𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝔸𝕨𝕒𝕪 •𝕁𝔽𝕂•

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12 - ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ

Warning : This chapter includes a detailed description of violence and blood. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable. DM me directly if you don't want to read but still wanna know the story. I'll share it with you in a DM. :)

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"Unhand me! I just lost my way! Where are you taking me? Fidel wouldn't like you treating me this way!" I cried, as the men practically dragged me by my arms and I struggled to pull my arms away. The only good thing was, they hadn't found out the letters that I was hiding inside my robe yet.

They dragged me back to where I had escaped from, the room that belonged to Fidel Castro, the sound of snoring still audible to me from inside. They loudly knocked on the door and a loud grunt came from inside the room and then, Fidel asked us to come in. Someone opened the door and pushed me inside, making me land on my knees just next to Castro's bed. Castro's eyes widened and his glare landed from me to his men, "Cuál es el significado de este?" He angrily barked at one of his men asking them what the meaning of this was.

The man who was holding my left arm took a step forward and started speaking.

"La atrapamos en su oficina, jefe." (We caught her sneaking in your office, boss.)

Castro's eyes went from surprise to angry and within a minute, he was towering over me, his fingers latched into my hair as he yanked my head roughly upwards, making me let out a shrill cry of pain.

"I knew you were too good to be true."

He then turned towards his men and shouted at them, "Qué estaba haciendo en mi oficina? (What was she doing in my office?)"

I shrank into the floor, pulling knees to my chest and locking my hands around them, rocking my body to and fro, nervously listening to them quarrel.

"Parece que estaba buscando algo pero no pudo encontrarlo." (It seems as though she was looking for something but could not find it.) One of the men replied.

Castro suddenly lunged towards me, falling on his knees to get face level with me, his face burning with hatred, "Still working for your American President, huh? Too bad for you, I'm going to cut that pretty head off and send it to your beloved President in a box."

I was about to retaliate in anger but Castro stood up and pointed towards me, still barking out his orders, "Enciérrala en una habitación y asegúrate de que no escape! (Lock her up in a room and ensure that she does not escape.)

"No, Fidel, please!" I pleaded but my pleas fell on deaf ears. He had already left the room in anger. The men grabbed me again by either of my arms and pulled me up roughly to my feet as they dragged me out of Castro's bedroom and down a flight of stairs on the first floor. I was dragged into the further end of the hallway on the first floor and one of the men kicked open a door, pulling me inside and thrusted me into a metal chair. Another man walked up to me and roughly cuffed both my hands behind my back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Within the next five minutes, they all dropped out, one by one, slamming the door locked, leaving me alone inside, locked up to the chair with no way to escape. Tears welled in my eyes and I rapidly blinked them away, losing what little hope I had left of escaping Fidel Castro. I knew that I was stuck in a lion's den, he would never let me get out alive. Every breath I took, it was painful to breathe, it felt like it was my last but it wasn't. My cries were intentionally ignored by them and I was left in that room to wallow in my own misery.

I closed my eyes and stopped screaming, falling back into the chair, ready to give up. That is when I saw him smile at me, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, his green eyes looking down at me as his lips pressed against mine. I tasted Jack in my mind and slowly, I found myself coming back to reality, having found a newfound strength to go on. I couldn't die here, not like this. I had a purpose to serve. I didn't fear death, I would gladly take it if the need required, but I couldn't die in a futile way, helpless and unable to do anything. If I had to die, I would gladly accept it, only on the condition that John Fitzgerald Kennedy got to live.