His Barista - Soap MacTavish Coffee Shop AU

18

The metallic scent of her own dried blood was what kept her grounded in this moment, subconscious desperately trying to hold on, to keep sane when everything else was screaming at her to let go, to let her mind drift elsewhere to alleviate the torture.

This was all a mind game. Days and days of knives and red hot coat hangers piercing her perfect pale skin, then more days where she'd hear not one little thing from her captors; not even to toss her a half empty bottle of water like they'd usually done each night. It was so quiet that sometimes she would cover her ears with the palms of her hands to quiet the sound of her own breathing, but she couldn't do that with the rhythmic thrum of her heart. So she started counting it.

1... 2... 1... 2...

Two numbers she repeated in her head, chanting a mantra. A reminder that she was still alive, that Johnny would be looking for her by now. Although maybe it wasn't a reminder, but a silent hope. Or... she didn't know anymore. Her mind was gradually becoming more and more blank as the days go by, whatever thoughts she had were scrambled and confusing, like an inaudible stutter.

Perhaps it was the vodka they force fed her making her like this; an easy way to keep her weak and almost delirious with the false promise of water afterwards — which would be a lie some days and cause the nausea in her belly to purge the lining of her stomach out onto the floor, no food in her stomach to withstand it.

***

The door to Elsie's cell opens with an almost deafening creek, a sound that enlists fear into every crevasse of her body and raises goosebumps. She never moves from the ground though. Cheek pressed against the concrete, red and raw from being in that same position for longer than she cared, Elsie didn't even bother to open her eyes.

She hears him sigh. She knows he's fed up with her lack of reaction, though that doesn't convince her enough to comply with his expectations.

"Elsie..." He trails off mockingly before clicking his tongue. "I thought you knew better than this. Get up."

His voice echoes around the room and Elsie grimaces, hating the way his tone of voice was almost soothing to her; it was smooth but laced with an evil she'd never heard before, not even from her estranged mother.

There was only a few mere seconds of eerie silence before he steps forward and bends down. His fist had already gripped her hair at the scalp before she could even react, yanking her upward as she yelped out in pain, finally opening her eyes as he holds her level with his face. His eyes narrow and teeth baring like a rabid mutt was enough to put the fear of God in her, despite knowing this was only the beginning.

"Losing hope? Finally realising that nobody is coming for you?" He mocks her, wanting so desperately to elicit a reaction, even just a small grimace to feed his hunger.

Elsie pans her eyes to meet his, irises swallowed by his pupils.

"I can't wait to see it..." She baits him. He only raises a brow, but it's enough recognition for her to continue. "You dead on the ground. Bullet through your head. And I'll stand over your corpse as I spit onto it, YOU SICK FU—"

The sound of Elsie's head bouncing off the concrete walls echoed around them as he tosses her aside in anger, though now he's oddly satisfied with her answer.

Shes clutching the side of her head with both hands, cradling it like a delicate newborn as she whines in agony. Waves and waves of sharp pain stabbing so far into her brain she was sure he'd split her head open.

Despite the almost blinding ringing in her ears she could hear him laughing at her before he kicked his steel capped boots into her ribs. She choked out a sob and covered her head better with her hands as she rather the assault on her ribs to protect her skull.

"I've told you countless times. If you wish for this to stop— for your suffering to stop... all you have to do is tell us who's in Captain MacTavish's squad, and why they're sticking their noses into things that don't concern them."

Elsie shakes her head urgently.

"I don't know! I don't know what they're doing! I don't know anything!" She pleads.

The man scoffs and mutters something in Arabic before speaking up again.

"Looks like you need some time to think about your answer," He says and turns for the door. "The next time I ask and you give me nothing, I'll give you that silence you crave. Forever."

The creak of the door and the slam as it closes was the loudest it's ever been after his promise was voiced.