My Idea Book/Randomness

Tortured

 Hot liquid fills my mouth and I fight the urge to swallow. I spit, trying to rid myself of the metallic taste. Blood.

 "Come on, crack, you obstinate mule."

 "Never." The word grinds out between my clenched teeth and a fist slams into my jaw again. The world goes black around the edges and I close my eyes, imagining myself anywhere but here. I can almost see the grass, green beyond the sudden border of reddish, dried pine needles. Below, hidden by the sudden drop of the hill, a brook chuckles, the sweet sound soothing in a way that only memories can be and children's laughter drifts upwards. "Never." This time it's nothing more than a whisper.

 A open palm delivers a stinging blow to my cheek, slamming my head backwards and sideways into the wall behind me. My other cheek strikes the cold stone and I am jarred back into reality.

 I shiver, suddenly feeling cold, though I'm not sure why.

 "Kill her," says a second voice with all the emotion of a man ordering a glass of water. "She knew the consequences. There are others who can tell us what we want to know. That brat, Skye for instance."

 Something cold and sharp presses against my throat. I feel a sharp pricking sensation and something trickles down my neck into the collar of my shirt. It doesn't feel as warm as I had imagined, but it must be blood. My own blood. The thought isn't as disturbing as I'm sure it should be.

 They're going to kill me. Finally. It's all going to be over in just a few moments. Then the words register.

 "Not Skye, no!" I cry, unable to stop the words. "No, no, I'll tell you what you want to know, just don't touch Skye." I'm begging. I know it, but I can't stop. In that instant, I imagine Skye going through everything I've just been through and I can't bear it. Beat me, bleed me, break me, but don't touch Skye.

 He's all I have left.

 The second voice chuckles softly, menacingly. "Yes," he says, "I rather thought you might."