Snippet #1802705

 “ In the office, Renée nearly dropped the cup of tea she was drinking as the crash downstairs startled her from her thoughts. As she lifted it to her mouth again, ignoring the liquid spilled on the front of her dress, Rose glanced at his watch - four and a half hours, precisely. Sighing, he fixed his sleeves one more time, as though it might settle his feelings - unsurprisingly, it didn't - and made a move towards the door, where Tom and Daz awaited. The manor's owner seemed either apathetic or unaware of the current situation, and Rose couldn't help but hope that it was the guilt of the situation, finally catching up to her.

He sighed - probably not. It was more likely just another mood of Renée's.

"Should we go check on them?" Tom's voice, anxious but somehow muffled, streamed in through the loudspeaker mounted on the office door. Rose glanced back at Renée, who again gave him only a blank stare. "They might start breaking things."

"Hurry and check. Bring someone else with you, too," Rose's mind cast around, trying to recall those who had returned to the manor. "Take Matt, but be careful."

"It will be fine, Rose," Renée spoke for the first time in the last half hour, peering at him expressionlessly over her cup. "Please calm yourself. They are only five children."

"Only-!" Rose resisted the urge - the very powerful urge - to scratch at his smartly-combed hair in frustration. If only Renée could be a bit more consistent in her logic - they were only children, indeed, when she wanted them that way. Otherwise, they were evil filth, or weaklings, or whatever excuse his mistress felt like using on that particular day. He eyed her peripherally as the guards' footsteps faded away, and sighed.

"No. On with the plan, yes? How exactly do you want me to explain to them this - this kind of a game?"

"Please excuse me, Rose. Would you bring me some more tea?"



Blinking, Linde tried to sit up, his knees seeming to crack with some pain that he could not remember. Strange, that his arms didn't move to help the process, either. This space was dark, and gray and somehow very small - no, that wasn't it. Focusing on his face, Linde realized that he was wearing something. Something thick, strapped across his eyes like-

A blindfold.

His insides succumbed suddenly to gravity as he processed this. And the thing inside his mouth - cloth, also - a gag? Arm bindings?

What? Linde suddenly spun on his knees, disoriented by a hit that had seemed to come out of nowhere. He hadn't seen the motion, or even the attacker, but he had proof of someone's presence here - someone who he still couldn't quite place, even though that "someone" had both his arms bound behind him and a foot in his back. It was eerie; he couldn't even hear this person breathing hard.

There were people like this? He smashed his hand into the ground, searching for something tangible. And why should they come after someone like him? As Linde's mind spun, the attacker pressed down hard with his foot, forcing his nose to the ground. He felt vomit rising in his throat - vomit, that unfortunately was held back by the gag and exploded in the back of his mouth instead. Sick - he couldn't even cough it out.

I'm going to die!

The pressure on his back lifted, but Linde felt a rush in the air as the person moved - she was in front of him now, lifting the blindfold.

Wait.

A girl. He had just been completely beaten - by this girl.

"More awake now?" she asked, pulling him to his feet - a difficult task, since Linde was both nauseous and tied into his kneeling position. "You should be grateful. I got you in your sleep, you know. Didn't even have to draw blood."

"Let go of me!" Linde tried to say, but it came out in syllables that sounding more like thick bubbling - gross. A little vomit trickled out from behind the cloth, and Linde flinched away as the woman stepped in to wipe it from his face.

"A lot of them tried to fight, I'm guessing. But you were good." Not that his "goodness" seemed to please her - she was frowning a little, not quite the sadist that he would have expected from her words. "Come on, let's go."

As the kidnapper - that was what she was, right? - grabbed Linde by the shoulders, he caught a glimpse of the car to his left - the vehicle he had arrived in? There was no license plate. This was completely unreal. He felt as though he had left his body a long time ago, and was watching himself get dragged away. His own guardian angel.

"Look up."

He obeyed - because she had jerked his head back by the hair - and nearly forgot to breath out. The stuff in his throat began to slide back down; Linde coughed wildly to stop it.

The house was magnificent - no, it couldn't really be called a house. A castle perhaps, one of the medieval sorts without any lighting. Linde caught his breath and continued to stare. It was made of what seemed to be white marble, with little gold details on the side - who could afford to gild a house with gold, anyways? A stone dragon rose from one of the gardens, seeming to eye the arrivals imperiously. Coldly.

Was this a cult sacrifice or something? He winced, eyes trailing down towards his own throat. How would they do it?

Would it hurt?

What a dumb question.

But she pushed him in the direction of the house and not the dragon - a place that seemed no more inviting, for all its lavish details - and he tripped again, over his knees still tied to his hands. If he wasn't paralyzed with fear, he might have glared at this woman. Or something. It was a classic, to escape by biting - but not a distinct possibility. So the girl managed to herd him up, over rows of jagged rocks through what seemed to be a monochrome picture of a house, unfolded in 3D.

It was like one of those grand theatres his old teacher had shown him - flawless in the brochure, but only real up close. The building was the same, but the sky wasn't as blue as he imagined, and the throngs of tourists obscured his view. It was exactly the same here - he could see the cracks in the walls, and the dirt creeping up the sides of the white as she brought him to a stop before the front steps. The twin pillars that seemed to reach to the sky bore brown, water-shaped marks as though they had just been washed and dried.

It was no less imposing for that - perhaps more so, since it was so real. Linde gulped - and spat again, as the stranger kicked him in the back, sending him sprawling across the last steps to the double doors.

"There seems to be some disorder in the foyer, George, you should hold him out here for now."

George. So, that was her name.

"HEY, BASTARDS. YOU BETTER LET ME OUT IF YOU WANNA FUCKING LIVE."

George shrugged. Linde felt a chill run down his spine, his fear suddenly skyrocketing along with the other boy's - or whoever it was in there's - voice. ”