RDR2: Faithless

12: Even Darkness Must Pass

I woke up to O'Driscoll's surrounding me, laughing at me.

"Hello, sugar," one laughed, "You ain't dead is you?"

"Not yet!" Another yelled, bringing his foot down on my leg. I heard an unhealthy noise and screamed in agony, groaning as more punches rained down on me, I blacked out again.

I came to again, the O'Driscolls having made camp. I was a bit away from them, giving me a perfect opportunity.

"Will they fall for it?" I heard one ask as I started to crawl away. I was in agony, but I needed to get as far away as possible.

I managed to pull myself up and half ran, half limped as fast as I could.

"She's escaping!" One yelled and a shot went off, embedding itself in my bad leg.

I collapsed in agony as they advanced on me, laughing mercilessly.

"Did I kill ya?" One asked.

"Oh, not yet," I groaned.

"Not yet, but I will," another shot went off in my shoulder, and I was blinded with pain, the whole world going dark again.

I woke up on the back of a horse, facing down into a river we were passing through. The rocking motion sent shockwaves of pain through my body, and I didn't stay awake long enough to even try to escape.

The next time I came to, I was hanging upside down in a basement, agony covering my whole body. I fought the urge to scream, to yell. I knew it would be no use, Colm O'Driscoll was no fool. If I was left with the ability to speak, it meant I was not within earshot of anybody who would help me.

The basement door was thrown open, and Colm walked down with a plate of stew, eating happily. It was then I felt the gnawing feeling in my stomach. Great, not only was I in agony, but they were starving me too. How long had it been since I was caught?

I was gasping with pain, I could feel the blood rushing to my head. 

"Ann Wright," he was horribly close to my face, "It's good to see ya."

"Hello, Colm," I replied, coughing harshly.

"How's the wound?" he asked, taking a spoonful of his stew.

"I hardly feel it," I lied.

"You will," he reached forward and pressed down into it, causing me to yell in agony, "Septic. It ain't nice. Now, tell me. Fine gun like you, why you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money."

"It ain't about the money, Colm," I forced out.

"Oh no, it's Dutch's famous charisma," he set his stew down on the table, picking up a long, rope-like object, before kicking me in the side, "You killed a whole bunch of my boys at Six Point Cabin."

"I ain't got no clue what you talking about," I groaned.

"Oh, you lie, my friend," he laughed, "And I thought Dutch preached truth."

"Let me go, Colm," I said, my voice strained, "And end all this crap between you two. We all got real problems now."

"The way I see it," he said, playing with the object in his hands, "They get him, they forget about me."

"They ain't the forgetting sort," I said, laughing breathily, "If I were you, I'd run as soon as I had the money."

"Oh, I know you would," he laughed too, "But, you see. We lure an angry Dutch in to rescue ya, grab all of ya and hand ya in, then disappear."