you want?" She voiced curiously, "To die here in these woods."
He was surprised by her question, just as surprised as she was by his own. She confused him, wouldn't she just kill him? Shouldn't she? His eyes widened as he gazed at her in distress. Then they lowered... he felt compelled to a feeling deep inside him... shouldn't she? He thought yet again. "...Maybe actually..." he sighed and lent his head back against the tree, "You'll just take me back to that prison hole you call a fucking room. You'll probably kill me one day anyways."
"Why do you think that?"
"How did you find me?"
"Tell me why you think that."
"Because, I'll keep fighting. And you're psycho."
"I care about you. I don't want to kill you."
"... No one will look for me you know?" He uttered out. An honest truth, too honest, he regretted saying it almost immediately. But part of him suspected it was no secret to her either.
"I know." She said and confirmed.
Dean gazed at her only slightly surprised, narrows his eyes as they start to become heavy. The pain was slowly turning into nothingness. He was losing a lot of blood now probably.
"No one cares for you." She takes his hand. They are limp. Slippery. And full of thick warm blood. She hold them carefully in her own, "Only I do."
He smirks. Eyes nearly closing now, his mind was fading so slowly, as though it were on a cloud...
"Just kill me..." he mutters smiling small even, "It would be nice... nice to die here, like this. The woods... aren't so bad."
Neela sits with him as well. He was beautiful, his soul was light and soft, he was afraid... and lonely and lost. Maybe him running away wasn't his fault? She realized.
Life has been so unkind to him. All he's ever known was running away. Surviving.
"No they aren't." She agrees, "The woods are lovely, dark and deep."
"... Heh..." He whispers, "But I have promises to keep..." he knew this one... this secret poem of eternal sleep. The yearning for it. The yearning for the infinite and unknown peace, and the struggle for living responsibilities. The heavy gravity of life resting on shoulders, and the woods, the woods of a seductive reaper. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, "...and miles to go before I sleep." Dean continues to whispers.
And Neela knew the secret too. The secret of the woods; so she whispered back to him, "And miles to go... before I sleep."
Word Count: 3998
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