Nothing Could Fall

Dover Beach

Alicia groans in pain as her eyes struggle to open. The harsh light of day sears through her aching skull as she tries to sit up. Her body protests stubbornly, and she wills her eyes to focus on her surroundings. Her hands are bound above her, a thick rope attached to the drainpipe of a sink. There are two double beds in the adjacent room and a small desk in the corner. Generic art hangs on the unfinished wood planks above the beds. It must be a hotel room, perhaps a cabin of sorts.

Using all the strength she can muster, Alicia sits up fully, ignoring the throbbing pain in her temple. She glances down to see all her weapons removed, and she can't even feel her balisong in her boot anymore. She gives the open room one more scan and sighs in relief when she finds the space empty of another living soul. One less thing to worry about.

She gives her restraints a firm tug, grunting as the strain of her muscles burns as fiercely as pain in her wrists. She stops for a moment, allowing her body a minute to rest before she pulls again. Her second attempt is cut short as the doorknob rattles before it slowly turns.

"Ah, you're awake. Good," Proctor John nods as he approaches slowly. He rests his hand on the revolver on his waist as he comes to a stop a few feet in front of her. "You keep surprising me. You and your blonde friend, well, redheaded friend, I suppose. Whose idea was it to change your hair? It was yours, wasn't it?"

Alicia doesn't respond verbally, but she lowers her jaw and purses her lips in annoyance. "Smart. Bought you some time. Not that it did you any good in the long run."

"What do you want?" Alicia finally speaks, her voice cold and hard.

"What we all want. Power. You and your family, your little friend included, have caused people to question my power. And I can't have that. I once told you that civilization is born from violence. Do you remember?" He asks poignantly. Alicia keeps her face still but gives a small shrug in confirmation. "Good," Proctor John smirks. "You're going to help me prove that point."

"What are you talking about?" She spits, her eyes narrow in frustration.

"You're my example, Alicia," he takes another step forward and squats down to her eye level. John pauses a moment, locking his eyes with Alicia's. His voice remains calm and slow. "I'm going to show them what happens when someone crosses me. So rest up, sweetheart. You get to watch your precious Elyza die in the morning. And after that, we'll find your family, and then you'll get to watch them die too."

Proctor John stands to his full height and offers a small smile before turning his back to Alicia. She huffs through her nose, her hatred for the man bubbling to the surface as he reaches the door. He opens the door and takes one step out before he calls back over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Alicia, they won't be merciful deaths. Gotta make it memorable, you see."

When the sound of Proctor John's light footsteps fades away, Alicia throws her head back against the wall under the sink in frustration. Tears burn behind her eyes at the thought of that man putting an end to her Elyza, and it's all her fault. She's the reason they came to Tombstone. Elyza warned her that it was too good to be true. She was right. Again. Good things just don't happen, and now Alicia sits bound and restrained to a goddamn sink while Elyza is suffering who knows what, who knows where until the morning when they'll kill her slowly.

The image of the life slowly draining from those beautiful blue eyes sears in Alicia's brain, and she doesn't fight the tears any longer. They fall silent and fat down her cheeks until there are no more left to shed. She moves her arm awkwardly to wipe away the evidence of her despair when her breath catches in her throat.