Chapter Thirteen: Two Shots, Two People
Hours felt like days. Days felt like years, and weeks felt like centuries. School did not distract the boy's mind. Telly didn't rot it. There were no friends for him to seek comfort in and no toys to please him. His days went slow and meaningless. Gone was the child who giggled at the table at seeing his parents kiss, or chastise them when they didn't. Gone was the child who played until the late hours of evening. What was left behind was a boy with empty eyes and an empty heart. A shell. The woman and men who spoke calmly to him, asking gentle questions. In return, they earned nothing but a blank stare. His parents were plaque with regret, wishing they hadn't popped the protective bubble he had been concealed within, leaving him raw and bare to the harsh world around him.
The room was dark. Somehow, it seemed darker and colder. Goosebumps rose up along the back of his neck. Alex was gone. He was gone, out there, looking for his Daddy and Papa. Had he found them? Was he lost? What would Mr. Moriarty do?
He glanced around and whimpered, pressing his face into his knees. "Daddy…" He sobbed, tears wetting the stained, dirtied, and disgusting trousers.
He wanted nothing more than to go home.
The door flung open a few minutes later, with Mr. Moriarty standing in the doorway.
"Where is he?" He snapped, rushing forwards to seize his shoulders. "Where. Is. He?" He shook Hamish with each word, causing the small head to loll back on his shoulders, and screams to tare from his throat.
A hand came harshly across his face and he struggled in his arms, feet kicking. The man's face was red, eyes bulging with anger. He tossed Hamish against the wall roughly, causing a gash to open along his forehead. He took deep, supposedly calming breaths through his mouth. "If…you do not tell me where my son is in three seconds…I will BURN YOU…!" He shouted.
All that was heard in the silence that remained was the boy's gross sobbing. Mr. Moriarty's face changed, and he signalled to Tiger, who advanced quickly and angrily. The boy's eyes went wide and he struggled to flee (though the room was spinning-not good), but Tiger ensnared him with his large paws, tugging the chain out of the wall in the process.
Well at least he wasn't bound anymore.
The boy was then tossed over his shoulder, screaming and struggling. But a quick elbow to the temple not only silenced him, it cause him to sleep for a very, very long time.
Where was the point? What was the reason, the excuse for him to die? After all the good that the boy had done, why was it him who had to be taken? There was no right in it, none. No justice. An innocent was taken all because an act of heroism, an attempt to save a friend. He succeeded, but for an idiotic price. Why?…why, out of hundreds of horrible people, why him? What compelled him to do such a thing? To rush forwards and….It wasn't for the fame, the publicity. Not because they had thought it completely through; they hadn't…He was thankful, the other boy was. Thankful he could keep living, breathing. His only regret was being unable to say to him just how thankful he was. Never saying goodbye and just how much he really loved him.
Hamish woke up slowly. His back was being rubbed, and there was someone gently calling his name. His Papa…? Papa always did that when he slept too long, and it was time to "get up and not waste the day".
When his eyes opened, he found that was not the case at all. He was in a girl's arms, her ashy hair falling from the bun pinned to the top of her head. "You're alright…you're fine…" She cooed softly, but was cut off by a deeper voice. "Elle, he's awake." It was a boy's voice, and he turned his throbbing his head to see a young boy. Not a little boy, but he was not a big boy like Daddy or Papa. He whimpered, looking around for Mr. Moriarty and Tiger. If the girl and boy were here, their captors wouldn't be far behind.
"They're gone," the boy promised. "They threw you in here and left." He moved closer, lifting his hand to try and touch the cuts over his body. "Can I look? I wont hurt you. I'm in Uni, and am going to be a doctor. Cool, hm? I'll help make people better, bud. Can I see? I wont hurt, promise." The girl gave the boy a smile, like the one's his Daddy gave his Papa. One that was purely adoration and love.
Hamish didn't answer. He simply pressed his face into the girl's chest and started to sob.
The others seemed puzzled at his reactions and lost as what to do. So they both took turns coddling to him, rocking, swaying, talking, and speaking empty promises as an attempt to soothe him. What they didn't know was that every word they spoke, every hurt they kissed better, only caused him more pain then they meant to give. And he didn't dare tell them what it meant if Mr. Moriarty came back, what fate awaited them.
They didn't wait long. He was in the boy's arms, and he was telling him stories about how the police caught bad guys, and how they just had to wait for them to have a slip up. It wouldn't be long, and Almir (he'd learned that was the boy's name. It meant prince.) and Ella would protect him if something went bad.
They never said if it turned into a pandemonium.
Tiger and Mr. Moriarty came bursting in, and Hamish screamed, clinging to Almir, fingers digging into the dark skin. Both of the older captives took a defensive stance, but Tiger merely grabbed a hold of the Elle's hair, tugging her face into his knee. She cried out in pain, blood starting to flow from her nose. Almir shouted out to her, rushing to her side.
The sniper wrenched the hysterical Hamish from his arms, and the boy did his best to clutch to the soon-to become doctor, leaving scratches behind in his attempt.
All of them were brought to the to bright room where the hurt's happened. The girl was forced on to the table, and oddly, Hamish was placed in Almir's arms. But Almir was sitting in a not comfy chair, a gun pressed to his head.
Mr. Moriarty pulled out a slim mobile that he typed easily on, and the sound of a dial tone rung much to loudly through the room. A card with words Hamish couldn't make out was pushed in front of her. "Read." He growled.
"Suck it."
The dial tone faded and the man's brow lifted slightly, and he nodded to Sebastian, who quickly grabbed her head, slamming it down against the table and taking a knife, sliding it down her arm. Mr. Moriarty sighed. "I'm afraid you'd like that to much. Shall we try again?"
It took a total of four more tries to get her to speak. Her hair was cut, and her head forced under water for nearly a minute, repeatedly. Despite Almir's desperate shouting, she wouldn't cave.
"I'll do it!" She screamed as Sebastian held a lighter beneath what was left of her hair, close enough to start to singe it, burning her scalp.
Mr. Moriarty grinned, his evil, wolfish grin, and the cards were held out again.
The dial tone ended, and Elle started to read, sobbing, her voice cracking and breaking. "Fingers beat five, three times. Fingers beat five, three times. Save us, Save us…"
There was silence, and then there was a cleared throat, a familiar voice beginning to speak, and Hamish's eyes widened. "Where are you? Can you tell us your location?"
Cold. There was cold nuzzling the back of Hamish's neck, though it was hard, Hamish tried to see what it was, but it pushed harder on his skin and made him keep his head straight. By the girl's widened eyes, it wasn't good.
"Fingers beat five, three times. Fingers beat five, three times. Save us, save us…"
Another voice, a new voice. One that made Hamish begin to sob.
"What does that mean?" His Papa demanded, followed by a loud crash. "It's always that! What is it? How the fucking hell are we suppose to save our damn son if we don't even know what the hell that means?!"
Uh-oh. Papa was mad. Papa was scared. He never said bad words. Never-ever. And he said lots of bad words. He was really scared.
Elle was continuing, her sobs growing worse. "M-midnight. At midnight, it all ends. It goes away. W-w-we go away." Her voice cracked, and she dissolved into hysterical sobs. "Oh God-save us!"
Hamish took his chance. "Daddy! Papa! Help, help, Mr. Moriarty is hurting and we're hiding in the dark building-"
There was beep, ending the call.
Two blasts. Quick. One went through the temple of Elle, causing her hair to turn crimson, and dribbled down her face. Next, was for Almir, who slumped forwards, arms going limp around him. Two blasts, two people. Two teens. A third left over. Two, two, two, three.
The night was cold and dark. The rain had long but stopped, the stars in the sky spelling out constellations and echoing the sadness felt bellow. The small boy glanced up, staring outside as he pushed his train on his track, feint music playing in the background. Bouquets of flowers covered the small table, with hearts full of chocolate and other candies, some already eaten. They were left there for a child, and a mourning family, who's grief hung over them like a non-retreating cloud.
A/N: Okay, so the update wasn't Thursday. Sue me. But still, this is longest chapter we've had. And I hope it's good. Thank you for your support and wonderful reviews. I more than definitely wouldn't have continued this without all your kind words and encouragement. I left some more hints for you...if only you could figure them out ;) Haha, I'm sure you clever ducks have already figured out the ending but still-Allons-y!