Charity's Warrior

by Unknown

  WHEN I WAKE UP again, my first reaction is anger. I'm pissed as hell that he'd drugged me again. I wasn't going anywhere. He didn't have to do it.

  The bastard!

  I am still lying on the bathroom floor. The water bottle is just few feet away, and I stretch my arm out and grab it, needing something to clean out the awful, metallic taste the drug left behind. When I sit up to drink, the open door finally catches my eye.

  At first I thought it was a mistake, or that he's left me alone, but just through the door I can see a TV and a recliner. On the arm of the recliner I can see his elbow. I sit up further, straining to see. The TV is on, but the picture isn't moving at all. It looks like it could be a security camera in someone’s living room, just an empty room sitting and waiting for something to happen.

  My chains are loud on the tiles, echoing in the silence of the room. Unless he's sleeping, he knows I'm up. His elbow didn't move, so I can't tell if he's just ignoring me. I think he is. I think he's waiting to see what I do, maybe laugh at me.

  The empty plate from my pizza is gone. He waited until the drugs put me out again, and he came in here for the plate, checking on me. Maybe leaving the door open was his way of testing me, to see if I was going to be cooperative.

  His chair moved a little bit, as if he shifted is weight. Then the channel on the TV changed. Now we are watching the outside of a small house and the yard around it. I was right; they were security cameras, not still shots. I can see the trees blowing in this view, their thick branches waving gently back and forth.

  Not knowing the significance of this other place petrifies me. The minutes passed away endlessly, and he does nothing but watch. I can imagine that's all he's done in the hours we've been here. Sometimes your own thoughts can be your worst enemy. My mind has decided that this little house is where he is taking me next. He is saving me for then, for that moment, and when we get there he's going to play with me until I'm dead. That's what he's doing right now, planning, fantasizing about my death. And he is teasing me with it, wanting me to see it.

  That's why the door is open.

  I curled my knees up and wrapped my arms around my naked legs. I've never been so low and vulnerable in my life. My head falls to my knees with my blonde hair covering over me like a blanket, and I cry.

  I am not alright, and it's time I started to admit it to myself. I'm not alright now—and I'm really not going to be later.

  My body is beginning to ache from the hard floor.

  Huddled up in my little ball, I begin to pray. I pray to be saved, to be protected. In each prayer, it's Justin that I'm praying for. I need him now more than ever, need it to not be him sitting in that chair in the other room. That can't be him because right now I need to believe that he's out there coming for me, tracking this guy down like an animal. I need to believe that he cares for me so much that nothing will stop him. To get through this, I have to imagine myself in his strong arms, being wrapped up in his cloak of zealous protection.

  His eyes and smile become my guide, the focal point anchoring me to any hope of being rescued and surviving this. Soon my fingers will be pushing his blonde hair back so that I can caress his ear and his firm jawline. His hands will hold me tighter than they ever have, squeezing me into him as if we would become one. The desire to feel his strong lips again will keep me going.

  That was something worth fighting for.

  I thought about Justin for so long and so hard that eventually I forgot where I really am. The line between memory and reality vanished. I am perpetually floating around in a gondola listening to him tell me that he's in love with me. There is no limit to how many times I could hear that. Those words came from his mouth, and once they hit my ears, they were mine to keep. The gondolier never grows tired. The sunset never ends. Justin said those words to me, giving up everything that he was. A man that does that was always going to be there for me.

  I gave myself up for him too. I was his. There is nothing I needed more in the world than his love. I was already reinventing myself, and falling in love with him was a huge part of that. We are better with each other.

  We were still going around and around on the endless gondola ride, watching the endless sunset, when a noise shattered my fantasy.

  My head is still perched on my knees, the tears slowly dripping down my legs. My arms are cramped into tight knots as they hold me in a ball, my backside screaming about the hard floor.

  A noise from the other room had distracted me. I look up at the chair first, praying he isn't coming for me now. His elbow is gone and I can see the top of his head high above the back of the chair. He's sitting bolt upright, excited about something. It has his full, bright attention. His face is still pointed toward the TV, so that's where I look next as well.

  We are watching the security camera. It is still focused on the angle from outside the small house. I didn't notice before, but the house looks yellow with a white door and two small windows on each side of it, trimmed in white. It was nothing special, nothing interesting or attention grabbing.

  Suddenly I am sitting bolt upright as well. There are people, at least five or six that I can see, slowly moving in to the house. They have guns drawn like cops, but they don't have on any uniform that I can see. They move in like something you would see in a movie, using hand signals and hopping from obstacle to obstacle for cover.

  I don't have a clue yet what is going on, but I know they are hunting. The fact that he'd been watching, waiting for this—they must be hunting for him.

  That made my heart race. If they find him, they find me. My eyes are glued to the screen as they meticulously approach the house. They were well trained, which gives me hope.

  As I watch, it dawns on me that he's been expecting this. Why else was he watching, and had all the cameras set up? So he was not a complete fool. And he has at least minimal resources. A whole house to use as a decoy. Money and surveillance equipment.

  JP?

  He was not in my life yet when the hooded man attacked me at the Grill. It made no sense at all. I didn't even know him then, and he didn't know me.

  But he could fake it!

  I realize JP knows about the attack, knows every detail, enough to fake it, pretend to be the same attacker, get everyone looking in the wrong direction—for the wrong person!

  All of the men were surrounding the house now, and one of them was at the front door, about to pick the lock.

  JP, or whoever it was, stabbed a remote at the screen and it switched to the inside view, just as the door swung open and a flood of masked people rushed in. We could hear the shuffling of their feet, which is the only way I know the camera has sound. I've never seen anything like it, that many people, guns drawn, clearing the rooms in nearly absolute silence. Their precision was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

  Finally someone called out, "Clear!" and everyone relaxed, guns disappearing in utter disappointment.

  Several of them gathered in the main room on the left side of the camera. They all surround one man in particular, which makes me believe he is their captain. They look to him for direction.

  "It's a decoy," one of them said, startling me since it was a woman's voice—a familiar one.

  The leader's body language is intense, his chest heaving like a bull. I noticed they had gathered around him, but they had all also all kept a safe distance, all except the woman. She was close, everyone else was too afraid. His head turned around the room, assessing it, searching.

  "He's watching," the lead growled, the familiarity of the voice set me on fire. His eyes set right on us. Two of his men practically jumped out of his way as he marches right through them, right at the camera.

  His hand fills the screen for a moment. The view shook as he yanked the camera from where it was hidden, and the whole angle changed as he brought the camera close to his own face.

  His other hand grabbed at his neck, at the bottom of the hood-like mask they all wore. He grabbed it and lifted it off for the camer
a.

  Tears of joy and relief, of love and hope, instantly fell from my eyes as Justin's gorgeous face nearly fills the screen. He's never looked like this in front of me, the fierceness in his eyes, and the muscles in his jaw rippling his cheeks. There is a line of stitches on the left side of his forehead that disappeared up under his hair.

  Right now, for this instant, I feel safe and warm. I feel saved.

  "I'm going to kill you," Justin said stiffly. "If you've hurt her at all, I will make your death last days. If you've killed her, it's going to be months."

  Oh my God! The anger in his face...there are no words for it. There is heartache, too, and something else buried under it all, looming under the surface.

  Fear. Not for himself—for me!

  His passion for me transcends the distance between us. I feel him. He is right here with me. There is nothing for me to fear at the moment. Soon, very soon, he will find me and rescue me once again.

  "You better have her safe. This only bought you a day. I will find you. I will get her back!"

  Justin jerked the camera and the screen turned to static.

  The hooded man changed to the outside camera, and within seconds, two black SUV's pulled up on the screen and everyone from within the house evacuated. It was if it had never happened, as far as the small yellow house could tell you. I have no idea how Justin put this together, what he is involved in, but I know he's on my side, and I am damn glad for that.

  "What are you going to do now?" I asked, full of confidence now with my faith in Justin restored.

  He didn't move or reply. I don't think he is as prepared as he thought. I think he expected police and regular SWAT, not this. The game just changed on him. These people, they didn't look like people that had to play by rules.

  "He is going to kill you, JP," I said, deciding to take a gamble.

  He suddenly, angrily, rose up out of the chair. "Who the fuck is JP?" he screamed as he pulled the hoodie off his head and turned toward me, charging me like a bull.

  My eyes grow wide. I'm shocked, and the disbelief is mind blowing. I did not suspect him, would have never thought him capable. And I would never have suspected the anger on his face as he entered the bathroom with me.

  I try to put my hands up to defend myself, but the chains limit me.

  He grabs my forearms and easily tosses me flat to the floor. I'm his rag doll, nothing more. I curl into a ball as my only defense, and he descends on me, the weight of him covering me like a heavy blanket.

  "I don't give a shit what he says," he says wickedly into my ear. I can feel the heat of his dangerous breath. "You're mine, not his!"

  I feel a long needle pierce deep into my back, much deeper than was necessary. There was a jolting crunch where I think the needle rammed my shoulder blade, and then a hotness that spread out from that spot all around me. It took over my will and I stopped struggling.

  He felt it happen and got off me, standing over my naked body like my king and master. It wasn't easy but I manage to roll to my side. The sound of the chains on the tiles is distorted by the drugs taking affect in me. It echoes and morphs into long whines like metal wind chimes in a strong breeze.

  I can feel his eyes on me, in places he doesn't have the right to look. He knows I see him looking and he doesn't care. I'm not a thing to care about; I'm a thing to have. When I see the crotch of his jeans twitch and bulge while he stands there, I want to cry.

  He doesn't have the right to look at me like this, to think of me that way. The drugs take hold deeper and my head swims.

  At last I see him turn and storm out of the bathroom. In a troll-like voice I hear him say, "I should have killed him a couple days ago when I had the chance."

  The bathroom door slammed closed behind him.

  IT WAS AWHILE BEFORE he came back, but not long enough. The drugs still have me in their stronghold. Before I was even aware, he had unlocked me from the pipes and had my hands now chained behind my back. He's trying to lift me, but I am a limp, wet noodle that keeps spilling out of his arms, my head rolling around like a ball on a string.

  His excitement and frustration are bubbling over. "Jesus Christ! Get the fuck up!" he cries out.

  I'd laugh at the fucker if I could.

  Like before, his voice is distorted into a cheap movie sound effect. That made me laugh, but I can't tell if I'm actually laughing or just thinking about it.

  There's a sheet wrapped around me now. He wasn't just getting me out of the bathroom, we were leaving. It wasn't hard to guess why.

  Justin.

  "Yes! He's a real pain in my fuckin' ass," he growls.

  Apparently, I am thinking out loud.

  Everything suddenly spins, the entire room turns upside down. I can see his backside; the heels of his feet as he walks us out into the main room. I am tossed over his shoulder like a sack of laundry.

  The living room is a disaster, even to my spinning eyes. There are beer cans and empty bags of snacks all over the floor. The empty pizza box is left open on the table with a crushed two liter soda bottle beside it.

  The room floods with light from behind me when he swings open the front door. He carries me out and my eyes wince against the burning brightness. I try to fight them open, but I still don't have control of myself.

  We bounce down a set of stairs and a few strides later I feel him shifting me back around and shoving me into the back seat of a car. I'm able to open my eyes now, in the shade inside.

  He left me for a moment, and when he comes back he slaps tape over my mouth. It seems a waste of time, since I can barely speak. He leaves my head propped just high enough on the seat that I can see through the window.

  I didn't see any reason he is acting this way, no sign of the black SUV's or Justin and his team. Something big had happened or he wouldn't risk having me out like this without shoving me in the trunk again. He's in a hurry, so there must be a reason.

  He got into the drivers seat and turned the car on. At first he did nothing but take a deep breath, letting it out slowly to get himself under wraps. He's panicking, and that isn't going to help his mission. It might help me, though.

  Carefully, he drops the car into drive and eases his foot off the break. We pull away like a couple going to the grocery store. No rush. No panic.

  Once we get away to wherever he feels safe, he will move me back to the trunk, I'm sure of that. This was a scramble, an unexpected escape. But for now, even in my stupid high, I try to use what I can.

  There are a lot of trees around, but not a lot of houses, which look more like cabins. I think it's a campground. The trees have moss swinging on the branches, nothing that we ever see in the Northeast. There are some palms mixed into the density, too. We're South, but still East Cost, Georgia, maybe further. He did tell me he was going south when he asked me to come with him.

  I looked over at him while he took us down the road. I don't know why I have never been able to see this in him, this evil and sadistic side that would now rape or kill me as easily as he used to kiss me.

  Steve's eyes caught me in the rearview mirror, looking at him. I searched for any sign of the man I used to know.

  I didn't find him. There's nothing left but this animal that had obviously tracked me from home to the city and had attacked me at the Grill the night I met Justin. He followed me around. All those times I saw the hoodie—it was him. And, judging by the stitches Justin had on his head, Steve had attacked us both that last night, probably took Justin from behind by surprise.

  Like a coward! A dirty friggin’ coward!

  This was something different, this thing in his place, and I don't have a feeling or care for this thing. When Justin gets his hands on it, I'm not going to stop him. He can do whatever he wants with him. After what I saw earlier, I'm pretty sure Justin somehow has the means to kill him, and I'm fine with that.

  I realize that's my anger and fear talking—I'm fine with that, too.

  There is a lot more to Justin than I know. How he
was commanding a team of what had to be mercenaries, I don't have a clue, but the only thing that matters is his heart, and that was true to me, I saw it in his eyes, the same way I can see into Steve's eyes.

  Steve drove us around a few streets where the cabins grew closer together, still going slow and attracting absolutely no attention. I see a sign that says "office" with an arrow pointing in the direction we are going, and then we came into an area with a big cluster of buildings and a swimming pool. The main entrance.

  I can't explain the excitement of seeing Lena standing beside a black SUV at the exit. It was her familiar voice earlier on the camera with Justin.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Steve hissed.

  Drugged or not, I want to be a seen. I fight to get an inch or two higher in the window. The clinking chains betray me, and Steve catches me, reaching between the seats and grabbing the chain between my ankles. There is a vicious, uncaring yank and the metal links dig into my flesh, bruising my ankles and wrists as I slide flat on to the seat. He lets me go and rummages through the console next to him. I didn't expect him to come back with a gun pointing into my eyes.

  "Do anything like that again and I'll kill us both!" he demanded. "Understand?"

  I nodded, which makes my drugged head bobble.

  This is too fucking surreal. I feel like I'm lost somewhere in a Tarantino film.

  He turns back around and makes a casual left turn to get away from the exit. I'm sure it's not the only way out, but I was willing to bet Justin has them all covered by now. There was not going to be a way out.

  I can't see where we're going. The car shifts left and right, and I see the sky spinning through the windows. I keep expecting him to be seen, for him to stomp on the gas trying to get away, but he keeps it slow and steady, showing a patience I would not have believed from him.

  Eventually, he stops and turns the car off. He gets out while I watch, but doesn't say a word to me. I'm too terrified to risk sitting up—he still has the gun.

  A large, dark cover came over the front window. Steve was sliding a car cover over me, concealing me. He got it fixed on all sides and then rapped on the window right above my head.