A/N: Sorry for it being in the beginning, but just a disclaimer this chapter may contain violence so if you get uncomfortable skip through that part. It's Fleur's nightmare so skip the italic font part. For anyone who reads, I have never written something like that before. Also, I'm no expert in medical stuff.
Gonna switch between fillip and Fleur's pov a bit in this chapter too.
Fleur's POV:
It's always dark in here. Nothing changed, yeah! Still, the same me gets into trouble. Then I am thrown into a cell. Yet, this time, I feel something because of it. I can't put my hand on it. I used to love it when I pissed Alberto off—not when he would throw me in a cell, but when I'd see him angry. A small price to pay for taking my life away from me.
Now, I don't know. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret trying to run away. Not at all. I couldn't have lived with myself regretting not even giving it a try. I got so angry with Alberto when he put me in a cell, but now it's not anger at Fillip. Something else, something I really can't put my hand on, which is even more annoying.
I keep dozing off every once in a while, then I wake up from a nightmare, thanks to the darkness and the smell of blood that seems to be chasing me everywhere I go. I also have no idea how long I have been in here—maybe two days or more. I do know they bring me water every, like, 6 hours or so, just to keep me surviving as Fillip ordered. Just to keep the torture going, he meant.
I'd also heard Nina shouting a few times outside, trying to get in, but the guards wouldn't let her. Honestly, it brought a smile to my face. No one has been here for me since...ever. It made me feel like this world still has some good in it, even this shitty one I'm stuck in.
It was time for water, yay! I should go beg for Fillip's forgiveness now that he's giving me the smallest life necessities. He wishes. "What time is it?" I try, with a hoarse throat, for maybe the 10th time, to talk with the guard that brings me the water, but he never answers me. I took my time, savouring the water as it went down my scratchy throat. I threw the plastic cup at the door as hard as I could just to spite the man standing out there, but even with that, I couldn't do well with no food, water, or proper sleep. Then I try to go back to sleep again, hoping I will actually succeed. I don't, though, because how can I? I am reminded of Alberto with every breath I take. The scars on my back keep pounding heavily, and I try to shift a couple of times to make my back more comfortable. It never became comfortable enough though. There's no peace for people like me. And to think I had hoped... How stupid.
Instead, I feel huge, gentle, warm arms wrapping around my body. I think maybe that's it; maybe they will finally do something to put me out of my misery, but I don't stay awake long enough to know that.
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Fillip's POV:
My mind is a wreck, and so is the punching bag that I haven't stopped punching since this morning. I can't stop thinking about her, and it's not helping. Having her picture engraved in the core of my subconscious. Scarlet bandages wrapped around her arms. That's when I start to see red, the same colour as the bandages, and the more I do, the harder my hits get, the faster they come, and the shallower my breath becomes.
I don't even notice when Christian and Leo enter the gym; one of their hands on my shoulder snaps me out of my rage-filled daze. I turn around, almost getting Christian in the face.
"Woah, woah, man. Calm down," he says, holding my hand in midair.
"What do you want?" I ask between quick breaths.
"We have new information about Stephan's last operation," he answered.
"How did it go?" I'm not asking because I give a shit about his business; for all I care, I'm waiting for Christan to tell me it failed.
"Police came and arrested his men. They set the women he had on the docks, ready to be shipped, free." Good, even great. The men we have on the inside were truthful then; they are not to be trusted yet, but this will do for now. It was us; we informed on them. Nothing will satisfy me like seeing this man's empire crumble slowly before his eyes. We have to make sure, though, whether the men we have planted in his business are actually on our side or not. I will do everything to ruin this man's business. Other than the fact that I need to get rid of him if I want to take control of America; he's a spoiled man, and I can't stand him.
"Something else?" I asked, needing to be alone again. Christian raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head, leaving. Leo doesn't. Here he stands in his place, his heavy expression from three days ago in the car returning. Now that's why Christian is my second in command and Leo is not. Apart from knowing him since childhood, he knows when to leave me alone, not challenging me; however, Leo is as stubborn as I am. It's getting on my nerves.
"So you will just continue torturing this punching bag instead of actually getting her out of that basement," he remarks.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I do, and he isn't stupid; he knows I'm dismissing him as I turn back to the punching bag. He isn't going to listen to me, though.
"You do know Fillip, and it's clearly showing. You're thinking of her. I'm surprised you haven't stopped punching this thing an hour ago."
"You know what. If I'm being honest, Your face is looking pretty punchable right now. Maybe I should stop hitting this thing and take a swing at you instead." I turn back around, looking at him.
"Do it," he challenges.
I stare at him. He's quite serious. Hazel eyes go murky brown, carrying a challenge. "Come on, do it," he urges again. Two seconds is all it took for me to actually do it. My fist makes contact with his face, and he immediately takes two steps backward, holding the side of his face.
He rolls his neck, taking off his suit jacket. He throws it on the floor. Leo is shorter than me, but his strength can knock men to the ground. Unfortunately for him, I'm not a man. I'm his boss. I have no idea why he's doing that. Picking up this fight—what's his reason? Not for Fleur, not to that extent.
Catching me off guard, he swings a punch at my face, making me glare at him.
"You asked for it." That's the last thing I said before we went at it. I don't know how long this has gone on. I just knew I needed that. Needed to hear my hand hitting bones—someone, anyone. See blood coming out of their broken skin. That doesn't mean that Leo didn't have his fair share of hits that made me bleed, but maybe I needed that too. To feel the pain I'm putting her through right now.
Did it make me feel better?
No, it didn't, but I deserved it.
Leo's shirt is now on the floor too; he lost it halfway through whatever we were doing. I already didn't have mine on.
"Was that enough sense knocked into you?" Leo asked when I stopped punching him while breathing hard, hands on my knees.
"Yeah," I tell him, exhausted.
"Will you bring her out of that basement?"
"I don't know."
He strides at me with purpose, despite his face and hands being far more bloodied than mine. I straighten, ready to take his punches, and we go on for another ten minutes. "Was that enough?" Leo asks again, and despite him getting hit more, I'm still more tired. I've been here since 8 in the morning. It's around 2 p.m. now, and I can't keep doing this.
"I'll think about it," I tell him.
"Sure, Fillip, you will." He replied as we went and sat down, panting for air. We drank a bottle of water each. After a while, he gets up, picking up his royal blue shirt and suit jacket along the way, saying he has work to do. As if I didn't know that. I get up too; there's no reason to stay here longer anyway.
I make my way to my room, getting out a new suit to wear from the wardrobe after I shower. As much as I had hoped this shower would be peaceful, it wasn't. Hot water on my skin eased the pain in my muscles from being in the gym since 8 in the morning, but it didn't ease the tension that resided there. Didn't ease the weight I feel on my shoulders every time I picture her down in that basement. In the same rooms where people had been tortured and died.
She is nothing like them, though. Not even close. She should not be there.
After finishing my shower and getting dressed, I go down to the basement. I can't keep her down there anymore; the thought alone is making me sick. Going down the stairs, I take them two at a time. As if getting there quicker was going to make this situation any better. I find Andrea standing at his post in front of her door, as he was told.
"Open that door," I order him, and he does immediately.
Not wanting to notice how bad Fleur might look, I rush towards her frail, thin body and start to pick her up slowly, making sure not to hurt her. She barely noticed me, though; being unconscious helped that. I don't know what she might have done if she had been awake. That was my excuse, though, because I knew she would have flipped at me. Her body was quivering between my arms, so I pulled her closer to my body. "You are okay now," I told her sleeping figure. Hurriedly, I take Fleur up to her room, ignoring the looks I get from the maids and some of the guards. Gently, I lay her down on the bed, then call Sebastian.
"Man, it took you long enough," he says, getting into the room.
"Just do your job, yeah? Make sure she's okay." I warned him.
Sebastian doesn't reply, getting to work immediately. He starts by cutting the bandage on her left arm, cleaning the gash there as I stood there watching.
"Turn her around,"
I roll my eyes at him, knowing what he's trying to do. Really, he could do that himself, but he acts all busy with something in his fancy doctor's bag. Well, who got him that? I could easily take it away. Instead, I do as told and turn her around cautiously so she won't wake up. Now she's lying on her stomach, and Sebastian starts cutting the bandage on her lower left leg, where the bullet wound is.
Thank God it didn't look infected; it still looked really bad. Nonetheless, Sebastian is great at his job, and I didn't stay to see him take the bullet out of her leg. I've seen hundreds of men bleed out, die, or get shot, but I didn't stay to see her leg getting treated. I don't stay to see her in pain because of my orders, even if she were unconscious.
I'm waiting for Sebastian outside her door when he finally gets out. "Well, the good news is her leg didn't need stitches, and it wasn't infected. The bullet wasn't in deep, guess it's all thanks to you, imprisoning her in that basement and not letting her walk," I glared at him. "I've prescribed some antibiotics, and don't let the wound get wet, yeah."
"You can tell her all that yourself."
"Well, you see, Fillip, that's part of the bad news, at least for you," he replied, and I stared at him sceptically.
"I won't be the one to face her wrath when she wakes up. Good luck, buddy," he says, patting my shoulder.
"Get the hell out of my face, Sebastian," I growl at him, making him walk away faster. I opened her door one last time, taking a look at her as she lay asleep. Fleur was covered with the comforter, and her breaths were a bit fast. Her face was still unclean, full of dirt from the basement or maybe from running in the woods. Her body looked even thinner than it already was when she arrived, and I despise the fact that I didn't allow her to eat even more. Sighing, I close the door and go to my office.
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Fleur's POV:
"I don't want to go," I yell while being dragged by Alberto through his house corridors. He was taking me to his distibuting car. I refused to cry, but I have to beg.
"I give zero fucks what you want, sweetheart." He answers me coldly, just like he always used to, continuing to pull me after him.
"Stop, please, Alberto. I don't want to go." I tried again. He comes to a sudden halt.
"Fleur. I can't stand you anymore. You come back to me this time. The life that you think is hell will become even worse, and I can't promise I won't kill you. So get your act together, stop with your bullshit, and act like a normal adult!" he screamed in my face.
"Normal adults aren't sold and gifted to your disgusting old business partners," I scream back, a few tears falling down my face.
"Thanks to you, they won't be partners anymore," he says before throwing me in the back of the car with the other women. I hear them chewing their gums loudly while sniggering at me. Gave me arrogant looks, as if this was okay. As if they were okay. They weren't; they sold their bodies for money and were judging me for not wanting to. I hated their hateful, piercing eyes. Despised the same pleasure, just like Alberto, that they seemed to have plastered on their faces just from watching me suffer.
When we arrive and the car stops, the doors of the truck open, and I'm being dragged again. Only this time to a place worse than Alberto's basement. I fight with him again as he drags me towards the mansion of his partner. All he does is stand still, look around, and then motion for one of the guards to come and take me. He looks terrifying. Huge, wide shoulders and muscles stretch his suit jacket, making it look like they are about to get ripped.
The guard snatched me and started dragging me through the house. He's too strong to fight. Before going down the stairs to what I can only think is the new hell of this month, I have a weird feeling in my head. Stumbling, I try to keep standing. I stopped fighting the man for a second and instead fell forward. My vision blurs as I take a look around, and then black stars start to appear in front of me. Gradually growing larger in my field of vision, making the darkness the only thing I see. He hit me on the head. Knocked me out...
Grunting. I hear grunting. I feel paralysed on a hard, scratchy surface. Dirt. I'm on the floor; I can't move. Shudders are sent down my body in violent waves. None stop waves. I freeze. I can't move because something is on me, not because I was hit.
The grunting continues...
Panic hits in waves even stronger than my shudders. No, no, no, not again. Not again. I didn't even have a chance to stop it.
The grunting continues...
My eyes open, and it's dark in here. It has always been dark. The world is a blur, but I can see the man on top of me now—the same one that knocked me out—the guard I realise when I see more clearly. My vision doesn't become clear for long, though, because of the tears that start cascading down my cheeks the moment I see the smirk on this man's face as he pounds into me mercilessly.
And the grunting continues.
"Please...p-please stop," I mumble while feeling my insides get torn apart, but he doesn't stop. They never do. His grunts get louder, he slams into me harder, and his yells fill the room. Fills my ear. Fills my heart with so much pain that I hear it shatter, for the hundredth time, louder than anything else in that room. Louder than my sobs, louder than this man's pleasure-addle grunts, louder than the click of the door when someone entered.
A figure stands behind the man that just got off me, a satisfied smile taking over his face while hitting his hands together as he just got a job done. I try to turn around, and my body is filled with pain. My head was throbbing from getting knocked out earlier. Sobbing still, I crawl back towards the nearest wall I reach; maybe that will eat me alive.
"How was she?" The man who entered the room asks.
"Oh great, did you hear her cries?" The man who was fucking me answers, still smiling at me. Satisfaction was written all over his face. It makes me cry harder, his words piercing into me like arrows to my already wounded heart. Getting forced was never the worst part; it was the disgust you felt afterwards. I feel disgusted at myself even though it wasn't my fault, but how do I explain that to my heart? One that has gone through that for years. One that can never be mended again.
"Well, I didn't; how about we hear it now?" The other man answers, and my stomach turns vigorously. I beg them not to; however, gigantic, harsh, rough hands catch my ankles, squeezing them. They pulled my body forward again. Making my head hit the ground, putting me in the original place I woke up in.
That's when I scream, pleading with them, but all I feel is a pair of hands holding mine above my head. And then Another pair of hands on my chest ripping my already ragged dress even more than it already was. Then I'm held down as my knees shove my thighs apart, making pain shoot up through my core.
"PLEASE." I screamed as the man started getting ready to go again...
Then I jolted awake.
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Fillip's pov:
I'm in my room, getting ready to go to bed. I settled my gun down on the nightstand after taking off my jacket. I have never slept a night without it beside me since Marie died. Walking to my wardrobe, I pick up a pair of black sweatpants, wanting to get out of this uncomfortable suit and to bed. It's been a long day, and my muscles still hurt a bit from my fight with Leo. Finally, I change my pants, throw on a t-shirt, toss my suit in the laundry basket along with my shirt, and sit on the bed, ready for sleep.
As far as I'm told, Fleur hasn't woken up yet; I'm guessing she's going to sleep until morning. Well, until I hear her ear-piercing shriek, it's her, unmistakably her. She's the only woman in this corridor anyway. Instantly, I snatched my gun off the table and ran to her room. With every step I take closer to her door, her screams get louder. Knocking on the door impatiently, I call for her. "Fleur...Fleur," but she does not answer me. I don't try one more time; I immediately open the door, holding out my gun, while looking for the next person to shoot. Only to be met by no one except Fleur herself. On her bed, in her very restless sleep, struggling for breath, screaming. I sprint towards her bed, put down my gun on the nightstand, and then crouch next to her.
I don't know what to do.
I try to wake her up, but she doesn't. Instead, I wrap my arms around her chest, trying to hold her down, but she starts kicking her legs, almost getting me in the face once, continuing to scream as if her life depended on it. "Fleur, wake up, Fleur," I attempt, but her screams only get louder, and her struggle continues. I'm somehow now on the bed, having her on my lap while my arms still hold down her fragile body. "Wake up, Fleur, I said this time harder, and she jolted awake in my arms.
She doesn't stop fighting, though, so I place one of my legs on her trembling ones. Keeping her bound in place because she thinks she's still in there. "Let go of me. Please, " she yells, pushing at my hands hard. It was killing me how hard she was begging. I have never seen her in such a state before.
"Calm down, fleur." I urge her, but she's still protesting. Yelling through her whimpers for me to let her go. "It's ok, Fleur, it's ok. Look around you; you aren't back there anymore," I say, and she finally listens, looking around. Slowly, her body starts going limp as she blinks into reality. "It's ok, you're safe here," I tell her once more, and her thin hands hold on to my arms that are wrapped around her body for dear life. Her limp body starts shaking again, this time not out of fear but out of sadness. Sadness that makes her sob so loudly that I feel my heart breaking for her.
I look up to see Christian and Leo just making it to the door, having the same startled expression I had, while they held their guns up just like I did. They study Fleur for a second, then look at me. I wave them away, so they leave, closing the door behind them.
"It's ok," I keep telling her as she continues to cry until there is no energy left in her to cry. Until all her tears dried on her face and on my hands. However, She doesn't let go of my hand, keeping a hold of it as her nails dig deep into my skin. As if I'm her grip on what's real and what's not, as if she'll crumple down that deep hole again if she lets me go.
"Go to sleep, Fleur," I tell her, trying to get her to let go so she could rest.
"No." That's all she said.
"It's ok-"
"No. Stop saying that. Nothing is ok," her voice cracks a bit, and I can feel her tense up, trying to hold back tears. "Nothing is. Nothing ever was, so stop saying it is. And I'm not going to sleep," she continues.
"Alright, it's not okay, Fleur; you still need to rest." I try to unwrap my arms, but she keeps holding on.
"Don't leave then."
"What?" She caught me off guard.
"You heard me. Don't leave me alone," she says, her voice cracking even more, and a couple of tears stream down her face and land on my arms.
"Alright...I won't leave," I say softly, rubbing her head. "Go to sleep, Fleur; no one will hurt you here. You have my word."
"Ok" is all she says in a hoarse voice as she lets go of my hand, turns around, and wraps her arms around my body while crying silently. I continue to run my hand through her hair until her shaking stops, and all that's left is her peaceful breathing rhythm.
I wasn't planning on sleeping, but her breathing calmed me down and made me want to rest. I don't sleep much either in my room; everything about the day Marie died comes flooding back. Maybe if I slept here with Fleur beside me, I would forget and feel a bit at peace. I'll take that even if it's just for a while; I think that's what Fleur is doing as well. And I wasn't wrong; I've never slept this peacefully in six years.