Breaking Meredith (Disciples 4)

Oh god, he’s pretty much recreated it, hasn’t he? Except bigger and scarier.

“Andrew has arrived,” Matthew says suddenly behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Thank fuck,” Simon mutters.

We weave through the old equipment, making our way to a room in the back that must have once been an office. I stop in the doorway, every hair on my body standing on end.

I do not want to go in there…

“Meredith, come,” Matthew says, giving me a little nudge. “Simon needs to rest.”

I shoot him a dirty look but move forward.

Inside the room is a table, a few chairs, and a desk pushed up against the wall. There once must have been carpet, but it’s been ripped up, baring the concrete floor. The red fibers lining the edges of the room the only clue it was ever there.

The smell of disinfectant is heavy in the air, and maybe it’s just my own sick imagination, but I’m certain I can smell blood beneath it.

I help Simon to the closest chair. He slumps down into it with a hiss. Sweat glistens on his brow and his skin looks a little ashen.

I try to take a step back, fully intent on finding some excuse to go outside, but Simon’s hand whips out, his fingers latching onto my hand.

“No,” he says firmly and his pain-filled eyes turn up to me. “I… need you here with me, princess.”

I hesitate and stare into his face.

Fuck. I want to run far, far away from here.

But how can I deny him when he needs me? When the only reason he’s suffering right now is because of me?

Even though every instinct inside of me is screaming for me to flee, to put as much distance as possible between me and this warehouse, I nod my head.

Simon’s shoulders relax, the tension flowing out of him as I move closer to stand beside his chair.

He keeps ahold of my hand, squeezing it sporadically and stroking his thumb along my skin.

I try to focus on his touch, on how amazing the simple act of his skin rubbing against my skin feels, when Andrew and James appear in the doorway.

“Look who I found outside,” Andrew says, walking into the room carrying a big black backpack draped over his shoulder.

“Where do you want this asshole?” James asks, shoving a bound and gagged Asad in front of him.

Asad stumbles forward and turns his head, shouting muffled curses at James.

“Save your breath for later, asshole. You’re going to need it,” James laughs and gives him another shove.

“The table, Simon?” Matthew asks, looking to Simon for confirmation.

Out of everyone, Matthew looks the most calm and collected. In fact, he looks like he’s mildly amused by all of this.

Simon’s eyes blaze and his skin flushes with color as he glares angrily at Asad. “Yes, the table will work perfectly for what I have planned for him.”

Asad jerks his head towards Simon, glaring back just as angrily at him, then his attention turns to me.

The glare turns downright murderous as he shouts something that’s muffled but sounds a lot like ‘filthy whore’.

James cracks him upside the head with the pistol he’s holding in his right hand and Asad drops down to one knee, nearly collapsing.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady. You’re going to regret that, motherfucker,” James says, his own anger showing now as he grabs Asad roughly by the arm and drags him over to the table.

“So tell me where it hurts, Spider,” Andrew smirks and drops his big backpack down to the floor with a loud thump. He squats down in front of Simon’s chair.

Simon’s angry glare swings to Andrew. “You need to check out Meredith first.”

I blink in surprise. Besides the headache, I haven’t sustained any other injuries. The cavalry showed up just in time to spare me from whatever Asad had planned.

“I’m fine, Simon,” I assure him. “Your injuries should be tended to first.

Simon squeezes my hand. “You need to be checked, Meredith.”

“But you’re—”

“The longer you stall, the longer until I’m tended to,” Simon growls, putting the matter to rest.

I sigh with resignation. Will I ever get my fucking way with this man?

Andrew looks between us then nods his head. He unzips the front part of his backpack, spreading it open.

After snapping some gloves on his hands, he grabs a small flashlight and straightens.

“How many times were you hit?” he asks as he approaches me.

“Only once, I believe…” I answer as he steps close.

“Where were you hit? Here?” he asks, reaching for the top of my head. He probes lightly at the huge tender knot that is forming and I flinch.

Simon growls low in his throat.

Andrew smirks at Simon. “I’ll only touch her as much as I have to.”

Then he returns his attention to me as he leans back. “Any other injuries I should know of?”