Living In Infamy

Chapter Sixteen- Colby

Three weeks. That's how long we've been here. Three weeks and all they've done is psychologically tortured the two of us. They wanted to know my name, the agency I worked for, who my superior was, the whole thing. They asked (Y/n) the questions too, but she didn't have the answers like I did. I was the government agent, not her.

I could handle the torture. Not her.

I got pulled out of my train of thought when the door to our room creaked open. A waft of fresh air flushed the musty smell away from us for less than a second before it slammed shut again.

The man circled us like a predator. "Going to talk yet Brock? What about you Ms. Smith? Are you ready to tell us who you work for?"

"I told you," (Y/n) gasped. "I don't work for anyone. I'm a freelance musician."

"Still with the lies," the man tutted. "Surely after so long together we know each other well enough. Where do you work Ms. Smith?"

"She already told you, you absolute fucking walnut," I mumbled under my breath.

The man turned on his heel and sent a hard kick to my diaphragm. I folded in on myself like a stack of cards.

"Colby!" (Y/n) yelped as my breath came in short rasps. Another yelp came from behind me and I knew he kicked (Y/n).

I rolled onto my back and saw that man holding (Y/n) up by the collar of her shirt.

"Just tell me what I want to know, sweetheart. Either that, or my friends might want in. And they won't be as nice as I am." He dragged a hand down (Y/n)'s face, making her squirm.

Despite being out of breath, I kicked him in the back of the knees. He howled and dropped (Y/n) before turning back to me.

"You waste of a human being," he scowled and kicked me in the ribs. "You just don't know when to quit, do you? Always trying to be the hero."

Each sentence sent a kick hitting somewhere else on my body. The pain made me curl up, exposing my back. More kicks were landed there, definitely leaving ugly bruises. The kicks stopped suddenly with a grunt from our kidnapper.

"Stay away from him," (Y/n) growled as she tried to pin him down.

"You little bitch!" he howled, already fighting back. "You want my friends to come in here? Sure they'll love that little body of yours."

(Y/n) still grappled with him, but her eyes widened slightly. She was scared. This psycho had been threatening about his friends raping her, but now he seemed like he might actually do it.

I rolled onto my side so I could help her, but a cry cut me short. I turned to face the struggle and saw blood trickling down (Y/n)'s forehead. He grazed her with a knife.

"Now you've done it," he growled, inching closer.

I clambered up, ignoring the pain in my limbs to stop him from getting to her.

"Back off you bastard."

Our torturer growled before staring at (Y/n) and giving her a perverted smile.

"See you later, sweetheart."

Once the door shut, I dropped to (Y/n)'s side and pulled her into a tight hug.

"C-Colby, I'm scared."

"Shh," I whispered, pulling her closer. "I won't let anything happen to you. They won't get to you as long as I'm here."

I stayed hugging her all night, letting her fall asleep in my arms. It was the first time she's slept more than an hour or two for weeks. As promised, I kept an ear out for anyone coming close. No one came near our room that night.

In the early hours of what I thought was the morning, a few steps of footsteps came toward our room. I tried my best to wake (Y/n) up without jolting her awake. She woke up a moment before the door swung open.

Three of them stood in the doorway.

(Y/n) clung to me tighter, fearing the worst. I kept her in my arms, ready to protect her from any harm that would come our way. The man in the middle motioned for his buddies to grab us and I just pulled (Y/n) in tighter, if that was even possible at this point. They grabbed her by the arms and tried to pull her away.

"Just give us the girl, Brock," our usual torturer sneered.

"Not on your life," I growled at him. In retaliation, he walked behind me and kicked me squarely between the shoulder blades. I groaned, but still held tightly to (Y/n). I wasn't going to let her go.

When (Y/n) yelped, I looked over and saw one of the men pulling her hair. She twisted around in my arms, trying to get the jackass to let go. I gave him a sharp elbow to the sternum, making him gasp for air. Goon number two came up after, and grabbed onto (Y/n)'s arms. Before I could do anything, the guy who was still behind me knocked me in the head with something heavy. I let go of (Y/n) as I crumpled to the ground.

"Colby!" (Y/n) shrieked as I fell. I just lay on the ground, too stunned to move.

"Good one, Connor!" the one guy yelled. Connor must be the leader of this group, then.

The man I had elbowed came back over and kept (Y/n) from thrashing around in an attempt to escape. At least, I think it was the one I elbowed. Everything was fuzzy around the edges of my vision but I saw those two getting close to (Y/n). Over my dead body.

I lunged at them, tripping over my feet. Still, I managed to tackle one to the ground. When I tried to stand up, my body refused to work properly. I nearly tripped and fell on my face. On instinct, I closed my eyes and did my best to find my next target. When I did come into contact with someone, they immediately started fighting.

"Colby!" (Y/n) yelled, much closer to me than before. I must have the other guy I didn't tackle. I did my best to subdue his struggling, but he wouldn't stop. "Colby!" (Y/n) yelled again. "Let go of me!"

I opened my eyes to find (Y/n) underneath me and not one of the kidnappers. I got off of her and went for another swing at the guy still by her. He pulled out a knife and tried to stab me with it. I dodged the blade and grabbed his hand. I pulled his hand up to my mouth and bit down. Hard. He screamed as the copper taste of blood filled my mouth. I spit out what I could and picked the knife up from the ground. I was ready to go for another attack when something sparked pain the whole way up my leg.

Connor held a smoking gun. I didn't even hear it fire.

"That's enough, Brock. You claim you're protecting Ms. Smith, but look what you've done to her?"

I looked at the girl I swore to protect and my heart nearly stopped. She had a black eye, a bleeding lip, and the bottom half of her shirt was ripped badly. The knife dropped. Had I really done that to her?

I slowly sank to my knees, regret washing over me like the tide. I hurt her. I did all this to her.

"You're a disgrace, Brock. You assaulted her."

"I, I didn't mean to," I stuttered out. "I just wanted to protect her." He was right. I was a disgrace. If I did this to (Y/n), what else would I be capable of?

Connor reloaded his gun and aimed it at me again. I did nothing but stare at him, guilt choking me. Looking up at the man about to kill me I realized something. I wasn't the hero in this story. I was the villain. And no one would mourn when I was gone. They would dance and sing on my grave. I didn't even try to stop him when he cocked the pistol in his hand. Not like I should even bother trying. I shouldn't be allowed to live. I was a monster.

That sentence played over and over in my head. I was a monster. I hurt (Y/n) after I promised I'd keep her safe. Maybe I was better off dead.

The gun fired and pain erupted in my chest. My body succumbed to gravity. I heard (Y/n) scream my name as I fell. I felt someone grab my hand. I wouldn't be able to hurt (Y/n) anymore. Finally she would be safe.