ROGUE

17 : 9524

Your POV

Waiting.
Sounds easy right?

My mother had taught me all about patience.
'All good things come to those who wait.' She would say.

I was good at waiting...

Except when it came down to waiting for an answer of life or death.

I clenched my bedsheets in my fists, listening to the rhythmic peeping of the machine next to me.
It was the rhythm of my heartbeat; fast and steady.
After all this shit, I was surprised my heart still worked.

I searched for Jason's face in my mind.
Not the face that was a bloody mess, nose smashed and eyes almost shut and swelling,
But the face who was my Jason;
From his unblemished skin, to his autumn coloured eyes and his soft lips.
I missed the way his lips felt against mine.
I missed the way he touched me.

I missed him.

Anxiety settled in my stomach as I thought of Jake, Josh, Matt and Alara. If they had failed to steal an agent card, it was the end of the road for Jason.

They had all set off to find one.
That was two hours ago.

I tried to drown out my worries by watching a film, but it was no use.
Instead, I imagined breaking Jason out of this shit hole and finally being together with him again.
The thought of any sort of physical contact with him made my skin tingle.

Tonight, we would use the card to access the elevator, then we would sink down to the bottom floor, find our way to Jason's door through the maze of corridors, then we would swipe the stolen card, punch in the combination and open the door.
Then Jason will suddenly realise that we're saving him, we'll scan the card and Jason's shackles will open.
Freeing him.
After that, we will help him escape and get out of this place.
Finally, we will be together again.

The thought of our plan lulled me to sleep.
I couldn't be tired for tonight.
Tonight, I had to be one-hundred-percent focused.

Jason's life depended on it.

--------------

Jason's POV

I was unaware.
I was unaware of the time.
I was unaware of the day.
I was unaware of the month.
I was unaware of how long I had been here.

My body was struggling to recover, and the damage seemed unrepairable.
I was going to die weak.

The thought made my stomach flip.
I remembered how I used to be and tears welled in my eyes.
Now, I was a wounded soldier.
Finally giving up the lifelong battle I had been fighting.
The four men left me alone around two or three hours ago, they hadn't yet returned, so I assumed it was night.
My guesses were confirmed when the lights suddenly switched off.

The beating I had received earlier was by far the worst.
They had used my already-shutting-down body as a punching bag.
I yelled at them when their fists connected with my face.
I told them I didn't care.
I don't care anymore.

The hardest thing about dying slowly is that you have so much time to think.
You think too much about the people you care about, and then you have to accept the fact that you're never going to see them again.