Chains

                                                          C          H          A         I         N         S

My world of time flows backwards. It moves slow and is as course as sand clogging inside my throat. As it throws itself in reverse I reflect upon the events that took place before the timeline pulled itself apart leaving me to stitch it all up. I can feel everything slip through my fingers and my world is illuminated in a dull red which i now tie together in these undone seams as the taillights from a yellow flash of the vehicle that passes me. I had hoped the driver would slow, she how terribly distressed i seemed, but then it sweeps by leaving behind hot breath that glides against my body in a cruel current. My freedom whisks by and away to disappear over the roll of the hill. But then I briefly imagine that if I was in the drivers position I suppose I would be wary of a stranger who had come out of the woods looking frightfully disheveled, and pump my foot down on the gas to avoid them. You take the risk of hitchhikers no matter how innocent they seem. But I am also a doctor and therefore I must dissect myself further and wonder if some part of my would allow my car to idle and allow the safe passage of that same person. But I can’t overthink now—-no, I must continue to vie for my freedom. In my feeble attempt to draw it back with powers I will never uphold I dart in the direction of where it had disappeared. I can feel the gap of my kidnapper gaining ground over me as he now joins the steady pace of following after me upon the asphalt. I can feel he breath of wind push against my body slowing the inertia I’ve carefully built up. I fight against the world which seems to knowingly be against me in this dire time. I have to flag down someone to help me. I imagine that from their perspective my kidnapper and I look like a pair of unsynchronized joggers failing to match the others pace.

I focus only on the sound of my breathing. If I allow myself to get distracted then I tire becoming sluggish. Focus in the fuel that will keep me charged enough to keep going. To not only gain my freedom but Hinata’s as well. I can only hope the elder hasn’t returned and is now torturing her for information about my escape and absence of his youngest siblings presence. The limitations of my feminine body can only carry me so far. I have a huge disadvantage when it comes to physical stamina. The man chasing me however, is a mass of muscle. Men are built for doing heavy labor, I however, work mainly with my hands. I will pat myself on the back in saying that I do tend to eat healthy, watch my weight, and workout by walking the stretch of blocks to work in the city t keep my physique. But—-my assailants profession probably demands he push his limitations when keeping up his sculpted shape. He is a massive mountain built with sharp edges, sharp bones, taught muscles that easily stretch and expand beneath the pull of the skin. Mine however are warm and hot to the touch begging for rest.

I curse the male anatomy and then my own frayed nerves that tug at the doubt in my head that I cannot do this. I will not be able to outrun him and find safety in the passenger side of someone’s car. This fear in my head affects my performance and I can painfully feel myself slowing. The sweat pouring from my forehead does nothing to ease the heat of my body overloading. I have to catch my breath or my lungs will burst with the built up hot air. Before I succumb to my own defeat my assailant snags me by the crook of my elbow dragging me down into the soft muddy bed of the ditch against the side of the road. He doesn’t meet much resistance from me for I am far too weary to fight back and struggle against his hold. It seems we both silently agree we need a moment to steady ourselves before whatever fresh hell I’ll be put through. My mind blurs and the ache of my body flares up like a tidal wave and I groan when each nerve ending drums with heated matches in retaliation to the strain I’ve put on myself.

I can feel his full body weight slumping against my back as he pins me down with it, his chest digging into the wings of my shoulder blades. His breath is hot against my ear. I can feel him fidgeting in his pocket to pull out his phone and I listen as he gruffly relays a message to his brother. I cruelly hear another car swoop past without knowing I’m being pinned merely a few feet away from them. Why would they have any inclination to stop and look down? I keep to myself vowing to keep silent while the only car that does stop is the one I do not wish to get into. I’m dragged to my feet and forced inside the sun kissed cabin of the interior. I can smell the leather as it bakes against the hot sun through the pane of the windows and then the salt of my own soaked skin strangely enough reminds me of the spray of the sea. I can barely manage to sit up as I’m locked in and the younger brother slides to his position in the passenger side relaying all that had happened. I feel like a little girl again being told on by Ino after an innocent game turned against her favor and she got a scraped knee which seemed to evidently be my fault and caused by my hand. But the gut wrenching fear is greater than the mild humming that went through my stomach when I was a child facing the wrath of my parents. There was no danger in their punishments. Not like this. Not when I’m completely in the hands of my kidnappers and I do not know them personally or how they handle these sorts of things.

So I lie upon my bed not even able to make it to the shower to face them with dignity and let my eyes settle on the landscapes within the shadows of the wall that my eyes create illusions of. The pattern of the ceiling maps out seascapes. I can see the eddies of the tides. My brain even imagines the call of the gulls as faint as they are in my ears I swear I can hear them. I come back to myself when the door opens and my arms are seized again by a pair of hands. I am as limp as a noodle. I offer no resistance. I knew there would be consequences and so I honorably accept all my parts in this terrible plotting and will even beg for Hinata’s indifference to the plot. Sasuke doesn’t even bother to restrain my wrists as I became accustomed to during our meals when I’m out of my room. I gaze impassively past the fuzzy focused figures standing there in front of me. I feel my body melt into the fine soft folds of the recliner I’ve been put onto. Sleep throbs against the circular lining of my eye socket and my lids burn each time I blink. I wish they will get it over with quickly so I can succumb to sleep. The eldest speaks first.

“We have each talked it over and have come to a reasonable agreement as to what it is we should do in light of the situation at hand.” The second one picks up where the other leaves off. I steal a look to him wondering if he’s just as exhausted as I. He looks sturdy and confident in his stance. Not wavered at all by the chase an hour ago. I feel a little crestfallen because of this and my spirits falter even further.

“We’ve decided on something very suiting given how tired you appear.” I can hear the neck of a rope strain in protest as he pulls on a section offering it resistance when it straightens between the wingspan of his arms. The snap of it barely registers. I only want sleep. I barely notice when the elder disappears somewhere else in the house. Clearly this punishment is his brothers doing and therefore is to solely be carried out by him. He takes my wrists gently in his hands carefully knotting and working the bindings. I am led to an unfamiliar room which has the strong smell of sweat. It is almost pitch dark until the light of the doorway we entered from puts the room into focus. I can see the silhouettes sharpen into workout equipment. Am I to have my head bashed in by a fifty pound weight? I silently watch as he loops the length of the rope around a low hanging beam pulleying it tight until my arms raise above my head. Then his hands tighten and I am lift to the tip of my toes. The slack is tied off to a bar on a piece of machinery well out of my reach. Pain radiates throughout my body and I groan.

He plants himself on one of the benches used for lifting and faces me with a more relaxed demeanor. I wait for more to come. He merely speaks.

“We weren’t prepared for your arrival and we aren’t prepared to know what to do with you even now. But, you cannot just skate by without punishment. You risk compromising the hard work we’ve put into place here and so—-the repercussions will carry out as follows. You’re going to remain dangling in here for three days. I seriously need you to think about not attempting this again because the next time it happens it won’t be as easy as just hanging here.” Easy? I wanted to roll my eyes at him but even that would take energy that I didn’t have to do. I merely stay silent and listen as he continues on.

“I think my brother and I are fair when it comes to handing these things out. Since you weren’t part of this to begin with we get more free range as to what to carry out with you. So I will tell you now. You only get three strikes. And on that third one there will be no further actions taken. Simply put, the last thing you will see before you can plead or beg is a bullet and then darkness. I’d hate to have to bury a beautiful enigmatic woman of your profession in a shallow grave somewhere where your bones will rot in the sun.”

I shutter at the vivid imagery forced into my mind. I can see in his eyes he seems a little more reserved. As though he wouldn’t take pleasure in doing it. Is he actually worrying for my own good? Or is he just spewing bullshit? Because a threat is still a threat. By letting me know that I won’t be put down by my second attempt that’s almost a guarantee that I will do this again. So why even put that idea in my head? Why wait for another plot to take shape? There’s a strain in my arms as their forced to stretch to their limits and not being able to relieve them with a little weight from my body by planting my feet on the ground only makes it worse. So I’d be stuck like this for three days...when my mind was already stretched thin like fair taffy, and my insurance was sapped to nothing. How would I be able to stand not moving my limbs? How was I to relieve the tension in my joints? My weight was being used against me in the cruel display of gravity that pulled me to the floor. I feel defiance burning in the pit of my stomach.

“What about food and relieving myself?”

“Holler.” He spoke as though this was just another tedious chore. I felt my nails bite moons into my palms and the rope sigh against the tension. He’s batting away this situation like I was a mere fly buzzing around his head. I used whatever saliva I had left to hock it onto the floor at his feet. My lips chapped thanks to me forgetting to breathe through my nose and not my mouth.

“Fuck you.” His eyes linger on the short distance of spit by the tips of his shoes and then dangerously glide up to my gaze. A shutter runs through me. I swore I was not going to be afraid of these men, even concocted a mini mantra to recite in my head that I wouldn’t be. And yet with just that one low flat cast of his stare was enough to unleash all those pent up panics. I could deny it all I wanted, I could force the word in my mind back behind walls and barricades, but the true simple fact of it was, that I was terrified of him. Of them both. Fear was just a word but to actually feel it due to someone else putting it into you is an entirely different beast. A beast of burden. I gulp air lightly watching as he stands and draws nearer to me. There isn’t much room for me to move my limbs. Yet I try.

I can feel the breath in my throat stolen away by the mere aura of him. His lips threaten to touch the shell of my ear and as I gasp softly feeling all the oxygen in my body still and hitch inside my lungs I listen with every fiber of my being when he utters:

“It could have been just that. Be grateful it wasn’t.” And I listen as he shuts the door and I am left to darkness before I break down and sob uncontrollably. The threat, being caught, his warning, me stupidly cursing at him, and then him confirming that—-rape could have been the alternative to me being bound broke the dam inside me and I wept through half the night.

  The next time I was fully conscious I heard the gentle songs of the birds twittering outside the hellish walls of my prison. There was a sliver of light expanded upon the walls and refracting up to the ceiling. I listened to the door open and there he was, the man who promised the destruction of my very existence standing there with the unfortunate nourishment my body needed. I could smell the eggs and suddenly longed to be once more shackled at the table. At least there the threat was absent, I could speak with Hinata, I didn’t think have to constantly think about my mortality and how any second by this mans hand it could be snuffed out.

“Morning.” He spoke the words just as simply as he did when dishing out the threat the night before. I head the binding of the rope become slack and I’m dropped to my knees which crash heavily against the grain of the wood flooring. I yelp to myself trying to find my balance. The bones in my feet ache painfully and with his own point of his shoe he pushes the tray over to me. He purposely put it on the floor knowing I would land here. The water inside my glass sloshes about and before a single precious drop can escape from the brim I gulp it down. I reserve myself to carefully scarf the rest of my breakfast down before cleaning the entire plate within a mere five minutes and draining the rest of my glass catching the droplets on my lips and demanding them to roll over my tongue.

“Slow down or you’ll just puke it back up. Make sure you use the bathroom too before I come back.” He leaves me to drag myself across the floor to the small bathroom. As I go and wash my hands I quickly stretch my locked joints urging them to bend freely by rubbing away the warmth in my tingling muscles. I focus on the back of my calves, the balls of my heels, the pad of my foot, the joints in my toes, and then before I can even get to my forearms he’s back and he puts my wrists in the loose fitted nooses before tightening them up and getting me back to my allotted position the night before. As I dangle alone I reflect. I cannot tell you all that I thought about during those blank blurry periods of time but I can tell you there was so much I did think on that my head started to get a migraine.

I only ate in the morning and at night. But it felt like constant night in here. And on the third one he came in to release me. I’d never been so relieved to see that bastard knowing he was going to let me go back to my cage but at least in there it was my space and I could do as I pleased. Not to mention move and actually sleep on a bed and look outside. Perhaps that was his plan after all, that I was supposed to reflect on how good I had it. Whatever the case I was thankful he was here to send me back up to the room. Off came the bindings but before I could fall to my knees he caught me around my waist. I could feel the tension in his body and something in me just knew he demanded my attention. Something told me he needed to say something and when I looked up at him meeting those cold gray slated eyes he spoke evenly just as before.

“We need to talk...”