Chains

Chapter 2: The Stops

When I open my eyes my heart shatters. For a moment before I rouse I'm floating in the haze of my mind, my situation doesn't come back for a blissful minute. The fabric of the world is slowly pulling itself back together and I see the man that dragged me into this car gawking at me. I discretely slid my fingers against the lining of the seat snagging the sleeve of the jacket he used the night before and pull it over me as a makeshift blanket. I wonder if he even slept?

I doubt he did considering he hasn't yet figured out what to do with me and what kind of person I am. I could only speculate on this matter of course but that's what I would first do if I was in his position. That's how I worked. All my patients reacted differently when coming in. Some were in hysterics, others were runners, most were fighters. I looked at him through my lashes keeping my head down closing my eyes to distract myself from the reality of my situation. He probably wanted to peel back all my layers in order to peg me down in a category he could strategically use to put a plan into motion on how he was going to handle me.

Maybe he wasn't thinking about me at all. Hinata...was she awake? Was she crying? I felt a twinge ripple through the muscle in my heart and my thoughts went out to her. I willed her to be strong. The motion of the car stopped, the engine turned off, and I felt like a trapped animal in a very small box. I had an alarming shrill of fear thrum through my blood. I wanted out. Where were we? It was hard to see in the darkness of the windows and it was worse in the cover of the night. My captor nonchalantly glanced out the window not moving a muscle. I heard the driver's door slam shut and then the pop of the trunk. My body was urging me to fight. If not for me then for Hinata's sake. He was going to hurt her. I needed to disable the asshole across from me first. His eyes froze me in place. I was on the edge of my seat, ready to spring. Spring at what? I was inflating a false hope that I could subdue him and get out. I needed to rationalize. I took deep breaths trying to keep them hidden from reaching his ears and I settled back in my seat.

The door opened on the opposite side from me but the elder captor didn't duck his head into the cab. He didn't need to address me. It was clear I was not part of this.

"I want her to wake up."

My 'sitter's' voice boomed in the interior drawing me back from my thoughts. "You're supposed to give her another dose so she does sleep."

Its clear there's some sort of calm dynamic between the two. There's anger in the elder's voice but it's reserved and doesn't threaten to turn to violence. Meanwhile the younger one acts more casual and blasé about the whole thing. Maybe even sparking more annoyance from the elder. But he keeps composure and continues. "The young ladies will need something to eat, drink, and I'm sure have to use the facilities."

The younger one shrugged casting a glance in my direction. I ripped my gaze from his defiantly jerking my head away so he couldn't openly stare any more. I don't want him to see that I'm on the verge of tears. Despite chanting a mental mantra I could feel the walls I put up cracking and threatening to crumble. I was absorbed in keeping my tears stalled. My door opened and the figment from the room was now a solidified form.

This one had an older face but his likeness was startlingly similar akin to the younger ones. Brothers. They had to be. There was no way that the man before me could be the young one's father. Perhaps they had a slim gap in age difference but I had no more doubts that these two who worked as a cohesive team were related somehow. He was slender and lanky in the middle to his hips but as my eyes glide up his body broadens at the chest and his entire arm span could encapsulate from my window to the tip of his on the driver's side. His hair is neatly tied back by a red band with a fair amount of bangs that wouldn't collect because of how it was cropped and cut. He had distinct lines under his eyes that almost looked like scars. He was just as lean and muscular as the other one was but had more of a menacing face. His was placid and unreadable. That was terrifying. Those who normally didn't show emotion were categorized as psychopaths. My thoughts were trying to turn this over to something positive. At least he offered to feed us and let us relieve ourselves. I mentally smacked myself over and over until all my ramblings blurred and quieted. Somehow...this man's voice was deeper and guttural than his twins. It was rougher. But the way he spoke he had an articulate and smooth reach in his tone like crumpled paper that's been ironed.