*Content Warning* violence, blood, sexual harassment
Rosalyn felt the air expel from her body, her vision growing blurry. As she was about to lose consciousness, she heard the deep, soothing voice she had heard when she was with Mark, telling her to stay awake. To not lose consciousness.
She fought to stay awake, to keep her eyes open. In front of her, she could see the young boy watching her. His eyes wide open, his jaw clenched.
She truly messed up.
Watching the young boy doing his best not to make a sound, even when he was obviously terrified, she made up her mind. If worst came to worst, she would make sure he wasn't implicated.
"Now, now," the cheery voice belonging to the guard called John broke her out of her thoughts. "This doesn't need to be something bad…" his voice trailed off.
"We could all just settle this without anyone getting harmed if you all just tell us who tried to open the door."
Rosalyn had no faith in this man. Even if she hadn't been able to see what he looked like, his cheery voice was to out of place. All her senses told her, that out of the two, he was the one to be scared off.
Even just hearing his gleeful voice sent shivers down her spine. How could someone be this merry, talking to people they had captured? Kidnapped?
It was weird.
Rosalyn kept quiet, working hard to ignore the pain running through her body.
"Well, come on now, who was it?" he laughed, the silence stretching out as none of them answered him.
Well, the mumbling guy kept mumbling, seemingly in a world of his own. He hadn't even stopped when the loud sound of shattering glass sounded out earlier. He just kept repeating his syllables.
Rosalyn tried to move, to see how he was doing. But as she was turning her body, to look in his direction, she saw the surprisingly normal-looking Matt hover over her. The anger she saw in his eyes made her freeze in place, lowering her eyes to the ground.
She wasn't certain if she would be able to keep conscious if he kicked her again…
"Well, this is boring, why are none of you answering me?" John asked in a whiny tone.
"You know, it's no fun if you all keep quiet. Then I will need Matt to beat you up, one at a time, until one of you spill. And for you, miss, I don't think you want to end up like that muttering guy over there, do you?"
His voice had now taken on a sadistic glee. Rosalyn braved herself and turned around to look at John.
He looked like a teen, his hair short and blond, wearing baggy jeans and an oversized college jacket. But what really stood out to Rosalyn was the scar going across his face. It seemed to have healed badly, as she could see the raised, jagged edges along it. The scar along with his smile, gave his face an eery, grotesque look.
Rosalyn didn't know why, but seeing his scar gave her a feeling of familiarity. As if such scars were something she had seen many times before. As if she used to see men with scars all the time.
But when would she have had the opportunity to see something like this? Her whole life, she had been carefully raised by her adoptive parents, who she met and what she saw decided by them.
Even if they didn't love her as much as they did her younger sister, they had, after all, raised her to be married off some day. To use her as a device to further their ambitions.
It was only when she came out of her coma that she decided not to be treated like this anymore, and distance herself from her controlling family. To try and carve out a future for herself.
She looked at John gleefully smiling. She looked at his scar, trying to find the strand that would help her remember. Remember why the scar looked familiar. Remember why her being kidnapped felt familiar. Why she felt as if her memories were incomplete.
Then she saw it, his eyes. Even when his mouth was smiling, his voice cheerful, his eyes were dark.
They were full of contempt as he locked eyes with her. Rosalyn felt all the hairs on her body stand up as a cold shiver ran through her. She had been right to fear him.
"Now, now, pretty. Don't go giving me that look. It makes me all excited you see," he leered, his tongue licking his lips as he grabbed his balls.
"Well, you could continue, but I would have to have some fun with you later…"
Though his words sounded crass and offensive, Rosalyn felt nothing but malevolence when she looked into his eyes.
She steeled herself, not knowing what to expect from this man.
When she first heard them come in the door, she was sure Matt was the one in control… But since Matt had kept quiet as John talked, their dynamic might not be so clear cut.
John walked forward and squatted in front of her, pushing Matt to the side, grabbing her hair to hold her face up against his own. Then he licked the side of her face before sniffing her hair.
Rosalyn closed her eyes, trying to turn her head away from him. To get away.
But he held her in place, taking his time.
His lips by her ear, he slowly whispered, "so, was it you? Did you try to open the door, honey?"
Feeling the shivers down her back, Rosalyn kept quiet, not saying anything.
"Hmm… Was it you? Or maybe it was the child?" he laughed as he slowly moved his head back from hers.
Seeing him staring viciously at the child, Rosalyn's heart dropped. She couldn't let them harm the boy because of her. She couldn't!
Just as she was about to admit that it was indeed her who had tried to open the door, she heard a soft thud from the side.
Looking over, she saw Matt on the floor, a deep cut over his throat, blood pulsing out. The mumbling guy was running towards her, blood all over, a glass shard in his hand.
Shocked over the sudden turn of events, she tried to jump back, only to be held back by her hair, still tightly gripped by John.
John, seeing the weird behaviour of Rosalyn, looked over his shoulder, only to be met by the mumbling guy slicing towards his eyes with the glass shard.
The young man moved with such fluid movements that Rosalyn was at a loss for words. It was as she was watching a play or a dance, a carefully perfected craft.
Instead of being scared by the sheer violence performed in front of her very eyes, she felt a sense of awe. Admiration for the flexibility of his movements and the swiftness of his hands as he attacked their captor.
She had neither heard nor seen how he had attacked Matt, just seen him when he was already on the ground. And then, before she knew it, he was already gliding stealthily across the room, ready to take down John next.
It was as if the very air in the room was holding its breath, waiting for him to pounce forward and strike.
Rosalyn watched in wonder as the mumbling guy sliced across John's face, partly blinding him in the process.
John screamed out as he let her hair go and she once again fell towards the floor. She didn't even notice the new bruises caused by the impact, to entranced by the scene in front of her.
Had she ever seen something so picturesque before?
She knew it was a weird thought to have, feeling delight and tranquillity as violence was unfolding before her, but she couldn't help it.
There was something about the way the young man was fighting against their captor, John. About the way he easily evaded the punches John was throwing towards him. Like an adult play-fighting with a child.
He seemed so at ease, so relaxed, that the whole scene seemed surreal. Like it wasn't actually happening in front of her. As if she had been transported into a movie, where the unassuming hero was finally standing up against his oppressor.
She didn't know how to explain it, other than it being surreal and magnificent.
Even when she didn't know him, she felt proud. As if his achievements were her own.
But that was silly. All she had done was get caught trying to escape.
This young man, on the other hand, he had single-handedly fought their captors, and he was winning.
Finally remembering that there was a young child in the room, Rosalyn tore her gaze away from the fight and looked towards the boy.
He was hiding his face in his lap, shaking all over. She cursed to herself, before positioning herself in front of him, so that if he did look up, his view would be blocked.
Thinking to herself that it was lucky he hadn't been watching, she let out a small sigh in relief. She didn't know how much the young boy had seen, but any part he had seen would be too much. Children shouldn't be subjected to any display of violence. Never.
Hearing another soft thud, she looked behind her to see that John was now lying on the floor, unmoving.
The mumbling guy was standing over the still body, his right hand still holding the glass shard. Looking at his face, it was devoid of emotion as blood dripped down like tears.
Maybe he felt her gaze on him, but he looked over at her, still devoid of emotions.
Rosalyn didn't feel afraid, rather there was something comforting about the young man's gaze. It felt familiar, harmless.
Safe.
Locking gazes with the young man, she asked in a friendly tone, "could you cut me loose now?"
Seemingly waking up from his trance, the young man smiled, nodded, and went to cut her loose. His hands were careful and precise, making sure not to harm her as he cut the ropes tying her.
After he was done cutting her loose, he moved around her and cut loose the young boy.
The young boy, still terrified, screamed out when he saw the young man in front of him, dripping of blood.
As if something awakened in Rosalyn, she pushed past the young man, and held the child in her arms, gently soothing him.
"It's all right now. Everything is going to be okay," she murmured, trying to make her voice as gentle and persuasive as possible.
She didn't know she had it in her. The capacity to soothe and care so fiercely about a child. But here she was, cradling a young boy in her arm, rocking him back-and-forth as she tried to calm him down.
Overcome with a feeling of rightness as she held the young boy, she gently kissed the top of his head as his cries slowly turned into small whimpers, his hands tightly clenching her blouse.