The Price of Love

Chapter 22

Alex's PoV

A full month has passed. I think. I gave up keeping track of the days after a while, it didn't matter and I don't want to think about how long I've been tied to this chair. Being tied to the chair and not being allowed to move, write, or have anyone to talk to or anything to do has started to drive me insane. I've taken to randomly screaming in the dead of night while I'm still gagged, and singing loudly when I'm ungagged. I've also given up resisting eating and trying to starve myself to death, I just let him wrench my jaws open and shove food into my mouth. Solitary confinement is leaving its mark on me. The only things that keep me from going completely insane are the knowledge that someone will find me, my country will need me when they do, and John. Even though he hates me, the memories of him help keep me sane. And I haven't told them anything yet, not even the tiniest detail. I've passed out quite a few times from blood loss, and my pain receptors are non-existent at this point, but I won't betray my country. Cornwallis is pissed. My head lolls to the side as he storms in. He lands a hard blow to my cheek, cracking it to the side and cutting open my skin with the force of it. "Listen here you fucking bastard." He barks, yanking my gag off. "You tell me right NOW what your weakest fronts are, or you're losing half the blood in your body!"

"Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away." I sing with an almost impercivable mocking edge to my voice. He yells angrily and strikes me across the other cheek. Blood smears across my face and I lick the drops that land near or on my lips, pushed to the point where I'm desperate for any food or anything that can keep me going for a bit longer. That never used to happen before. He presses the knife against my face, his eyes filled with rage, and drags the knife from right under my left eye, across my nose, all the way to the right side of my jaw. I don't even flinch as blood runs freely down my face. Just another scar. I open my mouth and let my blood run into my mouth. I cough slightly at the salty, metallic taste. Cornwallis plunges his knife into my leg and draws a long, deep gash that would have been excruciating, had he not killed my pain receptors. Blood soaks into my already blood-soaked clothes. I look like a Redcoat. They haven't given me a change of clothes, so I've been sitting in the same ones for the past month, and they keep soaking up more blood. He does the same thing to my other leg and I start giggling for no reason. Cornwallis glares at me coldly as tears of laughter start streaming down my face. They quickly stop though and I lean as far to the side as I can, groaning loudly in boredom. "I'm booooooooooooooooorreddddd." I whine.

"Too fucking bad." He growls, rubbing his temples. "Give me the information I want and you can have something to keep you from being bored." I sigh exaggeratedly.

"You're a dickbag." I grumble. He snarls.

"I'll be back in a few hours." He says, re-gagging me. He then leaves, the blanket waving in his wake. After a while, I scream. Loud and long, a pointless, insane scream rips from my throat. I hold it for a full minute before it trails off. Fun times that I have here.

---

Hours later, Cornwallis comes back. I hear him talking to someone in a low voice outside the cabin, but I don't care. My head droops down, my chin hitting my chest. A few minutes later, Cornwallis comes in and rips my gag off. Then he walks out. That's when Miss Maria Lewis walked into my life. I hear soft footsteps approaching me, then a soft hand gently lifts my head up. I gaze dully at the woman. She's pretty good looking actually. Bronze skin a bit lighter than my own when I'm not this pale, blonde hair, light blue eyes. She's wearing a red silk dress that's pretty revealing up there, but that's irrelevant to me. "Hi pretty lady, what do you want?" I mumble. "Is this a new torture? Are they going to try to soften me up by having people who I don't think could 'hurt' me 'hurt' me? Go tell Cornwallis it won't work. I'm too smart for him." I start giggling madly at myself, kicking my feet the inch they can move. I laugh for about a solid five minutes, until I can't breathe.

"I don't want to do this, I don't want to be here, this ain't right." She sighs. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want to do this, but they're making me." She turns my face up to look at her and kisses me. On the lips. I scream loudly and try desperately to get away from her. But as I'm tied to a chair, my attempts are in vain.

"No! Stop! I already have someone!" I scream, tears starting to slide down my face. "Stop it! Please!" She quickly pulls away. I start sobbing. "He's gonna hate me even more when he finds out." I sob, but it could have been heard mistakenly as 'she', so I don't care. I still love him, even though he hates me. He still means so much to me. So fucking much.

"Who are you?" She asks suspiciously.

"The-the G-Gen-General." I choke out, my chest heaving. "But-but no-not any-anymore!" I cackle. I laugh for a few seconds before dissolving back into tears. "I just want him." I whisper, too quiet for anyone to hear.

"General Hamilton?" She asks, shock evident in her voice. I nod. She leans closer to me until her mouth is right next to my ear. "I know where John is." My sobs cease. I slowly look up at her.

"You know where John is?" I ask in a small voice, hope sparking in me. She nods. "Please, please, tell him I'm sorry. Tell him it's all my fault. I shouldn't have let him drink, I'm such an idiot! Even though he won't care, tell him I still love him. Please." I beg, another tear running down my face. She nods.

"Of course. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here. I promise. I'm supposed to stay in here with you anyway, we can plan." She says. I nod, returned to the right state of mind. Hope is a powerful thing, isn't it?

"How many Redcoats are stationed here? Do you know?" I demand. She shrugs helplessly.

"At least two dozen." She says hesitantly. I nod.

"Okay, okay. We can send in a platoon to combat them, we're strong enough." I mutter. "Oh, thank the Lord for the French troops." I look at her, holding her gaze. "When you leave, I need you to go straight to New York. Go to Manhattan, Kips Bay. Ask around if you can't find it, our soldiers are some of the nicest, sweetest men you'll ever meet. Then you'll need to get to my dad's house, again, just ask around. No one will think anything of it, we get quite the number of immigrants. Tell him where I am, tell him how many soldiers there are guarding me. And tell him I requested our own troops to be sent, our own boys in blue. And, and tell him that in the left drawer of my desk, in that stack of papers, are a lot of plans for what to do if I ever get captured. Please. He needs me. He's probably stressed and relying heavily on plans I've already drafted up, he needs me there to help him." The last part is more for myself then for her.

"Okay. I'll get you out of here, I promise." She says. I nod.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Maria Lewis." She says. I dip my head.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Miss Lewis. I would shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment." I manage a small smile. "General Alexander Washington-Hamilton at your service, but please, Alex or sir will do fine." She smiles back.

"You're not what I was expecting." She mutters.

"I know. Nobody expects me to be me. And they definitely don't expect me to be so... how'd you put it? Loose? Not like a prince? Not like a prince. People don't expect me to not act like some bossy little prick just because I'm in charge. I'm weird that way." I explain.

"Indeed."