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Also, did he call me ‘rough’?
If I didn’t have a gag in my mouth, I’d spit on him.
He jerks me roughly forward, and I brace, expecting cold air. The early morning light, and subsequent air, however, is cool but not terrible. Clearly, we’re not high in the Italian Alps anymore.
But that seems like a really big problem.
How did I get here, when I fell asleep in Marco’s arms just moments ago. Or so it seems.
That’s all I remember, anyway.
He pulls me forward, then leans down to cut the bonds on my ankles, and I grunt, a fissure of pain shooting through me as I go. I’m desperately trying to figure out where I am and what’s going on as he tugs me forward.
All I can come up with is that I’m on the outskirts of some big city, and it’s… big.
The signs nearby look like they’re in German. I don’t think we’re in Germany though. The last time I was in Germany everything just felt… grey.
He drags me down toward a warehouse. I know instinctively that I can’t get into that warehouse. I just can’t do it.
If I do, bad things will happen.
So, I pull a classic move and I…
Flop.
Dead weight is always a good way to make sure that someone isn’t going to have an easy time with you.
The man curses, in a language that sounds like… Greek?
Greek.
“Get up,” he snaps at me.
I hold my hands up, letting my eyes water like I’m in pain. Like I’m someone who can’t fight for myself.
If he comes closer, and I’m on the ground, I can use his weight to pull him down…
He leans in.Yes.
Even with my hands bound, I grab him and fling him onto the ground, using my body to pull myself up.
The man grunts, but I’m up. My hands might be bound but I’m running forward, and I duck into an alley.
The man is close behind me. In the pre-dawn light, it’s easy to find me, so I keep going.
Streets weave past me, and I don’t know where I am. I’m blindly charging forward, until I spot something…
There.
A shop.
I’m almost there. Feet away. When something hits me.
Greek cursing again. I’m quite sure that he’s calling me a bitch, but I don’t care.
I’m not going to die like this.
I fight like a cat, scratching with my nails and kicking aimlessly. The man roars at me, and I keep going. If he’s hurt, it’s working.