Soooooo
I really have no excuse, because I just got hired on full time at my job and I've been writing up a bunch of new things and I feel like this story hasn't been the BEST it could be but honestly I really enjoy writing it so I will continue like I said I would.
And then move on to the next project that I have.
I hope this came out alright I had to rewrite it five fucking times.
She woke up startled; sweat dripped down from her chin, to her cheek, then over her temple before falling into her hairline.
She gasped, realizing that the tunnel vision that she was experiencing was from being upside down for too long and as she looked down at the dimly lit floor, she realized that it wasn't sweat that was dripping from her face.
It was her blood.
Memories seemed to hit her harder than the fist from earlier, and she remembered the error of her ways.
She winced when she heard boisterous laughter coming from outside, or above; she couldn't really tell her ears were ringing too much for her to get a grip on reality.
Steps started to pound above her, and she realized that it was probably both.
She groaned in pain, twisting her body awkwardly and squinting her eyes. It was so dark, too dark for to adjust her eyes to look that far within the room and she groaned in pain as she let her body twist back and swing her around, putting tension and pain on her ankles and wrists.
Annabel huffed, looking at the chains and rope around her wrists and attached her to the floor, and grimaced.
"I should have listened…"
-.- Four Days Earlier -.-
Mornings after heavy drinking on an empty stomach sucked.
Her manners always seemed to leave her as she struggled to get up, cursing as she did with achy joints, and running towards the bushes to dry heave whatever was left in her stomach.
It wasn't much usually. Stomach acid and whatever alcohol that was left always seemed to burn her esophagus as it came up. She hated it, the way her stomach would roll and tense with every heave, the way her eyes would go cross eyed and make her feel like she was hanging upside down. It was terrible, and she should have eaten something, or not drink so fucking much.
Then she remembered why she drank so much as the burning, stinging pain radiated and throbbed from her shoulder. She grimaced as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and leaned over her knees.
"Good mornin'." Arthur pitched in, his tone filled with amusements and all Annabel could do was glare weakly at him.
"Don't say a damn word…" she huffed, seemingly out of breath. He huffed a breathy chuckle and walked over with his canteen.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He tried to guide her over to the fire, but she snapped like a feral animal and wobbled over to the fire by herself. Her sloppy movements were something that reminded him of how a child looked when they were learning to walk; arms out to their sides and legs moving awkwardly to accommodate their growing bodies.
She looked ridiculous.
Annabel plopped herself down by the fire; letting out a small grunt as she landed hard on her bottom.
Arthur couldn't help but chuckle as he found a place next to her, taking in her glares and grimaces. "I told you to eat las' night."
"I don't remember last night."
"Light weight." She gaped at him, and he could tell she was trying her hardest not to smile at his joke.
"Don't be so rude." He stabbed a chunk of rabbit fillet with his hunting knife and handed it to her.
"Eat up, I'll pack up the tent."
"We're leaving so early?" she didn't really protest as she took the knife from him and staring at him with disbelievement. "The sun is barely up."
"Yeah, well after the commotion that you caused last night I want to get out of her before they do their mornin' rounds."
Annabel stared at him for a moment before she started to remember how they ended up out here.
She had shot a man.
Two, actually.
She couldn't help but feel sick again with her stomach churning and gurgling loudly as Arthur started to tear down her tent.
She didn't mean to put a bullet in them, but they had threatened her. They had put her in a corner with a knife to her throat and she didn't want to seem like a helpless little thing.
She wasn't a helpless little thing.
Annabel started to gnaw on the piece of meat on the knife as she remembered blowing the one man's brains out with his own revolver. She remembered the way that his skull cracked and splattered and how her ears rang from the loud pop of the gun.
She remembered the horrified screams of the guests in the hotel, and the cursing of the other man who tried to put a bullet in her.
Her reactions were both a blessing and a curse as she closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She didn't want anyone to suffer; she didn't want to hurt anyone.
Why was the world like this, she thought. This cruel world was nowhere near as tamed as the papers always claimed.
This country was still so wild and free and it was ready to eat her whole.
"Anna?" she looked up at Arthur as he placed a soft hand on her shoulder. There was a tight, tense silence that seemed to hand between them a lot more often than she really hoped and all she could think of doing was talking. She merely wanted to open up about her thoughts and her worries but she was still so angry at everything that she knew that she would only scream if she tried.
"I'm alright. I promise." He hummed, knowing full well that she was full of shit.
But he didn't argue because they had argued enough.
"Everythin's packed up." He started to put out the fire by kicking dirt over the slowing flames. "I think it's time for us to move on."
She looked over to the small village of Bluewater that seemed to be bustling and awake and most likely cleaning up the mess from last night. Annabel knew that he was right, that moving on from this spot would mean that would be less heat on them, especially since they were a few days away from the border of Arizona.
As she thought about crossing over the border from New Mexico to Arizona, she couldn't help but feel a huge sense of freedom that succumbed her fears and worries and sadness. It was time to move on, she thought as the small rays of sun hit the back of her neck that was followed by a brisk winter breeze.
With a sigh, and a simple smile she looked up at Arthur, "I think so too."
The New Mexico/Arizona border wasn't as exciting as Annabel made it seem in her head.
There wasn't even a sign that said they were in Arizona.
They didn't even know they were in Arizona until they hit the first town that was labeled on the map.
Houck was a dinky little town that was still surrounded by dirt and cacti and rolling brush, but it was still a pleasant place to stay overnight while the two of them restocked their items.
Annabel felt something crawl up her throat as they checked into their room, and even though she had asked for a room with two beds they had given them a room with only one bed.
Now that's really not a problem, it's not the first time this trip that it was only one bed that they offered.
But for some reason, something settled within her stomach as she stepped into the extremely clean room.
Arthur seemed unfazed as he placed their bags in the corner, and honestly he seemed happy that the place was clean and not so dusty like the others seemed to have been.
But Annabel felt like something was going to happen. Something terrible and she couldn't do or say or eat anything, even as Arthur tried to coax her to do any of those three things.
She wasted the stew that he brought her, and sat at the desk looking over the map and the other papers with only a candle as her light. She went over her route over and over and over but she just couldn't seem to shake the feeling of uneasiness.
Arthur noticed it all, starting with the way she tugged and twirled her hair with shaky hands and how tense her shoulders were and how she tapped her pen on the desk over and over and over causing that god awful ticking…
Tick tick tick tick tick.
"Jesus, Annabel." He groaned loudly, and Annabel jumped at his voice. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were red; flushed with embarrassment.
"Sorry, I just…" she sighed, letting the pen roll out of her hand and onto the desk, "I have this God awful pit in my stomach and not matter how long I stare at this map and my letters, I just can't seem to shake it."
He saw the way her brows furrowed with worry, the small frown that graced her lips, and the creases in her nose as she scrunched it in disgust. She was frustrated and worried and exhausted but forcing her to go to bed would be a terrible idea.
But getting her out of the room to try and relax would also be impossible to do.
He stared at her in silence, a hand covering his mouth as he watched the way her eyes shifted from him, to the window he was sat next to, then to the ugly carpet that laid underneath his feet.
They sat like that for a long while, letting the silence around them consume them; suffocate them.
There was a knock on the door, followed by a hesitant hum and Arthur couldn't help but let his hand fall to the wooden handle of his revolver.
Annabel seemed tense as her eyes followed Arthur, who was already up and walking over to the door and opening it a crack.
Outside stood a woman, her face caked in makeup and her bodice squeezing her out a bit too much. Her lips were painted a bright red, and her nails seemed well manicured as she leaned in the doorway and pushed the door open a little more at the sight of Arthur.
"Hey there, handsome." Her drawl was definitely fake and exaggerated, and her smile seemed forced though her eyes couldn't help but look Arthur up and down.
Annabel did her best to hide her amusement as Arthur stiffened at the term of endearment but he dropped his hand from his gun at the sound of her. His eyes looked over the woman, just as an instinctual thing and he had to clear his throat and look away for a moment.
"You lookin' for some fun?" Annabel couldn't help but giggle softly, covering her mouth as Arthur seemed to be choking on his words.
The woman didn't seem to notice Annabel's giggles, and continued to pressure softly. "A big man like you is definitely not from town and fresh meat is always a good thing."
Annabel bit her lip hard at the sight of his reddening cheeks and the tension in his shoulders.
"Ah, not interested." Arthur goes to shut the door, but the woman blocks the door with her foot.
"How can I change yer mind, honey?" she bats her lashes at him, and he can't help but place his hand on his gun again.
"You best be gettin' on, Darlin' before you get yerself into something you can't get out of."
Arthur noticed something flick over the woman's face; a different set of emotions that he wasn't expecting from a working girl, but more from someone trying to make a calculated move.
She didn't say anything more and with a quick smile, she moved on.
Arthur watched her sway away from their door, and he couldn't help but wonder if Annabel was right about her bad feelings.
Women did have a tendency to have a sixth sense, or whatever people called it.
She stood by the desk, worried and ready to move as he closed the door was a soft click of the latch and loud thunk of the deadbolt. Her worry was back, and she started to chew on her nail as he tried to remove the scowl off of his face.
"Should we leave?" her voice was soft, and her stomach started to churn with that same uneasiness from earlier. "It won't be too hard to pack everything up again." He held a hand out, quietly telling her to keep calm, but she wouldn't be able to keep calm when there was no calm to attach herself too.
"Easy, Anna." Arthur made quick strides over to the window, slightly moving the sheer curtains over to watch and see if he could see the woman walk out from the hotel. "Movin' now after something like that would be suspicious."
"Do you think it's Micah and his gang?" Annabel's voice was quiet as she spoke his name, almost as if that one word would set Arthur off on a rampage.
But all he did was grit his teeth and scrunch his nose, "Unfortunately, it jus' might be." He continued to watch out the window as he spotted the woman trudge her way through the muddy roads and towards the general store, though it was closed at this time of night.
There were a few men standing outside the place, talking her up softly and he knew at that point that they were here for him.
He was pulled from his thoughts of escape by a small, soft hand within his. Her fingertips glided over his calloused palms and he noticed just how warm she was as she laced her fingers with his before placing her other hand on his forearm.
Time seemed to move slowly as she started to pull him away from the window, and away from the worries that plagued him. He can't imagine if she was dragged into the middle of this feud that was almost family related. If she was taken from him, hurt by these people who were in alliance with the man that ruined his family.
He couldn't have that happen to her.
He just couldn't.
"We should move." Her voice was but a whisper, but it still carried to his ears. He noticed he was standing in the middle of the room, and she was so close to him with her brows knitted in worry and fear.
He really didn't expect his body to move on its own like it did, and he was a little surprised by the jerky movements of his own hand as he pressed his thump over her brow to try and smooth out the creases.
He noticed the soft sigh that escaped her lips as he did that, and he noticed how her eyes fluttered closed as his hand moved down to cup her cheek.
The small calluses on his thumb run over her freckled cheeks and a sense of calmness washed over him as he listened to her sigh deeply. He noticed the way her head leaned into his hand, and he couldn't help but grin a little at the sight of her just melting under his touch.
She was content and warm with his hand simply on her cheek, though he heart was beating so hard that she was afraid it was going to pop out of her chest.
He was going to say something; but his brain didn't work as fast as his lips did as he was trying to mumble out some form of a sentence.
But a knock pulled them from their thoughts, and each other.
Arthur pulled Annabel behind him; almost instinctually and a little too harshly as he heard her wince at his grip.
There was a groan of annoyance on the other side of the door, before another knock.
"Do you think they're still in there?"
"I doubt it, and I don't really want to go in."
"We should though, just in case."
"Nah, there's no way they would stay after what happened in Bluewater."
"Well, if David asks if we checked, it's all on you." There was footsteps stomping down on the stairs, before silence overtook them again.
Arthur looked behind him and towards Annabel, who's eyes were fixed on the door with such intent he thought she was going to rip it off the hinges with her mind.
"I think we should go." He grumbled, and she couldn't help but feel defeated. She didn't know why; he was finally agreeing with her to keep moving, but she wanted to sleep in a bed for a night.
But all she could do was nod. "Okay."
The trek to Flagstaff was rough.
It was hard to hide from people in a wide open, snowy desert and passing through town to just try and keep your head low while they were a day or two behind was no easier.
Annabel suggested running off the path; hike along the Little Colorado River that ran through the Grand Canyon and lose them within the forest that surrounded Flagstaff. It was a solid plan, and it would shave a few days from their entire trip.
If only they weren't running out of canned food and other supplies.
And if only Annabel could shut up about how exhausted she was.
She was becoming saddle sore, and Arthur was no hearing the end of her complaining and huffing like a child. Her thighs were becoming sore and the last time she looked, they were bruised lightly with yellow and purple and blue.
"What's the next stop?" He heard her rustle with her bag to pull out her maps.
"Winona." She mumbled, squinting at the small dot she made on her paper. "I don't really know how far out it is."
"That's fine, but for the sake of my sanity and your ass, we should get there soon." He grumbled in annoyance, and she couldn't help but huff once more.
"Not my fault that we just had to be chased by some goon's crazy lackeys because he can't let go of the past."
"It has nothing to do with the past."
"Well, whatever it is, your sanity isn't bothered by my saddle sore arse." She grumbled at him, trying her best to shift comfortably in her seat with a small grimace. He noticed the way her legs lifted her off her seat, and how she pushed her heels down in her stirrups when she adjusted over and over. He also noticed how big the skirts on her dress were as she sat back down slowly while fixing her skirt. She didn't have to sit in a weird position because her skirt wouldn't accommodate her legs, instead, she had a skirt that spilled perfectly over her thighs and over the back of her saddle.
He cleared his throat and look forward, between his mares ears and tried his best to keep his eyes on the road ahead of them, but he would throw side glances ever now and again and see the way her back straightened and how her heels would shift and squeeze Flynn's sides to keep him at his trot.
Her baby hairs were being blown back by the soft wind, and the fur collar of her winter coat laid flat from said wind.
To him, this was nothing but beauty at its finest.
To her, she felt disgusting.
She had noticed his eyes on her, and the way he would contort his face and look away only to look back at her. The cycle was vicious for him; to have his eyes caught by someone like her even though he knew that she wasn't going to move with his acts.
And he was starting to get antsy because he specifically remembered her leaning into his hand at the hotel back at Houck, but she still won't give him the time of day.
Why were women so damn confusing?
"Arthur." Her voice was strong, loud but her eyes were soft and sweet and filled with exhaustion.
He also started to remember that she hasn't had a proper night's sleep since Bluewater; if anyone could call that drunken sleep proper.
"Winona is a few miles out," she pointed to a sign, large and colorful and pointing out the exact mileage to the next town. "Should we just ride it out?"
He sighed, stretching his back out and he felt Morrighan shudder under him and snort with annoyance. He patted her shoulder as she started to dig with her hoof.
"As long as we don't push them for too long. If you're getting saddle sore, no doubt they're starting to feel it, too."
"Alright." She stretched once more, before putting away her map and humming softly. "To Winona."
They didn't get to stay in Winona.
They barely got to set foot in Winona.
The first thing they both noticed was how quiet and empty the place seemed, despite the high buildings and large saloon. There were no horses hitched in front of any building, and no music seeping from the liquor halls like they usually would at this time of night.
No… there was nothing but snow, mud and horse shit.
The second thing they noticed was one man that sat in front of the hotel, sipping a dark amber drink and humming a tune that seemed unfamiliar and odd.
"Do you know how hard it is to try and track you, Mr. Morgan?" he didn't look up from his drink as he swirled it slowly in the glass. "You killed a few of my men, and honestly… I'm happy that you did. Those who can't last on my team don't really deserve to live, you know?"
He had such an unusual accent, with no drawl or roll of certain syllables or letters. It was smooth and it caused goosebumps to raise on Annabel's skin as Arthur hid her behind his body. She gripped her Lancaster tightly against her chest while Arthur placed a cautious hand on his revolver.
"Oh, there's no need for that." He waved his hand at him, motioning him to sit down at the table. "Come. Sit with me. Let's have a chat, yes?"
Arthur didn't move from his position from the stairs, his empty hand behind him and holding Annabel's forearm tightly just in case he had to pull or push her out of harm's way.
But he never got the chance to do that.
Her arm was ripped from his grip and all he could think of was her, to keep her safe and from harm's way.
But she had a cloth over her mouth and she struggled for a moment before her knees gave out from under her and her arms dangled at her side.
All he could do was grit his teeth; snarling at the men who dragged her away and into the hotel. He made an internal promise to kill anyone who laid their grimy hands on her as he watched the door slowly close with a soft click.
"Come. Sit." He heard the man pour him a glass of whiskey, "We don't have anything to distract us anymore, and it's late. Let the pretty woman sleep and have a drink with me."
Arthur was hesitant; slowly moving over to the wooden chair and sitting down. He realized then how sore he was from riding for so long, and just how many people were around him with guns in their arms.
He sat across from the man, who started to light a cigarette, and noticed more about the man's face as it was softly illuminated by the small flames light.
"You were the man from Blackwater." Arthur mumbled, bringing the glass to his lips and slamming the small amount of liquor back. It was cheap whiskey, probably the best you can get from this town.
"Yeah, that was me." He chuckled softly, blowing smoke from his nose and taking a sip from his glass. "She's quite the woman, you know. All curves, soft voice, small, and smart." He filled his glass once more, and poured Arthur another. "You got lucky. Not only a doctor, but the daughter of a Miller. He's quite the legend."
Arthur stayed quiet, but didn't refuse the drink that was poured for him. He started to feel a weird cramp within his stomach, but tried to ignore it.
"You can't deny she's a pretty one, and I'm sorry that I had to lay my hands on her back at Blackwater. I had to get something for the boss."
Arthur started to cough, and he leaned over the table with tunnel vision. He gritted his teeth, snarling at him as he tried to get up from his chair only to land harshly on the ground.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan. I truly am. But it looks like your time has come to an end."
Arthur groaned as he tried so hard to not succumb to the drugs within his system, but he was so tired that all he could so was let it take over.
"Take him somewhere, grab the doctor woman, and let's go."
"But, Sir –,"
"Please, don't argue with me." A sigh, "Grab the woman, and leave Arthur. That's an order."
.-.-.
Arthur had woken up cold and damp, with his mare pulling at his hair with her teeth.
Which hurt.
A lot.
He didn't really move from his position in the mud and snow until he realized that there was another horse pulling at his hair.
A horse without a rider.
Anna.
He shot up from his position, not caring for a moment that his vertigo and dizziness made his movements choppy and uncoordinated.
She was gone.
They had taken her, and she was gone and in the hands of some fucking psychopath.
Oh, lord have mercy on this man's soul because Arthur fucking Morgan was going to put a bullet in his head.
Annabel felt groggy, and sore, and bitterly cold.
He throat hurt like hell, and breathing in made her cough and spit up something bitter and metallic.
Was it blood?
She didn't remember blood tasting so bitter and warm, but she couldn't see what the color was in the dark room she was stuck in.
Chains rustled and as she moved her head to look around, and she realized that everything was upside down.
She also realized that she was as naked as the day she was born, as she looked up at the ceiling and the dark brick walls.
Annabel huffed, trying to raise her arms up (down…?) but the burning on her wrists and the heavy chains that were attached to them kept her from doing so.
She was alone, and cold, and she could feel herself growing dizzy from the rush of blood to her head.
"Flagstaff is far enough from him that he wouldn't know where she is."
"I don't know David…" it was a woman, and god she sounded familiar. "It's not that far from Winona, I feel like we should wrap it up here and move somewhere else until you get your fix.
"I don't want to move on just yet, so I'm not going to." There was a moment of silence; and maybe it was actually hesitation. "But… be prepared to move suddenly. Just in case."
"Yes sir."
There was a moment of silence before the sound of a lock being clicked open resounded within the room.
The door opened, and light flooded it and for a moment Annabel thought it might be the stairwell to Heaven. And she was almost thankful that maybe… just maybe… she was dead and she could finally rest her weary head.
But than a demon walked down the steps, and she knew it wasn't real.
"You're finally awake." She huffed, and turned her head away from him. There was nothing else for her to really do other than that. "Oh, don't be so bashful, Darlin…"
She kept silent; her glare standing steady at him.
"So, not bashful. Just angry." He sat himself across from her, staring at her up and down with a tempting smile.
"What do you want?" she snapped at him, and she jerked her arms against her chains with a wince.
"I used to study psychology overseas." He chuckled, ignoring her glares and seething annoyance, "I have always had a peaked interest in it, but I ended up learning a lot about myself while over in college."
"Does it look like I care?" she snapped at him, and tried to turn around to face away from him. She heard him growl like some feral animal and for a moment in time; she was terrified.
He grabbed her by the neck, then by the hair and jerked her around so she was looking at him.
"Don't fucking interrupt me when I'm talking, it's extremely rude."
She shivered and she didn't know if it was from fear or from the cold, but it was involuntary.
"Fuck you." She spat at him, her blood boiling and her words leaving her snarling back at him. Annabel was afraid of him and the power he held over her in this very moment, but that didn't stop her from baring her teeth at him and showing him the power she could hold.
If she wasn't hanging upside down, naked, and in a cold and damp cellar.
He smirked at her; letting her go with a small chuckle.
Before punching her.
Over.
And Over.
"Don't talk back, Darlin." She was gasping for air at this point, coughing and wheezing for air as blood ran from her nose into her mouth. She gagged and hacked it all up, but it kept coming and she was sure that her nose was broken from the beatings with how her eyes watered up.
"I'll be back for you… You and I have a lot to talk about."
Then she was left in the dark.
She felt herself start to disassociate, and she only thought that because of what she read years and years ago.
The hours and days that passed her felt like seconds and minutes.
She hadn't eaten, but her stomach never growled.
She hadn't had water, but she never felt dehydrated.
Annabel figured she was slowly rotting away but she couldn't feel a thing.
She couldn't hear a thing, either.
She couldn't hear the gunshots that rang out in the crisp air, or the frightened screaming of men as they started to fall like flies, or Arthur's angry cursing and yells as he continues to kill the men one by one by one.
But when the muffled shots and yells fell to silence and the cellar door was opened; everything came flashing back to her.
The punches, the cold air, the small moment of accepting death.
Tears started to fall silently as Arthur's footsteps fell hard against the wooden staircase.
He didn't seem to hesitate getting her down – awkwardly – and setting her slowly into the chair.
Everything was a blur for her as she stared at Arthur, but heard nothing but her own rushing blood and thrumming pulse in her ears.
The cold seemed to go away as Arthur shrugged his thick winter coat off and wrapped her in it.
With how small she was compared to him; she practically swam in that roughed up, blue coat. But it was warm, and it was familiar so she let the smell of musk and cigarette that was stuck within the wool of the collar take her.
She barely heard Arthur's voice, but she saw his lips move; beckoning and calling for her in that gruff voice of his.
She let him guide her out into the cold, her bare feet digging into the uneven, frozen mud. Her toes curled from the cold, and her eyes teared up as the light from the sun burned.
She noticed the forests. The thick redwood forests, the sound of the birds that chirped and screamed into the howling winds. The rustling of little animals that ran around the forests ground. The elk; the deer; the wolves and the bears.
"We made it."
"What?"
"Were in Flagstaff."
I'm debating on posting a new story but I really don't know.
It was gonna be a modern AU RDR2 story but I have a little bit more research to do sooooo.
Let me know though, I have a few chapters written up already.