Leave Me Behind

“Fuck, this one bit me!” the soldier seated on top of me shouts. He punches me square in the jaw and the world flickers for a second. My head drops back and he fucking laughs at my slackened, defeated state.

I try to stay alert, but remaining conscious is the best I can do for now. Two men restrain me and tie up my wrists. Bradshaw fights viciously. Our eyes catch multiple times as he thrashes and stabs a few of them with his knife. It’s not a fair fight—ten to one.

He doesn’t have a chance, but he takes out three of them before they get a hold of him. If they were intending to kill us we’d already be dead. The dread of what’s to become of us builds inside my chest.

Bradshaw is thrown to the ground and three soldiers dressed in black Hades gear use the back of their guns to break his body. All I can do is watch as silent tears fall from my eyes. Bradshaw grunts and protects his head as his ribs and back get the brunt of the assault.

Part of me breaks as I watch them ruin my cruel, lovely partner. In these moments that feel like eternity, I realize that this might be it for him. With each groan and pained glance he steals at me, my heart shatters irrevocably.

“That’s enough. We need both of them alive,” snaps one of the soldiers. The others stop and chuckle as they lift up Bradshaw. His head hangs as they force him to walk between them. Bradshaw can barely stay on his feet. He watches me through swollen eyes and blood that trickles down his face. The man carrying me tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes—his arms are hooked around my knees while my torso hangs down his back.

I wish I could hear Bradshaw’s thoughts. I know I should be thinking of how to get out of this situation, but all I can ponder is what his kisses would be like in a life different than this. What books he hasn’t read yet. How many nights we’d stay up late and watch TV until we fall asleep.

I hold onto those warm dreams for as long as I can, but they fade as we’re taken to their fortress. The forest breaks and opens to a meadow. A lake sparkles in the moonlight in the distance. But the fortress is by far the most gripping sight.

The building looks new, the walls still untouched by the weather. The frame is cream-colored and modern, with black vertical windows, doors, and edges. It’s in the shape of a rectangle and the smooth matted surface almost makes it look like a natural rock formation. Once we get closer, the camouflaged exterior paint is more noticeable and it’s evident how they’ve been able to keep such a low profile out here. Armed men stand every twenty feet of the damn place and my hopes sink further into my chest as we pass four auto-locking doors.

What the fuck is this place? Who pays for all of this? The soldier finally sets me on my feet once we reach an elevator. Bradshaw is kept from entering and it’s just me and two soldiers in the contained space.

A surge of panic rushes through me at the idea of being separated from him and I thrash, screaming and fighting to get to Bradshaw. His head is limp. Tousled, blood-smeared hair and flexed shoulders are all I get to see before the doors close.

My body stills and the men wrestle me back between them. “Damn, that was cold. He didn’t even look at you.” The one that carried me chuckles. His eyes move down my figure and it raises the hair on the back of my neck. He cups a hand between my thighs.

Bile rises in my throat. I know what happens to hostages in remote, untouchable places like this one. I keep my mouth shut and try not to give away the terror circling inside my chest. These monsters like it when you’re afraid. They get off on it.

I shut my eyes and ignore him as he continues to fondle me and whispers disgusting promises for what’s to come later tonight in my cell. Stay calm. You’ve trained for this. Techniques on ripping off a dick from a male’s body filter through my mind and keep me relatively calm.

It’s a mercy when the doors finally open on the B4 floor. We’re underground. At least the soldiers aren’t being unnecessarily violent with me. I’ll remember that when I’m killing them. I’ll make it quick for the ones who don’t touch me. Handsy, however, I’ll gut the motherfucker after I cut his dick off and shove it down his throat.

The fourth level down is the cell block. It’s the nicest mini prison I’ve ever seen and I’ve witnessed my share of how degrading and filthy they can be. It’s clear these have never been used. The white tiles are shiny and reflect the bright fluorescent lights above. The cells aren’t barred except for a small square at the top middle of each door for communication. Our footsteps echo in the empty hall; only one armed guard stands by the elevator.

They lead me to the end of the hall and unlock the door with a key card and a fingerprint. I eye Handsy as he walks me into my cell. It’s a good sign that there’s no blood in here. But that does little to ease my nerves.

Handsy’s partner closes us in, waiting on the outside. I assess the room while he unbinds my wrists. It has a single twin-sized bed, a toilet, and a sink—nothing else. All white. It isn’t a tacky, hastily thrown-together design either; it seems purposeful and neat. Its design is to drive whoever is kept in these white walls mad.

Our weapons were taken and left in the forest. I feel naked without them. My hands twitch at my sides as I consider taking this guy on. But I think better of it. I’d rather not take my chance until I know I can escape with Bradshaw.

I wonder why he wouldn’t look at me. My eyes close. Maybe I’m no longer useful now that I’ve been captured. What use are weapons once dulled?

“The captain will have you two brought to his war room in an hour, so if I were you I’d get cleaned up. Maybe he won’t kill you if he fancies you.” Handsy smirks and his dead eyes send chills up my spine. I give him a subtle nod and he laughs before touching me again. This time he grabs my ass. “They said you were wild, but I like the submissive ones.”

I want to rip his brains out with my bare fingers. I act the part and smile sweetly at him and it charms him more. He kisses me on the cheek before leaving and once the door is shut and I’m alone, I let myself fall to the center of the floor.

The room is cold. The vent above constantly blows air down, intentionally I’m sure, to make this room miserable. I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my head on my forearms as I listen for them to bring Bradshaw down the hall to his cell. But as the minutes turn into the hour, I realize he wasn’t brought down to this floor like I was.

I go over torture tactics they might use and what my best options are.

The videos I watched in my very first trainings replay in my mind and I have to swallow the bile rising in my throat. Please, God, not my nails. Considering Handsy’s advice, I wash my hands and face. I’m better off playing the sweet, non-murderous girl if that’s what they’ll see. Blood and dirt cling to the bleached sink. I get my uniform as clean as I can before redoing my braid, hoping it looks decent. It’d be nice if there was just one mirror in here.

The door finally clicks as the locks shift and in come two soldiers—Handsy and his companion. I check their uniforms for names or numbers but am met with symbols instead—a snake on their top pocket flaps.

“I knew you’d clean up nice,” Handsy says smoothly, offering his hand rather than grabbing me. I’m not going to subject myself to aggressive treatment, not when I know I can make them vulnerable and confused with my body and sweet smiles. Not to mention, I’m in agony and am hoping they’ll offer me morphine soon.

“Thank you…” I leave it open, hoping he’ll at least tell me his name. I slide my hand on top of his and he pulls me toward him softly.

“Lee. This is Paul.” Lee smiles at me and guides me out of the room, keeping a firm but not painful hold on my uninjured hand. At least they don’t have me in bindings this time. That’s a good sign that my acting is working.

I study the hall again as I’m marched down the cell block—ten rows of rooms before the end where mine is. I can’t be certain that there’s no one else down here, but the quiet and cleanliness heavily allude to it.

“Am I going to be interrogated, Lee?” I ask innocently. His fingers squeeze a little tighter around mine.

“Maybe a little, but I don’t think he will hurt you, cutie. I mean, you’re just unlucky to be teamed with that monster. Did you see what he did to our men by the river?” Lee sounds pissed.

Oh, shit. Do they think it was Bradshaw who did that? I’m in deep water if they find out I’m the one who cut up their friends. I’m a little ticked that they assume it couldn’t have been me, but I’m the prisoner here, I’ll take whatever mercies I can get until the time is right.

I nod dramatically. “He’s ruthless. You should see the scars he’s given me.” Not exactly a lie.

Paul is quiet and he gives me a cold glance from my right side. It’s evident he doesn’t trust me, not like Lee already does. But I force big, fake tears and his expression softens as he notices the hand bruises on my neck before he looks away.

Fingers crossed the soldiers are all like these two.

We step into the elevator again and go up to the second floor. Lee and Paul seem nervous this time, so I don’t have to suffer any unwanted fondling. I’m beginning to get skeptical about the luck I’ve been getting. At some point I think the torture is going to ensue.

The doors open to a wide showroom. It’s enormous. The ceilings and walls are all made of glass, and the night sky is on display above. The auroras dance near the top of a distant mountain. The view is enough to stop your heart. The room is lit from below and metal panes that hold the glass double as lights. If I weren’t bleeding and being held hostage, I’d think this was the world’s most extravagant resort tucked in the remote mountains of Labrador.

Lee leads the way with me in tow. I let my eyes explore as much as I can, searching for any potential weak points in their defenses. I’m assuming all the glass is bulletproof because it would be irrational if it wasn’t. There are armed soldiers every ten feet, focusing on us as I’m led in like a sacrificial lamb.

At the end of the grand showroom are large black double doors—modern and slick. Paul takes one, Lee the other. They open them at the same time and Lee whispers under his breath, “Have fun.”

I stare at him before looking ahead into the next room. At its center lies Bradshaw, blood pooling around his still body. My muscles seize and I can’t force my legs to move.

“In,” Paul snaps at me.

All I can do is stare at my broken, beautiful soldier. Is he dead? My stomach lurches and I can’t find the rhythm of my breath.

Please don’t be dead. I need you.

Paul grows tired of my paralyzed state and shoves my back, making me trip into the room. The doors close behind me and I press my back against them.

I’ve never felt this way before… so scattered and unable to compose myself. Even when Jenkins died I could at least partially respond. I didn’t look back as I left him behind. I wasn’t immobilized, but with Bradshaw, I feel everything and nothing at once. The things I want to say, the secrets I should’ve shared.

My hand curls over my chest and I finally start to stagger toward his unmoving body.

“Bring her to me.” A bored voice echoes through the room. Two soldiers standing idly by move to grab me. I let them drag me by the arms to the man who did this. But I don’t let my eyes break from Bradshaw’s form. I watch him intently, waiting for a cough or a seized breath, but he lies motionless.

The two men toss me to the floor and only then is my trance severed. I force myself to my hands, wincing at the pain that shoots straight through my palms. I hesitate before looking up.

“It’s okay, you can look at me.”

I look up and find a masked man sitting lazily atop an oakwood table. His palms are pressed to the edge as he leans forward to see me better. His mask is matte black and covers his entire face. It’s in the shape of a skull and the eye sockets have a mesh screen that hides his eyes.

The silence that fills the room makes me uncomfortable. I start to look over my shoulder back at Bradshaw, but my jaw is caught in the man’s hand and he turns my face back to his.

“You care about that guy?” He has no tone, just odd curiosity that sends shivers up my spine. I nod slowly. “Why?”

Why? That’s a great question. But regardless of what the answer is, I do. I care about him more than I’ll ever admit.

“Did you… kill him?” My voice is weak.

He throws his head back and laughs before hopping off the table. “Let’s go find out.” He fists my hair and pulls me over to Bradshaw on my hands and knees. I bite into my lower lip to keep from whimpering at the pain of him pulling on my scalp.

He releases me a few feet away and I crawl to close the distance, pulling the bleeding soldier into my lap and brushing his dark hair from his face. Shock rolls through me as I stare down at Bradshaw’s face.

It’s not him.

“E-Eren?” I choke out. His eyes crack open weakly, but I’m not sure he can see me before they close again. “You fucking monster!” I scream and clutch Eren’s body as if I can protect him.

Eren’s face is drenched in his blood. I wipe away the excess from his cheeks and don’t see cuts, so the wound must be on top of his head somewhere. His arm is broken and hangs to his side lamely while his torso has the monopoly on injuries. His jacket is soaked and leaves blood all over me. It breaks my heart to see him this way.

Even if he lost faith in me—I failed to protect him.

The masked man laughs. “I guess he’s still kicking then? Good, I’d hate for him to miss all the fun.”

I seethe and rise to my feet. I charge at the man and try to punch him in the face but he dodges it and grabs my throat with one hand. The force of it is so powerful it stops all airflow and makes me audibly gasp. Both my hands fly to his arm as I try to fight out of his hold. I’m so weak already that I can hardly put up a worthy fight.

He laughs again and drops me. I fall to my knees and choke as I take staggered breaths. Tears fall to the ground and I shake my head. “Where is Bones?”

“Who? I don’t know a Bones,” he taunts me.

I rise again and try hand-to-hand combat a second time. This round, I’m fighting with a more level head rather than pure rage. I kick him square in the chest, but he doesn’t fall back, he grips my ankle so I can’t pull away and twists it. I cry out at the ugly snapping sound that rings through the room, but I don’t let the pain stop me. I lift my other leg and kick his kidney. He instantly drops my leg and I don’t waste a moment as he clutches his side. I rush him, tackling him to the ground and struggling to get on top of him so I can wring the life out of him.

The soldiers standing by tear me off him and throw me back.

“Coward!” I scream.

The man rises and laughs again. I battle to keep my mind in control. He knew seeing Eren like this would make me distraught. But who the fuck is he? And how long has Eren been here? Where is the rest of the squad? I fight the tears that burn the back of my eyes.

“Bring in the brother,” he says as he turns to return to the table. He sits like the unruly king of this underground operation, bored and seeking entertainment from others’ pain and suffering.

My spine stiffens and I turn as the doors open. Bradshaw limps in. He’s in the same state as when we arrived. Which is still beat to shit, but far better off than his brother.

Bradshaw’s eyes flick to Eren’s body and he only flexes his jaw before looking back at the ground. He still doesn’t meet my eyes and my heart wars against my ribs with terror. Why won’t he fucking look at me?

It dawns on me finally. It’s guilt. He knows who’s in charge, he knows what’s going to happen to us.