A/N: So, this took a little while. My trip to London delayed my affairs =| Anyway, here it is. I've decided I'll only make around more two or three chapters and then it will end. A short somewhat novel-ish? =D Tell me your thoughts on it, please!
Chapter Four
They hadn’t come yet. It had been long since her last trip to the interrogation room. No, she didn’t have a clock, but Jane had a notion of time (which was sometimes lost) and she could tell if it had been too long. Normally, she would say there was a gap of around six hours or something between her visits. It had been longer than that since she last saw him, and Jane was getting nervous.
Silence. Maybe something happened to him. His bosses weren’t happy with the lack of improvement as far as information went, and took him out.
Her suspicions were partially confirmed when the door opened and the man that caught hold of her wasn’t Eric. She moved away from his grasp, it felt wrong. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled at him. Almost instantly, the man removed his hand and backed away. Ah, well now, she was pleased to verify she could still intimidate people. Very well then, walk with dignity now.
Down the narrow hall, one turn to the left – the man opened the door. There were three people inside: the man she had punched previously (that insisted on glaring at her) and someone arguing with Eric.
“Do it! Now,” the man barked at Eric, and passed him something which remained hidden by his side. Noticing their presence, the man sent daggers piercing through Jane with his stare and then walked out. Eric also stared coldly at her, but his expression was somewhat sad.
He sighed and then ordered, “Sit down.”
In silence, Jane did as ordered, and was surprised when he took a seat in front of her. He didn’t do that, he usually just stood there. He set a small revolver on the table, and kept his gaze locked on Jane as she looked surprised at the thing. He was going to shoot her? Ha. She was sure they must had tried that before and then verified it didn’t work, but apparently they were really late on progress.
“You know that won’t kill me.”
She had lowered her sight from his, for it was as if it burned her, her skin, her heart – her soul.
“With only that, no, you won’t,” he agreed, as he reached into his pockets. She heard the clingy sound, while Eric laid three silver bullets on the table.
How did they know that? Jane hid her nervousness as she faced it. Silver bullets didn’t exactly kill them… they were simply excruciatingly painful and without blood they would provoke a slow death. That wouldn’t do for a face to face war between the races, since the effects only appeared later, but to captives like Jane… “You do realize I’m not a werewolf,” she joked. Long lived the tale that werewolves were only killed with silver bullets. If they existed.
A twist in his lips told Jane he was repressing a sad smile. “Now, Jane,” he talked as if he was talking to a child, “I’m having a bad day and I don’t feel like getting blood on my hands right now. I’m going to ask one last time. How do you die?”
Silence was all there was, and Eric signaled for the guard at the door to go out. She heard the door closing without taking her eyes off of the shiny bullets on the table. She watched with terror Eric inspect the gun. Her face was a bit paler than usually, but she let not her concerns show trough her expression. She was probably going to die in a few hours, but what of that? She had eagerly wanted it while in that metal cage. She wondered what they would do to her body: would they throw her in a ditch, burn it maybe? Leave her body somewhere so that those of her race could find it?
“You know I don’t fear death,” she murmured. Her voice was low but strong and steady. She wasn’t going to lose; if Jane had to do go down, at least she would without breaking.
He laughed at her. He closed in the distance of the table that separated them and whispered, “But you see, I know you’re afraid.” He stopped and she didn’t answer. “I know you miss your home, your friends,” something inside her was heavy as iron, making it hard to breath, “… Your music.” She closed her eyes for a minute, and just like when she was alone in the dark, she could hear her own hands on the keys echo in her mind. She swallowed dry and made no point of his words.
He reached for the revolver, and Jane watched him load it. “So that’s it? You’re just going to kill me?!” She shouted at him. He was supposed to love her! Why was that her little fantasy had broken right in front of her now? He was willing to shoot her just to get what he wanted. If he was willing to harm her, then he felt nothing for her at all. Nothing… “Heartless beast,” she accused, her voice filled with despite. “I can kill you in a second,” she affirmed, her tone completely changed.
“Then why haven’t you already?” Her expression tightened as he used words that would hurt her. That was what he told her when they had met, and yet they felt so heartless she wanted to break down and cry out for help.
She couldn’t walk away, not this time. And she couldn’t bring herself to kill him, either. He could, but she did not. She clenched her right hand into a fist and then banged it on the table, leaving a big moss on it, as if had been hit several times by a hammer. “That is who I am. I can do that to your skull.”
“Yet, you haven’t.”
He had finished loading the gun now. “It wouldn’t do me any good, now would it? I couldn’t get out of this Hell anyway.”
He chuckled and then lifted the weapon. “I’m going to count to three, Jane. You’ll tell my by then, won’t you?”
She made no motion to talk.
“One.” Silence. She wouldn’t break, she could not. It was her race, her family, her friends. She would not give them all up for only her life. And what life would that be, without everyone she cared about? “Two,” his voice was rising, as he was getting angrier. “Three.” She heard the shot and expected the hit, while she only felt the bullet pass two inches away from her head and then into the wall. “That was a warning shot. There will not be another. Last call, Jane. Say it.”
Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid he might hear it, but there was no use in hiding it anymore. She was terrified and he could see it. He could see it all so very well. Jane’s hands started shaking; therefore she held them together, in an attempt to still them, under the table.
“No,” she said, raising her voice so that it was clear and impossible for it to sound as a plead.
There was bang and then it hurt. She let her hands reach up, for her stomach. She was bleeding, but just a little bit. Yet, not from the bleeding, she felt tired - it was the silver, she knew. It drained their strength, and she had small of that at the moment. She raised her gaze onto Eric, who still had the revolver aimed at her. “Save the bullets, I’ll be back. Yet, you just killed me,” she retorted at him, her voice cold and quick, “Eric.” She concluded, her eyes drifting to the door just as it opened, and the previous man that had got her from her cell walked in.
Eric got up, leaving the revolver on the table. The man glared at Jane, wondering why she wasn’t bleeding to death; there was only a small trace of blood that was now dripping down her shirt. In silence they walked her to her cell, and threw her in. She hit the floor hard, and let her lay there, in the dark. She covered her wound with her hand, getting it stained by blood. She couldn’t get the bullet out. And it hurt, more than as if she had been stabbed. It was as if someone was draining her essence, slowly. So now…
Now, she just had to wait for death to knock on her door.
