FIC: "Happy birthday, my slave," 1/3 (Amita/OMC, Amita/Charlie, implied Charlie/Colby, R)
A new side story to The Connections Series, just to we have a complete panorama of what's been going on in this series. :) Just like in "Not thinking about you," I'm presenting you a story about Amita. This time it's about the horrible time she had while she was kidnapped by my OMC-Patrick Garner.
Enjoy. I would love it if you could tell me what you think. Reader's opinion is absolutely important to me. :)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY SLAVE, Part 1/3
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Title: “Happy birthday, my slave,” Part 1/3
Characters/pairings: Amita/OMC, Amita/Charlie, implied Charlie/Colby (overall)
Genre: Het/Slash
Rating: R for violence.
Spoilers: 4.11 “Breaking point”
Summary: Amita gets kidnapped by someone she used to love.
A/N: This is a fic inspired by the latest challenge on the n3_challenge community, “Amita’s birthday.” This story is related to The Connections Series written by me, and takes place during chapters 1 to 4. Anyways, I needed to torture Amita a little more. I promise this is the last time… if I don’t have another idea. ;) I'm sharing my craziness here! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or anything related to it.
Beta: The lovely toomuchfandom.
Go to "Happy birthday, my slave," Part 2/3
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She could hear the voices of two men in the van she had been forced to get into. Inside the trunk, Amita was blindfolded. Handcuffs around her wrists and ankles.
Darkness everywhere.
But still, she could hear the voices. They were little angry whispers, which indicated her that her kidnappers were having a fight.
She didn’t have to wonder much about whom one of them was. She didn’t need to hear his voice. Amita could smell him every time he was close. And she could feel her skin start to get cold because of the horror.
Patrick Garner. Patrick Garner.
That name repeated itself over and over inside her head, and she couldn’t control it. It was her conscience hunting her again, reminded her of the horrible mistake she had made in her past.
And that mistake was having met Patrick.
It had been fate’s fault. Amita didn’t deserve to have this kind of life. If she had known what kind of person Patrick was, she would have never become his girlfriend. But it had been a long time ago, almost ten years. And yet, he had kept going after her every once in a while.
When they were a couple and lived together, Patrick had stopped being the nice person she thought he was, and he had started to treat her as his personal slave. No studying. No seeing your friends. No watching TV. You’ll live only to please me.
It had been very likely that the mistreating would become worse, but Amita kept having faith in Patrick. A couple of months later, she had been slapped in the face after not washing the dishes the way he deemed appropriate.
She had left the apartment that same day, after being insulted by him. And she had never come back.
But he had. He had followed her every step. He had figured out where she lived, he had figured out where she was studying. Patrick had come back to her life over and over, demanding her to get back with him so they could be a happy couple again.
It was such a cruel, sick joke. Happy couple. That’s just outrageous.
Patrick had always tried to make her return to him as his slave in a weird, psychotic way, but he had never tried to hurt her again. Amita had always thought that she would be fine, that Patrick somehow would give up and that she would be able to continue with her life, not looking over her shoulder every time she got out of her apartment.
This time had been different. Patrick and some other man had kidnapped her, and there was no way for her to escape. And what was even worse, no one knew about her being gone…
Suddenly, there was the sound of a shot, and the car lost control for a minute.
Inside the horrible, asphyxiating trunk, Amita tried to free herself. It was impossible. When the vehicle stopped, she barely moved in the darkness that surrounded her, breathing hard, sweat running down her entire body, wetting her clothes.
One of the doors was open. There were some strange noises, some silence and then the door being closed.
The car started to move again, this time in reverse. When it went forward, it soon jumped like it had hit something on the road.
Amita started to tremble all over.
It was a long trip. And when it was over, she wished it had been longer.
The trunk was open, and it was obvious that someone was looking at her, but she couldn’t see anything. She waited and waited.
She could smell his scent. He was so close to her.
Immediately, Amita was lifted by two strong arms. The pressure applied by the chest of that person belonged to the one she had imagined. There was no doubt it was Patrick.
Afraid of what might happen, she couldn’t stop trembling. All of a sudden, she felt Patrick’s mouth against her ear, while he continued carrying her to a place that was unknown.
“Hello, my slave. I’ve missed you.”
She whined softly and heard him laugh a little. But she remained in silence, not wanting to challenge him, as that had always been a stupid mistake in the past.
After that, Patrick placed her against the wall and got rid of one of the cuffs she was wearing. He held her wrist firmly and used chains to tie her to the wall. Patrick wasn’t gentle with her either, he was pushing her against that wall so hard at one point that she could feel the pressure on her back and knocked some air out of her lungs.
Her ankles were up next. They got tied to the wall with chains too, leaving her seated on the floor with her legs open in an awkward position that she knew it was going to hurt in a while.
What covered her eyes was removed.
She was in a motel room. There was a bed, a nightstand, a closet and a bathroom. It was all very cheap and depressing.
“What, you don’t like it?” Patrick asked, being ironically crazy like he always had been.
“Where’s the other man?” she dared to say, trying not to cry.
Patrick showed her a confused face. But he answered to her question without doing anything to her. “Oh, you mean Christian…? He started to chicken out, so I shot him and then ran the car over him. I’m being sensitive today.”
Desperate, Amita breathed hard and swallowed, trying to control her nerves. He didn’t want to give Patrick the pleasure he enjoyed the most… to see her in fear and pain, screaming and begging him to let her go.
“I think you’re lucky today, my slave…” the man stated, and he pulled out a little knife that sparked some very bad memories in Amita.
The man stood in front of her while he played with his knife. He flipped it through his fingers like it was a coin. But coins didn’t hurt when dropped onto a body.
She was completely at his mercy.