"I bet you're wondering how we knew you were here?"

The man in the black boots knelt down in front of her so that she could see him if she craned her neck. She felt exposed, with her arms tied behind her and her legs strapped together, especially now that she could only see one of the men.

"We know all about you, Mrs Beauchamp. We know your name, where you live, where you work..."

He began, the glint of a smile twitching at the side of his mouth as he saw her flinch, and the wild look that bloomed behind her eyes as she blinked against the tears.

"And we know that as long as we have you, we can get whatever we like from those nurses of yours...

"What do you mean, whatever you like?"

She hissed, and he grinned and cast a glance to whoever it was on the other side of the bed.

"Morphine, Ketamine..."

He shrugged and looked back at her.

"What do you recommend?"

He touched his tongue to his top lip and his dark eyes glittered with amusement.

She looked away, back towards the door, back to Eliot. The cat had sat up and was now sat completely motionless by Eliot's body, not even the tip of his tail or his whiskers moved.

"If you don't let me see to him, he will die."

She spoke through gritted teeth, her throat so strained from the angle of her head that her voice barely sounded like her own.

He followed her gaze, looking over his shoulder.

"He'll be alright."

"He could be haemorrhaging, he could start fitting..."

She paused, the man seemed to have lost interest and was gesturing to the man behind her.

"If you don't let me help him then he WILL die, do you understand that?"

She raised her voice as much as she could, and the man in the boots sighed and looked back at her again.

"Alright...keep your knickers on."

He laughed, and she flinched. The words stung as much as if he had slapped her across the face. She began to feel the panic rise, and behind her back she tried to twist her wrists, willing the leather to give even the tiniest bit, just to give her some wriggle room, but there was nothing. The belt was wrapped so tightly about her wrists that her fingers were beginning to lose all feeling and felt eerily cold against her back.

"If you don't want me to help him, then at least let me tell you what to do?"

She begged, again she looked across at Eliot. She couldn't see in the dimness of the room to be able to work out whether or not he was breathing, all she could see was the glimmer of blood, how the light highlighted his cheek bone, his temple, and the straight line of his nose. If he died...if he was dead, then it would be her fault.

-.-

Thank you for the reviews, though I was alarmed to hear that some of you dread reading it ;) don't worry, it will get cheery again...

Out of interest, would you like to see Eliot alive or dead?! xxx