The Thunder Strikes Night

Chapter 19

(A/N) hey guys just one more chapter after this :o )

Chapter 19

I braced for it. I waited for the burning of the metal to my bone, the searing of a bruise beginning to form under my skin. I didn’t feel it. As my senses returned to me, I saw the pole at my feet not in the hands of my attacker. I heard a struggle a few feet away and knew Dylan was in trouble. Alberheim had him pinned to the wall, with a boney forearm pressed tightly to his neck. Gasping for breath, he tugged and pulled at the arm over him but with no success.

Clutching the pole, I clambered to feet and charged to Alberheim, enraged as to how he treated us, what he was doing, everything about him. Raising the pole high, I hammered a painful blow to Alberheim’s head as a light trickle of red oozed down his neck. Dylan spluttered violently for his new-found breath, but I pulled him behind me, away from harm.

Alberheim, whose back was towards me, slowly turned to face me.  He had a slight look of confusion mixed with a heavy angry expression. Feeling threatened, I swung the pole down on him again. And again. And again. Until he lay limp on the floor with several bruises littered across his face, and a ruby red pool soaking into his slicked hair.

For the moment, it was almost silent. The sirens had deafened us and became muffled and distant. All we could hear now were the rugged breaths from Dylan and me and his mothers’ rare tear. I looked at the scene around me.

The control panels outlining the room were destroyed, with only a blinking red light here and there showing signs of life. Wires hung around them as sparks still flared and jumped towards us. The cage that previously held Dylan’s parents also had a flickering white light in the top. As I shifted my gaze, I saw the two slabs me and Dylan were laid on, the shackles and piercing light made me look away instantly. Dylan’s father was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he questioned his loyalties, or cowardice took over.

Then, as if I’d forgotten, I found Alberheim still lying on the cold ground. Not a muscle had moved. I didn’t care whether he was dead, but the idea of someone dying at my hand frightened me, even if it was his life or my own.

All this chaos, caused by curiosity.

I heard a shuffling of feet from Dylan behind me, casting my eyes away from the villain in front of me. His jacket was twisted slightly, and one side hung down loosely around his elbow, revealing the red checked inside of his denim jacket. His head lay low, staring down at his scuffed shoes as his knees began to shake.

Slowly, I treaded towards him, so not as to frighten him or startle him from his trance. I gently lifted his chin with my finger and wiped away a stray tear that had fallen down his cheek.  Meeting his eyes, I took his hands in mine and gave them a small tug. He blinked quickly and took a deep breath, as if showing me he was still with me. As I eyed briefly towards his mother still bundled on the floor crying quietly, he edged over to assist her to her feet.

Though we all seemed to be alright, we weren’t in the clear yet. Many of Alberheim’s men could enter and attack us at any minute, or our captor Alberheim could gain consciousness.  Though we couldn’t be sure, I wasn’t ready to risk it, and frankly I was too weak and tired to fend off any more of his thugs.

I was, however, rather interested in a thick brown file, similar to the one in Dylan’s kitchen, slotted in a locked draw of a broken control panel. Somehow, the padlock and in fact the whole draw had been destroyed during the attacks, so I was free to take it. I shoved the folder down my back between my belt and underside of my shirt, then covered it with my jacket.

Hastily, I crunched over broken glass towards Dylan, who now had his mother to her feet. In the light now, I could see the full extent of how damaged she was after being here for too long. Slightly malnourished, the large clothes did nothing for her figure. She looked cold and broken, like a child’s tattered doll beyond its use. Her complexion was pale, almost as white as her hanging greased hair.

As I helped to stable her to her feet, Dylan carefully slipped off his jacket and hung it over her weak shoulders. We exchanged small smiles. I understood he probably didn’t want me seeing his mother in this condition, but I’m sure what worried him more was how she had reached this condition anyway.  Deep lines of worry bored into his forehead.

We clutched her tight as neither of us said a word. I gently gripped her shoulders for support, but I felt the light touch of a hand over mine. As Dylan looked away, the lines across his forehead seemed to ease.  We squinted as we prepared for the startle of sunlight to enter our eyes. 

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short and sweet <3

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