Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to Joss Stirling.
WARNING: Again, there are some descriptions of violence in this chapter though not as much as in Chapter 4 but if you don't want to read it, you can just skim it.
Anyway, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was on holiday in Ireland without Wi-Fi so that was quite a refreshing time :)
Chapter Five – Leah POV
„The thing is, my dear Miss Andersson" Abdul leans even closer and I can smell the alcohol on his breath so strongly I have to fight back gagging. "Your Victor Benedict works for our American friends in the FBI and we have recently found out that he is the leading and driving force behind an investigation that is working on 'uncovering' our little … business organization."
"What do you mean my Victor Benedict? I have never heard of him."
"Liar!"
His yell echoes through the cell, accompanied by the dull thud of my head being slammed against the concrete wall.
"We know exactly what your relationship to Mr Benedict is." Abdul, despite his pitiful appearance, manages to make himself seem impossibly terrifying.
I want to say that I have no idea what they're talking about but my head hurts so much that I can't even think of the right words to say. Instead, I shake my head ever so carefully. Another punch right in the gut.
"Are you telling us that you think we're the ones lying?" Aamir pulls back his fist again, this time hitting my shoulder so hard I hear a crack and stabbing pain shoots up to my brain. Again the light above flickers and I feel less weak.
"Aamir!" Abdul lays a perfectly manicured hand on his son-in-laws shoulder and pulls him back. "Violence is not the answer, son."
I manage a wheezy laugh at the irony but am quickly reprimanded by a knife carving another letter into my arm. However, I hardly feel anything. The first sign of death being close – complete numbness to physical pain.
"Listen, Miss Andersson. Our source, a very reliable one might I add, has let slip that you and Victor Benedict share a very special bond."
Bond? We've never even met. But again, my mouth refuses to cooperate.
"He's your soulfinder."
"What the hell are you talking about? What is a soulfinder?" The absurdity of his last sentence makes my brain work again for a short while.
Abdul throws a glance behind him, at a young man who has kept his head down for most of today's session. The man nods and quickly averts his eyes before they become fixed on my mangled body.
Abdul lets out a gasp and forces me to look at him by pulling back my hair.
"You really have no idea." It isn't a question.
I repress an eye roll and let out a groan as he lets go of my head so abruptly that it snaps back to my chest.
"Unbelievable!"
So, you've never done telepathy before either.
A voice, his voice … but his mouth didn't move. That isn't possible. No. NO. How… what is …
Judging by your shocked expression, I'm assuming the answer is no.
No, no, no. What is this? Some sick trick? How is he doing it?
His cold, brown eyes stare right into mine, as if … as if he was staring right into my soul.
I sense the freedom of my hands and feet as their restraints are cut open but I don't move. I can't. He…. He was speaking to me in my mind. That shit isn't possible. no, no, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening. But it is. And I can't stop my body from toppling out of the chair, onto the cold, blood-splattered floor. And for the first time since I was taken here, I give way to the darkness consuming me.
I awake from the icy water that is splashed on my face. I have no idea how long I've been out but I'm more concerned about the fact how badly my wounds are stinging from their first contact with water in days.
"Rise and shine, sweetheart. You're moving."
I shake my head to get the water out of my eyes and ears and twist my head to see who's talking. Aamir, Abdul's son-in-law, is pulling me by my hair and runs his hand along my front, clearly enjoying the way I shudder away in disgust.
"What a shame that Abdul won't let me enjoy you before you go."
"Go where?" I ask, trying to shake off the hand that is working its way down from my neck to my chest.
"You'll see, sweetheart."
He leads me out of the cell and starts tugging and pushing me into various hallways and tunnels, thankfully keeping his hands to himself as another guard, the youngest one I've seen here, joins us, a rifle against my back. As if I was in any fit state to fight now - they made sure of that.
Along the way, I have to stop and lean against a wall to puke out the bread I got for breakfast, though this time I become worried as chunks of blood accompany the pieces of bread.
"Get a move on, sweetheart. We don't want to be late on your big day."
Aamir turns one final corner and tugs me through a creaking, wooden door that opens into a courtyard of some sort.
The sun. The sky. I'd almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. On a podium in the middle of the yard stands large object covered by a dirty piece of loin cloth. Next to it, Abdul in what look like his best clothes, staring at me maliciously.
"Well, well, what have we here?" He holds out one hand, obviously to help me up onto the podium though I doubt that my shoulders can survive me lifting my arms. So two other guards grab me under my armpits, I have to smirk as they cringe at the dried sweat that has gathered there, and heave me up onto the podium, making me fall on my knees at Abdul's feet.
"See, my dear Miss Andersson, we have been watching you for a while now. My men have told me all about your … survival skills."
Oh, shit. I keep my head bowed on my knees to avoid the eye contact I know he wants.
"We took you because you are our connection to Victor Benedict – at least we thought so. So now, as we have all established that you truly have no idea about Savants and soulfinders, let alone Victor Benedict, you have proven to be completely useless to us now."
I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach because I know what's about to happen. I've heard the guards talk about it.
"Naturally, we cannot possibly let you go, so we have come up with a method of … execution you couldn't possibly survive. That rules out guns, electrocution, torture… Can you guess what it is?"
Now I raise my head and I know the look on my face is exactly what he wants to see.
"How can you make a game out of this?"
He ignores my question and gives a hand signal to three scantily-clad women on the other side of the massive machine-like object.
"You don't want to play? Well then, ladies, if you will."
The white sheet is pulled back swiftly to reveal a guillotine. I almost let out a laugh of relief but at the same time, a mix of emotion fill me up. A little voice in the back of my head whispers that this is what I wanted. I joined the army to be rid of parents, to eliminate myself before I get stuck in an asylum. Then the bigger voice just screams in protest. It is a scream so loud it fills up my mind, it stops all the junk flying around it and replaces it with a very graphic image of my head, rolling around this podium. I let the scream consume me, block out Abdul and Aamir's laughter. And then, I let the scream out of my mind and into the open.
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