Chapter 9: Isabelle

I don’t know what’s going on, on the outside of my prison but over the last hour I have heard people shuffling around talking in hushed whispers with words that I can’t actually hear. Its just like when the wind blows you can hear it but not understand. What I can understand that something big is going on. The air so thick I could cut it with a rushed dulled butter knife. I try to keep myself calm so that I don’t miss anything that could clue me in to what is going on outside so that I can be prepared for anything that is about to happen, there is no if, only when at this point. Something had happened that has caused the pot to boil over.

Suddenly I hear the banging of a door in the distance slamming into a wall followed by the sounds of heavy foot falls coming towards my cell. I slowly straighten up, putting my feet under me to slide myself up the wall.

“Open the fucking door.” A man with what I believe is a thick Irish accents commands the guard who I didn’t know what standing at the door, what follows is the sounds of jerky movement of someone who tries to put a key in the lock. After a good bit of struggling, he gets the door unlocked just as I manage to stand, the door swings open and the darkness creeps in.

This is it. This is where you die.

The darkness whispers in my ears. But I learned long ago not to fear it. It is just part of me no different than any other part. I stand straight and lift my head to the door as he comes storming in.

The man that comes through the door looks down at the offerings of food and pills. As he looks at that, I use the time to take a look at him. He is taller, easily, over six and half feet tall. Wearing dark wash jeans and a light blue buttoned down shirt with an older leather jacket, all the clothes are stretched over the mountain of muscle that makes up this man. His build is that of a boxer, someone who has spent years honing their body into a weapon. The next thing notices the silver chain that holds a Celtic looking knot at the end. So Irish was correct, I think has I counite looking him over. I reach his sharp jaw line, which is ticking in what I assume is irritation, its heavily dotted with deep red stubble, like he couldn’t have been bothered to shave today. As I follow the line, I see his hair is also the same deep red with some strands that look more like fire, its disheveled like he has been running his hand through it all day. His head snaps up quick and I see the eyes so blue that they could easily be mistaken for the ice caps in the north. Yet the pale blue seems to have a fire burning brightly. I can see it clearly, more clearly than anything I have seen before. They are so bright they pierce right through the darkness of my mind.

My already ragged breath hitches and I gasp. Suddenly his eye shift to something I don’t understand, and I don’t have any amount of time to try and decipher what it is because he crosses the room towards me faster than any man his size should be able to move. He grabs my right arm as I try to extend it to keep him away. The touch sends a shock wave through me. It is something I have never felt and has me so stunned that I can’t even put up a fight as he spins me to put my chest a few inches from the wall. It isn’t until I hear the click of a knife that my brain registers to fight. I start bucking. Trying to get him to loosen his grip and not hurt myself worse than I already am.

“If you don’t stop flopping around like a damn fish, I’ll wind up slitting you open.” He accents washes over me as I forced to still. I can either let him take what he wants and maybe live another day, or I can die here in this cell. He begins to unzip the back of the dress and I start to slip into that place in my brain where nothing matters.

Only to be brought back to the here and now at the sound of the lace being cut and the dress rezipped. I greedily suck in breath after breath, filling my lungs to the point that they fill like they might exploded. I hear the click of the knife closing and the man step away from me. He freed me from the confines of the corset. I am sure I will have bruises from the boning but at least now I can breathe properly. I slowly turn back to face him. Even more confused now than I was before. I stare at him as he stares at me. Neither of us saying anything to each other with words, but both wordlessly trying to figure the other out.

I don’t know how long we stand there until someone else walks in. I don’t take my eyes off the man in front of me. He moves too quickly, and I want to see if he changes his mind.

“Mr. O ’Gallagher.” I hear the doctor voice from before. My eyebrows shoot up as the last name registers in my brain. O’ Gallagher. The head of the Irish mob, my husband’s biggest enemy. That’s who standing in front of me Liam O’ Gallagher “What’s seems to the problem?” he asks.

“The problem is you left her in here breathing like that with a fucking corset, and you neglected to tell me exactly how bad the arm was. Look at it. Its all black and blue!” he spins and all but roars at the doctor. The confusion just keeps piling on. Why would he care?

“Boss I did tell you it was bad. I also told you I didn’t know if breathing was from something she was wearing, jury or panic. We couldn’t get close to her to tell.”

“I had no issue.” He sneers at the Carson. I stay silent but he doesn’t miss the flinch or the fact I push myself closer to the wall. He exhales and turns back to me.

“You haven’t ate anything or taken the pills.” I just look down at the food and back up to him. He stares at me like he is waiting an answer. But I say nothing.

“She is breathing better I see.” Laim looks back at the doctor to speak.

“Yes, well that’s what happens when you cut open a corset that was way to tight and on for way to long.” He then turns back to me with a look of disgust. Speaking, saying something in a language I don’t understand under his breath. He steps towards me, and I turn my face and close my eyes expecting the worst. Only nothing comes, I don’t even hear his moving. When I crack my eyes open, I see he has stopped his advancing. He still looks at me has he begins to speaks to me.

“Isabelle, you don’t have many options here. One of two things are going to happen.” There is weird softness to his voice that causes me to meet his eyes straight on. “Either you let the doctor sent your arm and check the collar bone. Or you allow it to get worse until the blood flow is damaged and well, I am pretty sure you can guess what happens then.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happens. No blood means tissue dies. I look down at my hand which has long since gone numb. And I can see the fingers are in fact slowly growing darker. I look back up to Laim as I slide down to the floor. Id rather not die from a gangrenous limb hanging from my body. I slowly use my other hand to slip it out of the sling and look at the doctor. They must get that I will allow him to fit it because a small smirk crosses Liams face as they both approach me.

“Good girl.” Those word for the first time in my life don’t cause my skin to crawl.