Caught

12.

I burst into Shira's cell and slammed the door behind me so hard it almost fell out of its frame. The prisoner was sitting on his bed, a book in his hand, reading. He smiled when he saw me and walked towards me. With a few quick steps I reached him and my fist hit him square in the face.

He surely wasn't expecting it.

"You son of a bitch!" I shouted at him in a blinding fury.

Shira staggered, but didn't fall. He wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand and looked at me in confusion.

"What...?"

He didn't get any further because my second blow hit him. This time in the stomach.

Shira recovered in a flash, stepping back gracefully and avoiding my next attack.

"Taira? What's wrong?" he wanted to know, but even a look at his perfect face, which seemed younger than ever, didn't soften me this time.

He seemed confused and a little hurt, under normal circumstances I might have hesitated, but now I was driven by pure hatred.

I swung my fist at him again, but he caught my arm and pushed me against the wall.

"Stop it!" he shouted, but I ignored him.

I wanted to hurt the bastard.

I wanted to see him writhe in pain.

I wanted him to feel as miserable as I did now.

My next punch hit him in the shoulder, the second one barely missed its mark. Seizing the opportunity, Shira swiftly straddled my legs. I crashed to the floor, and in an instant, the black-haired man was on top of me. His hands gripped my wrists tightly, forcing them above my head.

"Stop it and tell me what's going on," Shira repeated.

Blood was still pouring from his torn lip, and it was even starting to swell. And I wished I could hurt him more.

"Let me go," I hissed hatefully, trying with all my might to shake him off me.

Releasing my right hand, I jabbed my fingers directly into Shira's face. He ducked, but I managed to push him off me.

I rolled to the side, my eyes never leaving the black-haired prisoner. He stood there, watching me like a predator its prey.

I didn't know when or how, but suddenly four men with guns appeared in the cell. Our skirmish attracted the attention of the guards.

"Commander Imara," one of them addressed me.

"Handcuff him," I ordered, not looking away from those blue-grey eyes. Shira didn't move a muscle and let the guards put the cuffs on, even the horrible collar.

I watched in silence as they threw him unceremoniously onto the bed and chained him to the wall like a wild animal. I thought the sight would bring me satisfaction, or perhaps relief, but instead I felt only a growing coldness and emptiness.

"Anything else, Commander?" the voice of one of the soldiers snapped me out of my misery.

"That's all," I replied hollowly. "You may go."

They obeyed.

I did not find the will to leave the cell either. I wished to smash Shira's perfect face to a bloody pulp. I could barely control myself.

"I hope they shoot you down like a rabid dog," I hissed hatefully, finally getting up and walking towards the door.

"Taira!"

Something in the voice made me turn around.

Shira was staring at me with an unspoken question in his eyes. Confused, disappointed, at loss.