Patience & Faith - a journey series #1 | ✔

15: Wounds

"Trapped in her wounds and his old scars, they fight for a new beginning and an old stop."

Continued...

The chaos began...

Shouts rang out like sharp knives in the air. Slow but vibrant electronic currents shot through the two like two yearning souls. In all the bang-bang, the shoving, and the thirst to kill, the two spouses watched each other with so much want it was shocking. They were two worlds apart, yet after so much time far from each other's detesting presence, they forgot how to control their overwhelming feelings. His green eyes clashed with her hazel ones. Her once warm, bright eyes now showed nothing, her lifeless eyes bloodshot and tired. She looked to be as if she didn't recognize him, she didn't because the Musa she knew was not one to save her from this nightmare. A quick gasp escaped her chapped lips. Dry, burning tears fell discreetly down her dry skin. Was he here to save her, or was he part of this kidnapping like his wife and father? She blinked once. She missed his presence, his smell. She could smell his cologne from his position to hers. His powerful figure making everything so small and meaningless. His green emeralds showed a mixture of emotions, but above all that she could see and sense immense rage. His veins protruding from his skin crazily, the stillness of his body was going to show how mad he was soon. Hoor didn't know what to feel or say so she watched silently from her position on the floor. She felt small and utterly alone even though he was here she felt this to be a cruel dream. Dizziness overcoming her, she slowly leaned back on the wall with half-opened eyes and watched her man step one foot into the room amidst the ballistic atmosphere. Blackness took over her weak senses before that she saw the last of Musa.

He didn't know what to feel or say either. He wanted to rip the monsters apart for what they dared to do with her. His body buzzed with tremendous anger but he stayed rooted on his spot watching the life go out of her lifeless body. She was not the Hoor he sadly knew, she was something beyond that. Her eyes empty of any emotion watched him, she gave nothing but strange vibes. It irked him more to the edge, he was being filled with balsamic rage. Ripping his gaze from her closed eyes he stepped forward knowing sheiks men were dealing fine with the guards the kidnappers left behind, he let his sharp eyes roam over her petite, fragile form. His heart twisted in natural agony. Her abaya was ripped into shreds as were her clothes under the black material. What was once a peach-colored gown was now a marred gray rag? Her honey shaded hair that once fell off her shoulders like silk now fell like dirty cobwebs. Her milky skin dirty with days in prison along with red, blue, and purple marks and bruises scared her skin. Every step he took hurt him inside out, he didn't know why, but he had to keep going. As he neared her, he saw more clearly. The kidnappers did a toll on her. Eye bags hung low under her once doe-like eyes, her rosy lips now white and chapped. The marks going down her neck from her face showed how much they had tortured her.

"They hit her!" He roared in pure rage. It startled everyone fighting in the room. Just for a second they stopped and glanced at his shaking form.

"They touched her!" He yelled, but this time connected his eyes with sheiks men! There was no human behind this vicious man, his soul mad at what he just witnessed.

The men growled and started their firing, beating, and questioning. Musa turned back and gazed at her. Leaning down he laid his hands in the middle of her back and under her legs to pick her up when she winced in pain even in deep sleep. Trying to pick her up without hurting her again a moan escaped her chapped lips making Musa worried furthermore. Moving his hand up her back, he found how her clothes were shredded so much to where her skin was open for the outside. A growl rumbled deep inside of him. Sitting her up his gaze landed on the deep red marks that still bled from the attack she faced. Slashes of red marred her once milky skin. She was beaten into a pulp and that was far worse than what he imagined. Bile rose in his throat. She winced when his finger grazed her open wounds. It looked as if claws had scraped her back deeply. Her flesh could be seen, and it sickened him immensely.