A World Together

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Stella P.O.V

Doubt is the first thing that snares me. Why would he help me? Why would he risk it? Surely such an act would only lead to his own execution. His friends upstairs don't seem like the forgiving type, and I don't think they would react very kindly to a betrayal. Confronted with this, Jacob only shakes his head.

"Because I don't agree with what they're doing, and I've stood by letting it happen for long enough," he says. Despite the conviction ringing in his voice and burning in his eyes, I still find myself apprehensive.

But what trick could he possibly be playing? I'm already tied up on a bed, defenseless and scared out of my mind. I have nothing else. There's no logical reason for him to be lying. Nothing for him to gain. Nothing that I can think of anyway.

This reminds me of Logan, and how he saved me by running down the infected that was chasing me. I said that was a miracle. And if a miracle can come in the form of a yellow Jeep, then maybe it can come in the form of a red-headed man, too.

There's no time to question him further because we hear the stream of urine end and the bathroom door opens shortly after. Jacob pushes himself away from me in a flash and dives into his bag, pulling out a packet of baby wipes. I'm just able to catch a glimpse of the packaging before he tears into it. Ultra-Soft. I must be getting the spa special today. He rips a handful out and hands a wad over to Rob, who looks down at them as if he didn't think he'd actually have to do any work. With a scowl he takes them anyway. Jacob stands aside while Rob leans in, smearing a wipe across my cheek and bringing it back to reveal the streak of brown grime it has left.

"Fucking filthy," he spits.

Now would be the ideal time to hit him over the head with something heavy, but Jacob doesn't do anything, he just stands aside watching. Why isn't he doing anything? Sure, Rob is bigger than him, but with the element of surprise Jacob should have no trouble knocking him out cold. Unless his promise to help me was nothing but a stint of bravery that has ebbed away now. But while the worry has left his eyes, the frown is still on his face and I can only take this as a good thing – because it's the only thing I have left to cling to.

This is when a thought hits me. Where's the gun? I look down at Rob's hands, both empty and occupied with pulling the leg of my jeans up.

"Jesus Christ you're hairy!" he says, letting the pant leg drop back down.

"I prefer the au natural look," I say.

He scowls and leans in to begin wiping my face again. But before he has a chance to touch me, I make a noise in the back of my throat and he has the good sense to pause at the sound. He doesn't pull away in time however, and a massive glob of spit finds itself in his right eye, dribbling down his cheek.

Stumbling back, he curses loudly, fat hands swiping at his face to get it all off of him. Vision impaired, now would be the perfect time to attack. Yet still, Jacob stands stiller than a statue, watching his accomplice but making no move to intervene. I want to shout, scream at him to do something, but I restrain myself because I know that will do no good. He's made no move to act and I can only assume – hope – that this is because he has his own plan.

Rob continues to shout expletives, more spit flying from his own mouth than what I managed to get on his face. Then he slaps me. My cheek burns with the hit and I can imagine the red mark it has probably left. But he isn't done with me. Grabbing my chin he forces me to look at him and the rage I have caused. His entire head has swollen red, like a ripe tomato, with throbbing veins tracing the sides of his temple and threatening to burst. If I had known that spitting on him would upset him this much, I would have done it sooner.