Chapter Eight.

Elisha's POV *

"You're too close to my eye." I whine jerking my head away, pulling the already sewed thread tighter whilst squeezing my eyes shut.

Dakota sighs heavily, "If you hadn't noticed, the cut is above your eye and if you don't stay still I am going to poke your eye out just to make a point." She threatens as he re-pinches the skin either side of the cut above my eyebrow before suturing it together in neat strokes. She weaves the needle painlessly through my numb skin whilst gently dabbing the little blood that seeps out with a small cloth.

I keep my right eye shut as Dakota stitches above it leaving my left eye to keep a look out for a wandering Richard but luckily the figure who emerged from outside the cell was not Richard, instead it was Pharrell's muscular limbed body drinking carefully from a steaming metal mug. She took one long and hard look at my face before tutting and shaking his head.

"You look like hell," he remarks breezily, "What happened?"

I raised my eyebrows at his comments and stupid question only to receive a gentle slap from Dakota on the shoulder, "Wyclef." I replied.

Pharrell's face erupted with mockery shock, "The newbie? Ouch, where is he now?" he ask.

A small chuckle releases itself from my lips," In the first stage of digestion in a Hell Hounds stomach." I tell him.

"They caught him?" Pharrell asks taking a seat on the metal bench beside the doorway.

Dakota releases a high-pitched chuckle of her own, "Oh no, Hell Hounds had nothing to do with his death, isn't that right Elisha?"

I grit my teeth as Pharrell's mouth fell open in a real shock. "You ghosted him?" he asks.

My body reacted in a half-hearted shrug, "He deserved it."

"Why'd he attack you any ways? Cannot image you giving him any grief." Dakota asks. "All finished." she then announces no shy of a second later pulling away from my head.

I smile at her whilst tracing the tips of my fingers along the top of the stitches, "Thank you." I say gratefully before turning back to Pharrell, "And he wanted to know why I have eyes like I do."

Pharrell smiled inwardly flashing us a glimpse of his white teeth, "Wouldn't we all like to know the answer to that," he chuckles light-heartedly but my body felt strangely tensed by his comical answer.

I stand up wobbly legged from the chair and paced over at a reasonable speed over to the back of the cell where Dakota stood waiting by an old metal trunk that is tented with small chunks missing, holding out a thin looking fabric jumper.

"Change into this." She commands.

I strip off my ripped top – aware of Pharrell's hawk-like eyes focused on my bare back – and pulled on the substitute top given to me by Dakota. As I yanked the hem of the item of clothing down my body whilst slipping my arms into the correct holes I realised the jumper was actually a half-sleeve top that due to the difference in mine and Dakota's torso size, was too small for me so it exposed a small section of my stomach but I was just thankful to be out of my blood stained; ripped shirt.

"Did you guys get a look of the new inmate?!" Pharrell's chuckles loudly with a sense of over excitement, "It was Riddick!"

My heart leaps to my throat, I turned to Dakota who's skin was pale with nerves.

"The Riddick?" she asks.

My heart leaps into the chattering space between my teeth as Dakota's voice oozes with familiarization at the mention of his name and my stomach twists with how freely she says his name. How does she know him?

"How do you know him?" I ask in a desperate attempt to keep my voice level and not to choke.

Dakota raises an eyebrow with her face portraying a teasing expression, "I've met him before..." she trails off.

Pharrell stand up like an animal, "Was he a...customer?" he asks, his silver-tongued voice was no more than a whisper, his lips were situated dangerously close to Dakota's ear. My voice was caught in my throat blocking my airways.

In reply to Pharrell's teasing manor, Dakota licks her lips and turns to face him, their noses graze each other gently and I suddenly feel awkward and like a third-wheel but my postponed movement was all done to the unanswered question lingering in the air of the cell.

"He was a customer." Dakota admitted.

I think I am going to be sick.

Pharrell opens his mouth – which is curled up in a smile – to speak but Dakota smiles wickedly and speaks before he does, "But that was a long, long time ago..."

my body is frozen stiff like a statue, sickness creeps in and out of my gut as I stare at Dakota like Sybil stared at Richard, ice for eyes as she laughs off Pharrell like he is no more than a silly nerdy boy with a crush on the most popular girl in school. Like he is no more than dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

"You are bound to each other." a feminine voice whispers through my mind, rattling against my skull awkwardly.

"Elisha..." a distant voice called snapping me back to reality allowing my brain to realise the blurry voice was Dakota's thickly accented voice. "Are you okay?"

You mean aside from the overwhelming urge to vomit? "I'm okay." I reply breaking my aimless stare at them.

She raises an eyebrow in perfect unison with Pharrell, "Good..." she mumbles as she heads towards the rusting cell door, "I'm gonna go get some tea...or soup...or whatever their giving out..." she trails off in deep thought about the dinning area, "Want anything?" she offers after a minute of silence.

I shake my head and retake the seat leant up against the wall, then she leaves giving my a lingering gaze of worry.

"How do you know him?" Pharrell asks me once we couldn't hear Dakota's footsteps anymore.

I stare down at my bruised knuckles, "I don't." I reply defensively, too defensively.

Pharrell gets up from the metal bench he appears to comfy on, grips the front two legs and pulls the chair bearing my weight across the stone floor without a single problem. He placed the chair in front of the bench close enough so the front of the chair and the sharp uneven edge of the bench were touching. Pharrell leans in, his blue eyes looked even more crystal like close up, his skin was blemished and glistened with sweat.

Pharrell raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure? Your expression and attitude towards Dakota changed instantly."

I shrug, "I'm just surprised that's all." I lie.

He scoffs, "You knew Dakota was a whore, you never seemed bothered about the men before, until this one man was mentioned."

"I...I – "

Failure to reply only confirmed Pharrell's theory but also gave him space to act, he removes a small bandage wrapped around his left forearm to reveal the twenty-six small indentations of my teeth marks healing gradually into his tanned flesh.

"You've changed since he was lowered into this prison." He whispers, leaning in closer to me, "He is a passed boyfriend?"

I roll my eyes with a smile, "No," I whisper back.

Pharrell's fingertips gently traces my cheekbones leaving a lingering tingle on my skin as he traces every scar and blemish apparent on my face, his clear blue eyes never leave mine making a shiver accelerate up and down my spin. He traces his left hand along my jawline and off the tip of my chin whereas his right continues up the curve of my chin to the corner of my mouth. My lips absorb any moisture that remained on the surface in a nervous panic, Pharrell drags the level edges of his teeth along the surface of his bottom lip as he glides his thumb over my dry bottom lip. I attempt to swallow the hard lump that had formed in my throat but it remained stuck making breathing more difficult, Pharrell removes his thumb from my lip but not from my face giving my a quick free second to glide my rough tongue over my lips wetting them slightly, my stomach twisted and knotted as his dominating hands clutch my face in a gentle manor and tilt my head upwards slightly to face him better. He looks down at my lips and smiles slightly, almost evilly.

"Close your eyes..." he tell me softly.

I hesitate for a moment but then obey him, I push the thoughts of Richard – Riddick – away with the firm belief that he wasn't thinking off me when he fucked Dakota, only to return and believe that because some transparent being tells us we are bound to each other, it is true and he as some Furyan claim over me.

I am so deep in hateful thoughts about Riddick I am not even aware Pharrell's soft lips have met mine already, he is surprisingly gentle as he lips parted to deepen the kiss but as he does, a searing pain burst through my brain whipping against my skull, Pharrell yells with pain breaking the kiss darting backwards away from me. I stand up too quickly for me to keep my balance knocking the chair backwards as the screeching pain rattles through my skull, I crumble down to the ground like a small child trying to above a slap from its parent.

"BOUND TO EACH OTHER...NO ONE ELSE." the high-pitched voice screamed with blood boiling anger. My skin begins to burn with the heat of her fury.

My skin itches with excruciating painful licks of pain. My screams echo through the prisons interior and it wasn't long until Dakota was hunched over me gripping my shoulders only making the pain in that area worsen, her voice becomes disoriented as the corners of my vision goes black and blurry. Pharrell's yelps are in synchronisation with mine and it isn't long until she gives up with yelling at me and tries to help Pharrell who is not in any better condition.

Face stare at us but no one helps, they watch us with black soulless eyes as I revel in the pain brought on by an act of revenge looking back on it, aside from the searing pain my body is twitching and jerking about from, the kiss was not worth it; I feel foolish, childish and I now know my devotion to him now, what I must do.

Almost like a calling, I hear a deep voice yell for the crowd to move as yelps of pain begin to burst free from the crowd of inmates. Dakota swivels around on her heels with disbelief painted all over her face as he doesn't even acknowledge her.

My eyelids flutter and twitch as the pain reaches my eyes, my teeth clench together with such force I fear they may break but I don't care, anything for the pain to stop. Riddick's large hands grip my face in the same manor that Pharrell had, gentle with no real force; as he does the pain begins to retract. His touch ices away the burning pain from my face and like the ripple on the surface of the water, the pain gentle begins to retract from my limps.

"Elisha?" his voice breaks the silence barrier the pain had created.

I breath heavily as my chest relaxes allowing my lungs to expand without trouble, my heart felt as if it had shrunk to its original size, pumping correctly to push much needed oxygen to my stiff limbs but I couldn't move, I was numb. Although my vision was greatly impaired, I lifted my lids to look at the blurred mess that was Riddick's face, his glowing eyes like beacons. I groan what was meant to be a thank you but I am completely oblivious to the noise that is projected from me instead.

Riddick released a sigh of what sounded like relief as I made whatever noise my body released which sounded more like a dying Hell Hound than a thank you. He hooks his muscular arm beneath my knees and the other around the middle of my back beneath my arms, I clutch onto him around the neck with whatever strength I can muster from my sleepy limbs.

"It's okay," he assures me as my body squirms unintentionally.

Pharrell's yells of pain have stopped also but I do not get a glimpse of him as Riddick carries me from the cell and through the crowd. My head rests deliberately on his chest, my ear perfectly situated on the section of his chest over his heart. The bones of his ribcage rattles against the cartilage and soft tissue that makes up my ear.

The dim lights of the slam walkways slowly fade passed, my eyelids begin to collapse in on myself as my limbs refuse to fight against the tiredness. Riddick hushes my whimpers that pass my lips without much awareness.

"You're okay. You can sleep." Riddick tells me as his arms tighten around my body as he carries me like a child.

Staring up at the rocky ceiling, large dark patches begin to blotch out the artificial light. And soon, the light is no longer existent as my upper eyelid fell to meet my lower lashes indulging my weak limbed body in a deep sleep.

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