Chapter 9
Timothy’s POV
I stand up, as soon as the door opens and Danielle walks out of Bruening’s room. Her eyes are rimmed with red, and her nose is oddly sniffy. I walk straight past her, and into his room, where he sits wide awake. We’ve taken up the hobby of interrogating him throughout the day, as we head for our location. Wesley doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but we never listen to him. I walk over to the chair Danielle must’ve been using, and look into the worn, and wrinkled face.
“So Bruening, you got anything for me today?” I ask, knowing he’s unwilling to give anything up. I’m almost shocked, when he agrees to tell me something right off the bat.
“There’s something you should know” he says, and I look at him in utter shock. He smiles before, whispering so low that I can’t hear a single word of his sentence.
“What was that?” I say, and he tilts his head to face me, and a smile forms on his face again.
“I said, I bet you’re wondering how I made your sister cry aren’t you?” he repeats the question. Now that he mentions it, I’m quite interested in what he said.
“What did you say to her? Tried to torture her with Alex’s death?” I ask disgustedly, and he laughs out loud.
“No, although, I should remember that next time. Thank you Timothy my friend” he says, and anger boils inside me.
I have no idea why his statement pisses me off so badly, but I find myself on my feet with my arm raised in a threatening manner. He doesn’t even flinch. I do have to admit that under the circumstances, he is very calm, and collected.
“Did I anger you?” he asks, and sees it on my face, so he continues as if nothing had happened. “The reason I was able to make your dear sister cry was because I have installed fear in her mind. When I kept her as my pet, she was abused greatly.” He says, and I grow angry again.
“I’m not going to listen to this” I say, before standing up to leave. He senses my intentio because he continues, speaking more quickly now.
“She was very good in bed, you know.” He says with a smirk, and I snap. Everything in my line of vision turns red, and I whirl around in fury. I’m surprised to see that he actually cowers in my anger.
“You touched my sister?” I roar in his face, spit flying from my mouth. I don’t wait for an answer, I just start swinging.
My fist collides with the side of his face, and he cries out in pain, but nothing can stop me from releasing all my anger out on him. He raped my sister, and he calls himself a ruler. A ruler of a nation is supposed to care about the lives of his subjects, not make them miserable. I punch him again and again, until my fists are bleeding, and he’s looking up at me with a swollen face, full of shallow cuts. I hit him again, and hear something snap, and my hand is engulfed in pain.
The door slides open, and I am pulled off of him, but not willingly. I don’t even know whose arms are restraining me, but my legs are going to bruise them somewhere. I start convulsing angrily, trying to get away from their constricting arms, so I can beat his face in. Wesley runs into the room, after a few more minutes of me struggling. I’m not going to give up. I will kill him right now. I don’t care who I have to go through. I fling myself forward with all of my strength and my captor is thrown off his feet.
I waste no time, and jump on top of Bruening. He is crumpled to the ground, but his arms are still restrained by the hanging chains, so I know they’re being injured deeply by this attack. I elbow him in the face, before I start wailing on him once more. I’m pulled off again, and I see his face is completely swollen, and a nasty shade of purple. I want to do more damage, but these arms seem stronger. I begin to scream in anger, but it sounds more like I’ve gone insane, which I might have.
“Let me go!” I scream, but the arms only grow tighter around my torso. “He raped my sister!” I scream, tearing the back of my throat open, and choking on blood. The choking gives me even more adrenaline, and I g=fight against his arms. I recognize him, as Sean, but I’m not giving up. I can’t think rationally. All I want to do is kill Bruening. I don’t care about anything, or anyone else. Have I gone insane?
“Sedate him” Sean yells, and Wesley scrambles over to a cabinet, and starts fumbling through things, until he comes back with a needle. I’m thrashing around so ferociously by now that it takes Seth, Michael, and Sean to hold me still, while Wesley administers a sedative into my veins. I immediately feel tired, and my eyes begin to droop tiredly. My entire body sags, and Sean holds me up, as the last vestiges of consciousness leave my body, and I pass out in his arms.
Sean’s POV
“He’s killing Bruening!” Michael shouts from the hallway, and we all jump up at the same time. I knew it would be risky to let Timothy go in there by himself. Bruening has taken so much from Timothy, and Timothy can be neurotic at times. I run into the room, and see Seth attempting to restrain Timothy, and Bruening sagging to the floor with a bruised face. I dash over to the medical supplies, and administer some ointment on to my hand, so I can stop infection from spreading.
Before I can take a step towards Bruening, Timothy flings Seth off the ground, and runs back at Bruening. I’m pushed back in the process, and I stumble, struggling to regain balance. I run up behind Timothy, and wrap my arms tightly around him. He thrashes around wildly, and begins screaming at the top of his lungs. Did Bruening do something to him? This is not how he acts. I tighten my grip, as he assaults my shins, and thighs with kicks.
“Sedate him!” I shout at Wesley, who instantly runs to the medicine supplies. It feels like he takes an hour to retrieve a needle. He runs over to us, and tries to get Timothy still enough to give him the drug, but in the end Michael and Seth have to latch onto him, and hold him down, as well as me, so Wesley can give him the shot. As soon as the syringe is empty, I feel him relaxing. His body sags into me, and I have to hold him up. His limbs flop around, as if he were dead.
I make eye contact with Seth, and I don’t like what I see. I can tell he wants to be with Timothy, but there has never been any kind of evidence until now. The look he just gave Timothy was full of nothing but love. I hoist Timothy’s limp form into my arms, and carry him like a baby out of the room, and into our cool dark room. I lay him down gently in our bed, and climb in beside him. I want to be here, when he wakes up. He really has me worried. I hope he’s okay.
I lay there for a few minutes, just thinking about that look that Seth gave him. I understand that they went through a lot of stuff together, but he needs to know that Timothy is mine, and he can’t have him. I need to confront him, before the situation escalates any further. My eyes flutter closed, and I wrap my arms securely around Timothy, as if holding him will prevent Wesley and Seth from trying to steal him from me. I fall asleep, after that thought and all I’m aware of is that Timothy is in my arms.
