Chapter 10: Bound

Bound

[June POV]

My captor drives to an abandoned warehouse. August may have blindfolded me, but that doesn't prohibit me from feeling every turn. I know exactly how we got here.

Which means I know exactly how to get back.

When the van at last lurches to a stop, I hear Thomas' brother exit the vehicle. His foot falls, carelessly heavy, approach my door. He opens my door and grabs my bound hands. August's hands are like sandpaper; dry, rough, lukewarm, and unfeeling. He yanks me from the car and I almost fall over my own feet. When the soles of my boots at last find traction, I tug against my restraints instinctively. August yanks back and a cold fury rises in the back of my throat. I want to fight him, and I could, if it weren't for the baby.

When we're safely over the threshold, August removes my blindfold. His face is twisted into a leering, pompous snarl. I snarl back as I take in my surroundings. The warehouse is bare except for an enormous cage in the middle of the room, and a rolling desk chair a few feet away from it. August continues to roughly shove me ahead of him. We reach the cage and August pulls the door open, though it protests with a loud squeal from the hinges. August quickly clips a chain onto the zip-tie around my wrists and then shoves me in. I fall onto the cold cement flooring, a grunt escaping my lips. I sit up, and my hand instinctively goes to my stomach, protecting the life inside. August walks away from the cage, holding the chain connected to my hands. I'm forced to scoot closer to the edge of the cage. August clips the chain to a ring on the wall. It's anchored so that I cannot stand up. Absently, I wonder why August procured such a large cage if I'm not going to be allowed to walk around in it. After August has fully secured the chain, he plops down in the chair, not even paying attention to me. Mentally, I measure the width and length of the cage, then determine the alloys and materials in the metal bars. The cage is about eleven feet wide, nine feet in length, and twelve feet tall. It's made of a mixture of steel, titanium, and iron. The bars are each about six inches apart and extend vertically. My eyes flit towards August. He's in the chair, reading a newspaper he must have had shoved in his back pocket. He doesn't notice when I visually inspect the lock on the cage. It's simple, rudimentary even. A simple code lock. August was smart though. He had the cage unlocked before I got here. That way, there was no possible way I could have heard or seen him punch in the code. He smarter than to make it a number I could guess, like Thomas' birthday for example. It's likely that the code is a random number. As far as I can tell, I have no way out.

[Day POV]

Pascao and I sprint back to our apartment. I activate the tracking program in June's ring. Making her wedding ring trackable seemed ridiculous at the time. Not so ridiculous now.

It looks like June is in an abandoned warehouse in the Lake sector. Whoever took her obviously doesn't know who he's dealing with. Goddy trot.

Pascao and I hop down the stairs to the apartment building, taking them two at a time. We emerge into the slanted, blinding sunlight of the fading day. Our feet pound against the asphalt towards the red dot- June -on my sensor.

[June POV]

After I've been sitting in the cage for approximately fourteen minutes and forty-two seconds, August approaches the door. His black leather jacket creaks as he reaches toward the lock. August types in a code. The lock, as I excepted, makes no sound. August is careful not to move his arm when he types the code, only his fingers. He has yet to reveal the code to me.

Stepping into the cage, August smirks at me. He approaches until he's towering over me, looking down. After staring into my eyes for a minute- I suppose he's trying to intimidate me -August crouches down next to me, balanced on the balls of his feet. He says softly, "Before I kill you, there's a few things I want to do." August reaches towards his back pocket slowly and pulls out a gleaming scalpel. He inspects it, moving the scalpel so the light flashes off it. August lowers himself so that he's sitting next to me. From a pocket in his jacket, he retrieves a small stone. August begins to scrape the scalpel against the stone, sharpening it. ShrreeEEEeem The sound of metal against stone is deafening.

Between swipes of the knife, August talks to me.

"Tell me," he orders, "all about my brother."

I correct him, "Half brother." August shoots me a look that tells me he's dying to use that scalpel. I divulge the whole story of Thomas, from our childhood together, to his execution. All the while, August continues to sharpen the scalpel. When I finish, he looks up at me.

A single tear runs down August's deranged face as he says,"He was your friend. Thomas loved you. And you betrayed him!" I put my face as close to Thomas' as I can get.

Then I hiss, "Thomas killed my brother. He was a murderer." Without warning, August's hand shoots out and clasps around my neck.

He squeezes, cutting off my airflow, "Don't you EVER speak of my brother that way."

I nod, only to regain my breath. While I gasp, Thomas locks a hand around my thigh. He begins to use the scalpel to shorten my pant leg, as if to make a pair of shorts. When he has cut all the way around the leg, August slides the knife down the pant, slicing it. He pulls away the cloth, revealing the lower half of my left leg.

August grasps my ankle, and twists my leg around so that my knee is facing the side of my right leg and the outside of my calf is facing upward. It's a very uncomfortable position, and I writhe against it. In response, August digs the tip of the scalpel into the meat of my thigh. I cry out, which seems to satisfy August.

August places the scalpel at the bottom of my calf, about three inches above the ankle. He looks toward me and says, "You will never forget my brother." Then, he begins to slice into my leg. I scream with every ounce of my voice as August slices a vertical cut- about four inches long and a half inch deep -into my leg. I continue to scream as he carves another line, this one going horizontal. August has carved a "T" into my leg. There's blood everywhere, and August wipes it away with his sleeve. He looks at me again, tears now running down my face.

"Can't have all this blood, can we?" I watch as August crumples part of the newspaper that was sticking out of his back pocket, and throws it on the floor. August cleans the scalpel on his pant leg, then pulls a lighter from his jacket pocket. Quickly, he lights the scrap of newspaper on fire. August places the scalpel into the heart of the fire. I watch, entrances, as the blade turns neon orange. I'm still in some sort of trance when August pulls the blade from the fire. He turns slowly, and places it flat on my leg, over the cut. I release an unearthly howl, one born of pain and rage and fire. August turns the blade horizontally and cauterizes the top of the T. The cuts are now closed, and August wipes away the excess blood. The pain leftover is like nothing I've ever felt before. My leg is freezing, burning, going numb.

After five more letters, H, O, M, A, and S, I'm about to pass out. My leg has gone numb, which I take as a blessing. August has etched "THOMAS" into my leg. The scars will be there forever- August was right, I will never be able to forget his brother.

August stands up and places his hands on his hips, proud of himself.

He looks at me and grins, "Alrighty then, glad that that's done. Now, time to kill you." August says it so casually, one might think he was talking about something as simple as going to the grocery.

I say through gritted teeth, my head lolling side to side, "Why go through all that," my hand flops weakly toward my leg, "just to kill me?" I smile, feeling drunk. August's face turns serious, like storm clouds rolling in over the sun.

His eyebrows pull together as he says, "Because I want you to know the pain I've felt. That-" August points at my leg, "is what it felt like when I found out Thomas was dead."

I laugh, "Oh August... August, August, you silly boy." The blood loss has made me woozy, "Don't you know that my brother died too?"

The fog in my head is beginning to clear, "My brother, Metias, was my only family. He was everything, my sun, my moon, my stars, my light. And now, he's gone. Do you know why he's gone? Because your brother-" August silences me with a backhand to my face.

"THAT'S IT!" August roars. He yanks a syringe from his pocket, no doubt filled with a lethal concoction, just as I see a shadow shift through a crack in the warehouse door. I know that Day is here. I need only stall for time.

I look up at August, "What kind of monster are you, that you would kill a soon-to-be mother?" August's face contorts in confusion.

"You're, pregnant?" I nod, "Three months. Hoping for a girl, but don't tell Day." I move to place a hand on my stomach, hoping to play up the sympathy even more, but my restraints hold me back.

August looks at me, and the confusion fades from his face. It is replaced by a cold, blankness, like an expanse of ice stretching in every direction. August bends down, and inserts the needle into my neck. The last thing I see before it all goes dark is the warehouse door blow off its hinges and August's head snap back. Blood spatters my face and everything goes dark.

[Day POV]

Pascao and I burst into the warehouse. I see a man bent over June, injecting something into her neck. Without even thinking, I pull the trigger on my gun. I've shot him straight in the head and he falls onto the floor. June's head barely turns towards me, and she mouth's "Day..." before her eyes seal shut. Panic rushing through my veins, I rush towards June, trying to take in my surroundings. Warehouse. Deadman. Burnt paper. Chair. Cage. Door open. June's leg. JUNE'S LEG! There are gashes up and down June's leg, and dried blood on the floor surrounding her. The gashes spell something, "THOMAS." Burning fury rises in the pit of my stomach as I take in the damage done to June, my June. I yank out a pocket knife and sever the tie around June's wrists. I pull her into my arms and turn towards Pascao.

"Call an ambulance!" I tell him, running as fast as I can with June in my arms. I feel for a pulse. There, faint, but there.

The doctor tries to make me wait outside the medical room, but I refuse. At last, they relent and let me stay, given I wear the proper scrubs. They have inspected June, and haven't told me anything. They inject her multiple times, including giving her a blood transfusion and removing some of her blood. I stay quiet, fearing they will make me leave if I speak up.

At last, I follow as they wheel June into a different room. They transfer her from the gurney she is on to the bed, hooking up multiple machines and IVs. I silently remove my scrubs and sit in the chair next to the bed. The doctors leave and I wait, all the while holding June's hand and willing her awake.

A doctor walks in.

"Daniel Wing?" he asks.

I nod, "What's wrong with June?" The doctor sighs, turning a page on his clipboard. "She was injected with a mixture of drugs. It was supposed to overdose and kill her. But it appears that whoever injected her only got about half in. June didn't overdose, but it shut down her systems. She's okay, and so is the baby, but Mr. Wing..."

"What?" I ask, anxious, and realizing I didn't even know who June's captor was.

The doctor looks at me, "She's in a coma."