Final Curtain

Mel's POV

I stuck close to the voices inside my head, in my memories. Something kept telling me not to go back, not to open my eyes—not to wake up. It was feeling in my gut; but I was already wavering between reality and my own little world. If I woke up... gave any indication I was awake... things would happen—bad things. I knew that.

The first thing I felt was the emptiness of my stomach—it was turning, convulsing on the lack of food. All my body—head to toe—felt weightless, beaten, sluggish. The coldness blanketing my skin caused trembles, itchiness. It was allied with a musty scent making everything downright uncomfortable.

That's the idea, some corner of my brain provided. Hard to believe a few days ago I'd been curled on my bed next to Nathaniel—oops. I had to learn not to flutter my eyes when I thought of him. It gave me away each time.

Every time I'd woken up the room had been drowned in darkness. Today... I wished that had been the case. If wishes were fishes we'd all throw nets, wouldn't we?

First off, I moved—more like squirmed—around, rubbing my shoulder on the wall trying to sit. I failed a few times, more than I would've liked, especially when there was a guy glaring from across the room. His eyes obscured by shadows.

Disorientation and instinct made me say, “...please...” in a voice I didn't recognize. It was incredibly rough and croaky. My throat was as dry as firewood. “What do y-you... want...?” the attempts I made at swallowing were in vain, there was no hint of saliva in my mouth.

I breathed deeply as the young man with light chestnut hair walked. His boots made the floorboards creak, I couldn't get away no matter how much I crawled into the wall—I couldn't go through it. My heart stuttered when he pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows.

A scar. On his wrist.

He noticed my dilated eyes, it didn't stop him from crouching.

“You're... you're... from The Or-der...” I knew not all of them were behind bars, there were a lot of them, the police and FBI were searching—but I never thought I'd see another one, least of all be kidnapped. Kidnapped... Jesus, this was getting old. Only this time, I was alone, as far as I knew. “...what d-do you wa-nt?”

He remained silent reaching for my sides, setting me on my feet against my will. My hands were lashing out meekly, the boy maneuvered me completely making me feel hopeless like when I'd met Nate.

How long had I gone without eating? Drinking...?

“Don't.” He warned in a voice that seemed too soft for a killer. After months of running and fighting for my life I knew I shouldn't judge a book by its cover—just because he didn't look that dangerous didn't mean he wasn't deadly. “Or I'll have to hurt you.” My eyes shot to his. They were gray clouds—stormy clouds. Pretty in a way.

“I don't... think... you have a-a problem...” I paused drawing air. “...hurting people.”

His quadrangular cheekbones, hard and sharp, wavered for a minute there. I'd spent enough time with Nate to know when something I said touched a nerve. Instinctively I backed up—as if I could, his hands were on my waist. I refused to close my eyes, I wasn't weak like that anymore. I could take whatever they threw at me—didn't mean I liked it.

Nothing—nothing but a tug forward. I blinked, forced to walk, to put a foot in front of the other. Just that was a massive challenge. He hadn't lashed out.

“If we wanted you dead you'd be dead.” He whispered opening the door. It made noises like the rest of the empty room—I'd been in isolation for how long? I was dying to know. “He wants something else.” He? Who was he? I thought this guy was working alone, but there were more Order members about? Crap-tastic.

“...who's he...?” my throat felt torn when I coughed. My handler held my arms securely, either keeping me from falling flat on my face or from striking him. No reply. “Who wan-ts me h-here?” again I was met with silence, the only background noise being the wood complaining under our feet as we walked down the vacant hallway.

The guy who couldn't be older than Aric half-led, half-carried me down a stairway—I ignored his warning and my weakness, lashing as much as possible. His hold became a crushing iron grip, my bones felt twig-like. Had he kept it up for much longer, I would've gotten a broken arm or a dislocated shoulder—maybe both.

After a descent into a basement—Nate would have hated it, tight, dark—I hesitated stepping forward when another man, this one older—middle thirties—came into view. Grin itching as his not-at-all friendly eyes swept us.

“Here she is.” My keeper leaned me on the degraded wall—sandwiching me in as his side came closer.

I drew in when the grinning guy stepped up. Was he—

“Finally,” his jagged tone made me flinch. “He ordered that she'd be brought down here an hour ago.”

The chestnut haired youngster shrugged, “You said to wait 'till she was awake. She woke up ten minutes ago, just following orders.” He put out rather bitterly.

The older man sneered pulling on my bruised arm—I bit down a yelp. My handler let go watching with his haze eyes. A calloused hand gripped my chin, tilting my head side-to-side eying me with vengeance in his eyes—and disbelieve. He ceased to seize my face releasing any hold on me and my legs betrayed me, giving out.

“I can't believe this brat took down Vincent—how did she even manage to outrun our guys?” I reached for the wall—putting my weight on it—as a tremendous force beat me on the side I moaned, falling down. “Look at that!” the man looked down upon me—my breathing itched. “She can't even get up.” Trust me buddy if I was A-Okay I'd kick your ass. “Is he sure she's the right girl?”

My roots protested as my hair got held in a fist. Tears burned behind my eyes—a force sent me rolling but the pressure in my scalp disappeared.

“What was that for you punk?”

I raised my gaze to them. The younger one had backed the scary dude a few feet away.

“She hasn't eaten in three days—she's weak—easy to hurt, injure, kill?” he drew sharply, voice higher. “He wants her alive—not dead. She's no use to us dead.” He repeated being shoved aside as he did.

In less than a full minute, I was shoved into a basement-room. The ground was soil and the only thing around was an old fashioned stove—those that heated up with firewood. Out of habit, I kicked out managing to hit the brute's side; there wasn't more than a grunt.

“Gil,” the chestnut haired boy warned as a murderous intent crossed Gil's eyes.

He manhandled me to the middle of the moldy room; my arms were drawn around the pipe belonging to the iron stove—it was the chimney—I winced when my back rammed into the cold curvy surface. My skin crawled as if stabbed with pins and needles. I thought about jerking forward, headbutting the Order member—one stolen look at the seemingly nicer guy told me not to do it.

My wrists were pulled, rounded by metal chains; they were swiftly overlapped to the point where I couldn't feel my circulation.

Click.

Gil crossed his arms, the other one stood beside me. No matter how I tried the restraints wouldn't budge—he had put a lock on the chains. Damn him to hell. His smug smirk made me glare with deep soothed hatred. My brain was coming to, even if I was still starving and parched, and it was thanks to the pain.

“Who's behind this...?” I forced.

Gil barked a laugh, “You shouldn't be so nosy, little girl, it might keep you out of trouble.” Unfortunately I was curious, and trouble followed me around.

“I want to know who kidnapped me and why.” That one left me tired. The cold gaze told me I was overstepping my boundaries. “...what do you want from me...?” it came out totally raspy, so much so, it seemed I was on the verge of crying. I wouldn't do that, though, I wasn't that Melissa anymore.

Gil side-glanced the boy, lips tipping, “We don't want anything from you. It would be nice to walk around without having to worry about being taken in—” he growled fists forming, chest rapidly rising and falling—nothing good came from that. “You can't change that now—what's done is done.” He bit out—it sounded like a mantra someone had been reciting so he wouldn't lose it. A sly expression took over. “We can, however, change the future.” He lost me there.

“And I play into the future how...?”

My eyebrow rose as his shadow crossed me. My eyes caught his—the dark gleam in his eyes frightened me. It was like standing in front of a starving wolf.

“He wants to use you for motivation.” Motivation...? motivation for—my jaw locked in a straight line I could hear the name being whispered by the silence.

“Nate...” I murmured. My chest flared with fierce protection. “What do you want from him?” if my kidnappings were normal I'd say they wanted a ransom. But I was never kidnapped by something so trivial.

Gil said nothing about the matter. He did pat his partner's shoulder.

“Now,” he began. “Don't be much of a hassle. Or Logan will have to take measures, ain't that right?”

Logan, I registered stealing a brief glance. He stood still as rock.

“—once this stove heats, the chimney does to. In case you haven't figure it out, you're tied to it. It'll give you nasty third degree burns.” All the glee in that explanation made me want to puke—good thing I didn't have anything to vomit. “I don't think blondie would like that, do you?”

Blondie? I blinked past the headache—it was really making me dumber. I knew better than to snort in a kidnapper's face—I did anyways. Nate would kill him just for calling him 'blondie', but for kidnapping and hurting me? He'd spiral, paint the walls with these guys' blood—it was gross, made me queasy, it was the truth.

Gil cracked a dry laugh going by Logan, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

My eyes slit as he went—door slamming. Logan stared steadily into my eyes, standing still. While I racked my head thinking just what they wanted with my boyfriend? And also... I wondered how he was doing, praying he wasn't losing it or alone or scared or—my stomach protested. I glared at it furiously. Why was eating a basic necessity?

“I don't think you'll be going anywhere.” Logan muttered making me glance up. “Don't try anything. There's no need to hurt you, okay?” he asked already at the door.

Giving a nod he left. Like I could try anything... Aric hadn't taught me how to get out of chains.

Nate's POV

My cheek stung. But I didn’t bother checking it, not until all the others left. There was a wet thing so I was pretty sure I had a bleeding cut. By the time training was dismissed, I wanted to go home. Not that people’s condo—to my house. I wanted to go there, maybe... maybe mom had gone back. Policeman could... could make mistakes. She could come back. Mom loved me, she—

“How was your first training session?” my eyes blinked, I focused on the pretty blond. It was Drew, the daughter of the people who adopted me. I crinkled my nose at the thought. Mom would come looking for me and then I wouldn’t be adopted by anyone, we’d go home and we would watch cartoons and eat lucky charms in the morning— “So?”

“Huh...” I didn’t know what to tell her. She’d been nice to me, so I guess I should be nice too. “It hurt,” I smiled a little—not too much or my cheek would hurt more.

She came closer to with a face I couldn’t read. I kept smiling, her head tilted.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I'm being friendly.” I stated softly.

Drew’s eyes looked over my face. Her finger touched the left side of it, where my cut was.

“Aww, look what they did to your pretty face, Nate.” She cooed brushing around the scratch. She was taller than me, I didn’t like that. Boys should be taller than girls, shouldn’t they? But she was older so.

I jumped all of a sudden. A giggle came from below. Drew had bent her head; something warm ran over my open cut. I shivered. It hurt and it was sort of weird...

“That’s gross.” I said when she stood.

Drew swallowed, yuck. That was my blood.

“No it’s like being a vampire.”

“Vampires aren’t real.” I boosted.

She smiled holding out a hand, “Nope, that’s why it’s fun to play pretend.” I smiled a little more. “Come on, I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

I didn’t think twice. I took her hand. The second we took a first step I found myself kissing the ground. What... I was spun on my back roughly, a hand pressed on my throat making me squirm.

“Ow...” I breathed out wriggling every way I knew how, clawing at her hand—desperate to prey it off.

Drew stood above me, a glint in her eye. Why was she doing this...? She... she was nice since I—the grip tightened and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t think about bad things.

“Open your eyes, Nattie.” She kept shaking me, forcing me to open them—but I didn’t want to. I didn’t like this place. I didn’t like the people and I was starting to hate this girl. My head was banged. “Open them, live through the pain.” That’s what the crazy training guy said. Live through the pain. “Good boy,” she said. I faintly snuck my eyes open. Quickly wishing I hadn’t. Drew wasn’t pretty right now, she looked like a monster from a nightmare. “You never trust your enemy, Nathaniel. Got it?”

“B-but you...” I struggled for breath, feeling helpless in her hands. “You aren’t... a-an enemy...” I was technically her brother—

Drew smirked from high up, “Everyone is your enemy.” I shook my head, she was nuts— “Yes,” I felt myself being lifted and thrown to the side. Gasping for air was all I could do. “Everyone is your enemy.” She repeated and her fingers dug into my hair. "Forget about family, friends—anyone really. You can’t trust anyone.”

My body was screaming in pain. Every nerve in my body wanted me to end this.

“Okay...” I rasped. “Just... stop. Please, stop—” my side flared with uncounted pain. She kicked me like I was a punching bag. This chick was insane. “Stop... stop!”

“You're begging,” her voice rang out from behind me, her shadow got closer, covering me. I whined when she kicked me over. “Never beg. That’s another lesson.”

I nodded my head. I didn’t care what I was agreeing to. My body wanted to curl up and rest right there. She didn’t let me.

“I’m sorry... I won’t beg. I won’t.” I shook my head gravely. My eyes were half open, enough to see her back off looking pleased.

“Good,” I flinched when Drew reached out a hand to my cheek—I couldn’t feel the little burn anymore, not when the pain in my body was so intense. “Now, where are you going, Nattie?” she dragged the diminutive. No one ever called me that. I didn’t like it.

“I’m... I’m going to the—to the infirmary.” I hoped that was the right answer.

“With who?” her voice went a little pitched.

I shrunk into myself, “Alone...?” the flinch couldn’t be helped when she pat my head.

“That’s a good boy,” I would’ve frowned if I wasn’t in a shivering fit. It was like I was a dog to her or something. “You have soft hair, it’s pretty too.” With that she got up. “See you back home, little brother.”

I shot up. Breathing uncontrollably fast, my head dropped into my open hands. Exhaustion prickled down my forehead in the for of sweat—beads fell to the T-shirt Aric had loaned me for the night. And what a night it was being. Nightmares piled up each time I was able to fall asleep. The worst part was that they were all real. I'd lived them, they'd been my life.

Leaning on the headboard, I glared outside. Morning wasn't far now—good. I didn't know how much longer I could hold it together, if I wasn't revisited by memories I dreamed about Melissa. Where she might be, what she might be going through—alone, scare for her life—hurt. If anyone had laid a finger on her... My teeth ground. I didn't know what I'd do, but something imaginative, no doubt.

No one hurt my girl and got away with it. No one.

Pinning the hair from my eyes, I closed them. The dreams were much worse when Mel wasn't around—I cracked a sad smile. She didn't even know that. The influence her presence had on me, calming, soothing... with her by my side I never felt unsafe. It was the stupidest thing ever—in my head—I could kill someone by pushing certain points of the human body. She should feel safe with me not the other way around.

You can't trust anyone.

I gulped, heaving. No, she wasn't right, nothing Drew ever taught me was right. Mel came into my life and thanks to her I knew what was like to care for someone, for someone to care about me.

Still... trusting people applied in Mel's world—not the assassination one. Crap, my own head was screwing around with me. Drew's teachings were hard to ditch, she spent day after day making sure they were inside my head—by beating them into me. Literally.

Breathing raggedly once more, I got up. I had to find Melissa before I did some stupid things I'd regret later.