𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 {𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

thirty three: the constant bleeding

TW: mentions of blood and slight violence.

"DON'T LIE TO ME." Were the words he yelled profusely in my face before slamming his fist back into my abdomen. Every time he did, I would clasp my eyes shut as I tried to reach down to comfort the dull ache, before remembering that my arms are being restrained behind me with full force.

To be fair to the guy, he didn't let up, as a tinge of metallic made its way into my mouth. Ouch, didn't think that it would bleed like that, but whatever. I spat the blood out on the floor to the right, as I cocked my head back up to the man. He had kept going for what I presumed was about twenty minutes, as I just know my stomach will be laced with purple bruises once he stops.

The first blow hurt the most, but as he continued on, they all morphed into one and the pain just circled slowly around my body, no longer taking me by surprise. Every so often I would wince, but I tried desperately to hide it as I didn't want them to know it hurt a lot more than I showed.

Anger filled his features as he kept his fists up near his face. His followers stayed spread out around the edges of the room, watching him beat on a literal teenager, with blank expressions. No one tried to help, they just stayed completely still as they witnessed him plunge his fist into my stomach over and over and over again. The only people who appeared to be enjoying the show where the men holding me back by my arms as they would every so often laugh in my ear.

The worst part of it was that I had no idea what he was on about. He was asking questions I didn't have the answers to, which inevitably just made him angrier as he didn't believe me.

"I told you! I don't remember!" I yelled back into his face as I squirmed in the grip of the guards. "My memory was erased!" And then the pain returned, as he kneed me in the lower abdomen once again. I groaned in response as my legs thought they were about to give way. Without the vicious support of the men behind me, I definitely would have collapsed by now.

He leaned over and pulled my slumped head up in his hand, forcing me to look him in the eye. He didn't say anything as he just maintained eye contact before finally letting go of me angrily. "That doesn't make sense." He turned around annoyed as he rubbed his chin. "They wouldn't send up one of their own. You were always valuable to them."

Valuable? What the hell made me valuable?

Jorge was still turned away from me as he looked down at the floor; I don't think his words were meant for me, as instead he might have just been thinking aloud.

He continued to mumble something to himself before sharply turning around and holding the familiar knife up to me again. "So, you remember nothing? Absolutely nothing of what happened a few years back?" I furrowed my brows, showing him everything he needed to know without even opening my mouth.

He scoffed as a small laugh left his throat. "Unbelievable. I lost two-hundred men and yet you can't recall a single detail." My eyes widened at his words as he finally lifted his eyes to mine again. He lost two-hundred people? I wanted to ask how, but I think I already know the answer. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to know, as it sounds like I wouldn't come off well in the story.

That was it then. I worked with Wicked. And even though it wasn't how Thomas and Teresa had, by the sounds of it, it seemed much worse than what they were involved in.

But I did have one question though. Why would Wicked want to get rid of so many of Jorge's army like that? Well, I assume it's an army, as that's what they appear to be.

An army.

That's it. I was in their army. Wicked's army. My face must have retorted in repulsion at the idea of what I would have had to have done at such a young age.

My heart felt like it was about to fall out of my body as I pictured all the things they probably made me do. Hurt, beat, kill.

But that didn't explain why Jorge recognised me so vividly. Armies are filled with large numbers of people, so I'm sure I wasn't the only one in there; the idea that he would remember every single person involved was insane, so why did I jog his memory?

He was about to speak again, but I didn't care. "What was my role?" I blurted, obviously cutting him off as he looked back at me annoyed. "What did I do that was so significant it made it easy for you to pick me out of a crowd?" I asked seriously, as his expression went confused, but then quickly turned up into a smirk. He took joy from the fact that I had no previous recollection of my life before, and if anything, that just pissed me off.

"I'll have someone else tell you that, hermana." He said as he moved closer, clearly loving the idea of him knowing more about me than I did. "You've told me all you know, which is sadly nothing." The man laughed in my face as the others around the room chuckled along with him. He turned slowly back to face them again, "Take her to the others, make sure she doesn't try anything." He raised his eyebrows at me but remained facing towards the guards.

"We don't want a repeat of last time."

--

Newt's POV:

She had been in there a long time and my concern for her grew with every passing minute. What could Jorge want with her? He just met Y/n after all, why would he be so interested in her all of a sudden?

I think Thomas could sense my discomfort, even as we all hung upside down from the ceiling, the feeling unsurprisingly, making me feel sick.

Why was she not back yet? What was he doing to her? And what had happened three years ago? The thoughts spun around and looped over each other in my mind before finally, something broke me out of my trance, making me sigh with relief at the sight.

The door opened to my left, as Y/n was shoved aggressively through while being held onto by two large guards. If that wasn't enough, another two men trailed closely behind them, also holding weapons as they shot hot glares at her.

They were about four inches over the threshold as they threw her to the floor, causing her to stumble onto the ground, but luckily catching herself with her hands. "She's all yours." The man spat as he shoved her over to the singular guard we had watching over us.

In response she said nothing, just narrowed her eyes and displayed her anger through her facial expressions. The men chuckled slightly together before turning to leave as I heard Thomas' voice behind me.

"Y/n..." Was all he said as I furrowed my brows. His voice sounded frightened, which confused me at first, but as she stood, the exact same feeling washed over me.

She was bleeding. A lot. God, why was she always bleeding?

The blood was smudged over the lower half of her face as it appeared most of the fluid had arisen from her mouth. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but then I remembered I was upside down and hanging from a collapsing ceiling.

The lone guard grabbed her by the arm roughly as she didn't even try to fight back. That alone was surprising, as I knew she was definitely not afraid of putting up a fight when necessary. But as I watched her being dragged from the floor, blood gushing from her face, she looked nothing but exhausted.

A twinge of pain erupted from my heart as anger threatened to boil over. How dare he do that? To her, of all people? She didn't deserve it.

She looked so beaten down and hurt, as the only thing that lingered in my mind was that I couldn't go over and help her.

Just that thought hurt a lot more than I'd care to admit.