Big thanks to all the folks who reviewed! It really makes my day! Good to know others can make sense of my ramblings! Something that Ruby Rosetta Red pointed out & I just want to clarify that my italics mean speaking not thoughts. Just trying something different for this fic.
George woke with a start, heart pounding as he released a raspy breath and closed his eyes tightly against the invading light.
He felt truly awful - his head fuzzy and groggy. What the hell just happened? Where was he?
He blinked once, and again, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brash flood of light, finally staring up to a high ceiling.
He was lying on a floor. Rough, cold tiles scraped his palms and pressed against his back. Any background noise was deafened by a ringing rattling his eardrums. He could vaguely hear voices – possibly calling for him – but he was unsure who or where they originated from.
As the effects of what felt like an exceptionally bad hangover wore off, George sat up slowly, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease his throbbing head. He waited for the light-headedness to pass before shakily standing to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest against the action.
He furrowed his forehead as the surroundings and voices became gradually clearer – the fogginess draining from his system as fear and adrenaline took over.
Had he been drugged? Knocked unconscious? He couldn't remember. He fought back the panic and tried to remember where he was last.
He remembered Annie vanishing to God knows where…the police…Nina on the kitchen floor…blood…so much blood pooling around her….everywhere…the hospital…then blackness.
George? It was Mitchell, his Irish twang rusty with worry. He was standing a couple feet away, watching his friend with growing concern.
George raised his hand effectively silencing Mitchell. Oh God, he knew where he was. He was back in that bloody cage – with Mitchell. What the hell was this?
A low chuckle echoed outside the cage and George twisted, pin-pointing its origin.
Herrick emerged from the shadows – not the man who cowered in the attic, but the Herrick brimming with calculated cruelty.
Finally! Sleeping beauty has joined the party. Now the fun can begin. Herrick smiled at George, the smile of a malicious predator preparing for the kill. He walked around the perimeter, clearly enjoying the turn of events. Shall we begin?
George kept his gaze to the floor as Herrick revealed revelation after revelation about Mitchell – all those terrible things he kept hidden. All those things George could have – should have – stopped his best friend from doing.
Herrick was setting up the perfect stage for a stand off. The final act. And George couldn't help but think it was working. He was finally forced to re-evaluate what his friendship meant. He couldn't ignore it anymore. Not now. Not as Nina lay hospitalized in a critical condition – her blood still fresh and wet on his shirt. Things had been fine – not fine – but ok in Bristol and now this?
When did everything get this bad? How did their life's end up at this turning point?
George clenched his fingers into fists, all his anger, all his revulsion threatening to burst to the surface. He could feel the wolf side egging him on, granting him permission.
It was all becoming too much.
And that's when he saw her – a swirl of grey catching the attention of his peripheral vision causing both men to look up in surprise.
Her presence was momentarily calming, until George really looked at her.
Now he was scared.
Ooh very short chapter!