I Feel It In My Bones (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Double Crossed: Part Four

You were moved to a cell not long after Graves had gone to apprehend Ghost and Soap. You were escorted by two Shadows, tall and lean, they grip like vices around your upper arms Though your hands remained tied, you struggled in their hold, swearing and grunting and resisting all you could. Each step felt like a nail being driven into the coffin of your freedom. But they only looked down at you with pity with each futile attempt, and your stomach rolled at the sight.

You hated pity.

Pity was for the weak. You were paranoid, nauseated, and scared, but you sure as hell weren't weak.

The cell door was constructed of reinforced metal and swung open slowly to reveal your new living space. They all but thrust you into the confined quarters, causing you to stumble on your tired feet. A set of hands kept you upright, but barely, tugging you backwards so that you stood by the cell door. Facing the plain wall opposite, you felt movements around your wrists as one of the Shadows released you from the rope that tied your arms together.

To demonstrate how grateful you were to have full use of your arms, you spun around and threw a fist out, hitting the closest Shadow square in the face. The blow landed with a satisfying crunch and the man recoiled with a howl, clutching his bleeding nose. 'Fucking whore!'

For the first time that day, you smiled. It was a sick, twisted smile - the type that was both sincere and insincere at the same time. There was menace in your eyes, an invitation for a fight. But despite the satisfaction of landing a solid punch, you knew that escape was still a distant hope. The second Shadow pulled the bleeding one away from the cell, and the door slammed shut in your face so hard the walls shook. Through the small window centred on the door, you could see blood smearing the face and fists of the man you had punched.

You flexed your hand, feeling the split skin over your knuckles roll as you did so.

The pain didn't satisfy you as much as it should have.

'Graves said not to lay a hand on her, man,' you heard the other Shadow say from the other side, his voice muted by the thick door and walls.

'She broke my fucking nose,' the man you had punched growled the protest loud enough for you to hear.

Fire ignited in your chest. 'You're lucky I didn't do more than that, fuckin' traitors!' you yelled. You knew that they would hear it - part of you wanted them to come back. You wanted to shout, scream, throw another punch if you could. You didn't care if they went against Graves' orders and hurt you in return.

Right now, you would welcome it.

Your rage was as confined within you as much as you were within the four walls of your cell. Your blood was running hot, your teeth bared and ready to bite. A narrow cot stood in one corner of the cell, and a tray of food lay on top - an apple, sandwich, and plastic cup of water had never looked so unappealing. You threw the tray against the door with full force - the food smashed and fell to the floor in a rotten heap, and there was a sharp splintering sound as the plastic tray cracked.

But nobody came, and you were left in furious silence.

Eventually, over what could have been hours or minutes, the adrenaline rush ebbed away, replaced by a quiet determination. You settled on the cot provided, the surface uncomfortable and rigid beneath you. The thin mattress was covered by a scratchy, thin blanket that you wrapped around your shoulders.

With your muscles tense and your eyes locked on the door to the room, you were determined to stay awake. However, fatigue crept in insidiously, weighing down your eyelids. You guessed the sedative used on your earlier was still having an effect on you.