Roxton immediately raced over to his friend.
'Malone.'
Ned stared at them, terrified. When Roxton reached for him, he whimpered and drew back like a scared animal.
'It's me, Roxton,' he reached out for the younger man again, only to have him press back, trembling. 'I'm not going to hurt you Ned.'
Malone still stared at him in the dim light, uncomprehending and frightened. He had propped himself up against the wall. His arms were wrapped tight around his chest and shoulders, legs drawn up to his stomach.
'I'm not going to hurt you,' Roxton touched his cheek, and he flinched violently, squeezing his eyes shut. John looked up at Marguerite, frustrated.
'He's afraid of me,' the despair in his voice was evident.
'Maybe it's because you're a male, like the traders. I don't think it's anything personal,' she reassured Roxton with a smile. She crouched down and shifted closer to Malone. Passing the torch to Roxton, she knelt next to the young reporter.
'Ned,' she stroked his wet hair. Her soft, feminine touch seemed to pacify him, and he opened his eyes, or at least tried to. His left eye was swollen shut.
'Everything's all right now. No one's going to hurt you anymore.'
A lone tear ran down his face, and his tremors increased.
'It's all right now Ned,' she soothed.
Malone's body shook and his teeth started to chatter. It was then that they realised he had been stripped of his shirt, and his pants had been flayed down to the bare essential.
Which brought them to the more sickening realization that his body was crossed with whip-marks, some of which still bled freely. He was soaked in blood and sweat.
Roxton undid his vest and covered the shivering man. Malone jerked slightly when he approached, but Marguerite's voice kept him calm.
'We have to get him out of here,' Marguerite was starting to lose her nerve. The anxiety had finally gotten to her.
'Well, you can't carry him. And he's in no shape to walk,' Roxton pointed out.
'Then you have to carry him, that's the only option we have.'
'He won't let me near him! I told you, he's afraid of me.'
'Try, John,' she glared at him. 'Try! It's our only way of getting him out.'
John Roxton steeled himself for Malone's reaction to him. He placed the torch in Marguerite's free hand, and in one swift move, gathered Ned in his arms. He cried out and struggled, but he was weak, and Roxton easily clung to him.
'I'm not going to hurt you Ned, can't you understand?' Roxton stepped out of the cell, clutching a frantic Malone.
'I'm your friend Ned!' The young man stopped struggling, though his fear was still evident.
'Yes, your friend, I'm helping you,' Roxton said, relieved he had gotten him to understand.
The fear dissipated quickly and by the time they reached the stairs, Malone had wrapped his arms around Roxton's neck, his face buried in his shoulder.
The trust had been achieved.
'Malone.'
Ned stared at them, terrified. When Roxton reached for him, he whimpered and drew back like a scared animal.
'It's me, Roxton,' he reached out for the younger man again, only to have him press back, trembling. 'I'm not going to hurt you Ned.'
Malone still stared at him in the dim light, uncomprehending and frightened. He had propped himself up against the wall. His arms were wrapped tight around his chest and shoulders, legs drawn up to his stomach.
'I'm not going to hurt you,' Roxton touched his cheek, and he flinched violently, squeezing his eyes shut. John looked up at Marguerite, frustrated.
'He's afraid of me,' the despair in his voice was evident.
'Maybe it's because you're a male, like the traders. I don't think it's anything personal,' she reassured Roxton with a smile. She crouched down and shifted closer to Malone. Passing the torch to Roxton, she knelt next to the young reporter.
'Ned,' she stroked his wet hair. Her soft, feminine touch seemed to pacify him, and he opened his eyes, or at least tried to. His left eye was swollen shut.
'Everything's all right now. No one's going to hurt you anymore.'
A lone tear ran down his face, and his tremors increased.
'It's all right now Ned,' she soothed.
Malone's body shook and his teeth started to chatter. It was then that they realised he had been stripped of his shirt, and his pants had been flayed down to the bare essential.
Which brought them to the more sickening realization that his body was crossed with whip-marks, some of which still bled freely. He was soaked in blood and sweat.
Roxton undid his vest and covered the shivering man. Malone jerked slightly when he approached, but Marguerite's voice kept him calm.
'We have to get him out of here,' Marguerite was starting to lose her nerve. The anxiety had finally gotten to her.
'Well, you can't carry him. And he's in no shape to walk,' Roxton pointed out.
'Then you have to carry him, that's the only option we have.'
'He won't let me near him! I told you, he's afraid of me.'
'Try, John,' she glared at him. 'Try! It's our only way of getting him out.'
John Roxton steeled himself for Malone's reaction to him. He placed the torch in Marguerite's free hand, and in one swift move, gathered Ned in his arms. He cried out and struggled, but he was weak, and Roxton easily clung to him.
'I'm not going to hurt you Ned, can't you understand?' Roxton stepped out of the cell, clutching a frantic Malone.
'I'm your friend Ned!' The young man stopped struggling, though his fear was still evident.
'Yes, your friend, I'm helping you,' Roxton said, relieved he had gotten him to understand.
The fear dissipated quickly and by the time they reached the stairs, Malone had wrapped his arms around Roxton's neck, his face buried in his shoulder.
The trust had been achieved.