Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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It was many hours later when Carlos awoke to the rough hands of two of Bennett's henchmen as they dragged him from the comfort of his resting place. He was now alone, Selene had long since departed with the new dawn to seek the shelter and protection of her secret, high places. Leaving him to rest in his bed of rank, badly cured furs.
The injured slave grunted in great pain as the pair of uncaring men extricated him from his hiding place. Causing fresh blood to issue forth from some of his deeper cuts. The bright daylight searing his vision. His only ruling desire to retreat to some dark place like a wounded animal, to lick his wounds and recover, until he could bear to function again.
His struggles to resist the men's strong grip were futile, further aggravating his many injuries, and he could barely feel his fettered hands, just the sensation of numbness which panicked him. A feeling of nausea and incredible weakness robbed him of the will for further resistance. Just as Carlos believed the pain could get no worse, he screamed as he was hauled upright to his nerveless feet, with his knees threatening to buckle beneath him, and once again the mercy of unconsciousness closed in.
Raissa tearily observed all, standing but a few short paces from her broken and beaten lover. The sight wrenching her heart. Bennett had ordered her to see what could be done, and with that came the relief that her beloved was indeed still alive. Her buoyant hopes however soon died as she sighted his horrific injuries. The beating had been delivered with savage precision, designed to break the spirit and demand future compliance.
Raissa was an expert healer, and she sadly knew that her love would bear the scars from this experience for the rest of his days. Dutifully she followed the warriors to Bennett's abode, where the unconscious man was placed unceremoniously on the floor, next to the mattress. Then the two men retreated after removing the handcuffs. Though not so far as to not hear and observe anything of interest that transpired between the two. Sven's instruction she was sure.
Raissa knelt beside him her eyes appraising him closely, the bruising was extensive, the myriad of grazes and cuts would in time heal. Though some would require sutures. However of most concern to her was his shallow, pained breathing. All her healing experience told her that something was amiss inside. She began with warm water, cutting loose the blood soaked shirt, removing his worn boots and faded jeans. Gently sponging away the clotted blood and filth that mottled his tanned skin. Lovingly she brushed the hair from his eyes, it too was dirty and matted with dried blood.
During this, much to her surprise and wonder she felt the first stirrings of the growing life inside, and she sat silently for some moments focusing within. Yes, it would be his she thought with conviction, and she was determined she would give this child of their forbidden love a better life. Though she knew not how.
Back she went to her work realizing ruefully that this would now be her only probable chance to caress his familiar, handsome body, saddening her deeply. Crying within that the physical love they shared could be no more. She would have to endure as though nothing had happened between them, with her love continuing his existence here, as a beaten, lowly slave, freedoms gone and his pride as well. Bennett would see to that.
