A/N: Apologies for the long delay - life has been very busy at the moment.
Ten
*Troi*
The sight came upon us so suddenly. We rounded the corner to see a figure huddled in the fetal position and sobbing, bound hand and foot. Blood oozed out of his forehead and shirt. His breathing was rapid, his face wincing in pain with each breath. The amount of suffering I sensed from him was initially overwhelming, and I had to steady myself.
But we knew instantly who it was.
"Wesley!" Beverly was in shock, her body trembling. Her breath hitched. "Oh, Wesley!"
At the sound of his mother's voice Wesley forced his head up, eyes widening with recognition. He began mumbling under the cloth around his mouth, obviously distressed. I sensed there was something he desperately needed to tell us.
Will scanned the area, nodding in confirmation. "We're clear." He began shuffling his way to Wesley, pausing each time the sound of gravel under his feet became too loud, all while Wesley continued to protest. I noticed one of his eyes was completely black.
The boy who agreed to help us was quicker than us, leaping from rock to rock almost instantaneously. He perched above Wesley on a ledge, eyes cautiously scanning around. Beverly took that as her cue, tiptoeing her way to her son, Will following close behind.
A tricorder scan of her patient caused a distressed look on Beverly's face. "He's got internal bleeding, four fractured ribs and a ruptured spleen," She turned to Will. "We haven't got time to untie him; we have to get him up now!"
Wesley mumbled in agony, while Will continued untying him. "Do what you can down here first."
Reluctantly Beverly obeyed, opening her box of supplies. As she pulled a hypospray out Wesley immediately flinched, squirming backwards.
"Hey - it's okay, it's a pain reliever," I said soothingly. Despite my words he continued to shake, his breath coming in hitches.
It was only then that I noticed the knife. The handle blended in with his pants, stained with crusty blood. It had been driven into the back of Wesley's left knee, far enough in to hide the blade.
"Beverly," I whispered. "You've missed something."
Before she could protest, I grabbed her hand and clasped it around the knife. The shock that emanated from Beverly almost overwhelmed me, with tears springing forth as she kept her grip. "What've they done to my baby?" Her voice was strained and wispy.
Wesley began mumbling, frantically jerking his head. I sensed a deep fear that was realised when a second knife was wrapped around my throat.
A voice hissed in my ear: "Welcome to hell."
