The Fighter (AU/Punk)

Sages POV
My breathing is shallow as I attempt to struggle against the zip ties restraining me unsuccessfully.
"I have to admit," Liam muses from his spot by the door. He leans against the wall, his arms crossed over the taut muscles of his chest. He seems to have showered and changed his clothes since I last saw him. The dark grey t shirt he's wearing hugs his muscular chest. "I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd get out that easily."
I want to respond with something witty and sarcastic but I'm so damn tired and my entire body aches. The fiery pain in my arm occupies most of my attention, I would rather have them shoot me than bear this any longer. I bite down on my tongue harshly to prevent myself from screaming at the crawling pain. I feel moisture slide down my cheeks, I didn't even realize I was crying.
"Aw does it hurt?" Liam asks with mock concern.
I grit my teeth and meet his gaze strongly. Really I just look and feel pathetic. I'm avoiding looking at my arm at all costs, I don't want to see the mess that that surely is.
"I think we should just let that arm kill you," he muses and observes me. "Sure seems like it hurts."
"Fuck off," I say hoarsely.
He laughs loudly but doesn't move any closer to me, thank god. "Don't you get it Sage? It's over. There's no point in trying to salvage your dignity. No one is going to know if you just give up."
His words hit me like knifes. He's right. I'm going to die. There's no point in telling him to fuck off, it's not going to get me anywhere. I should just focus on surviving as long as I can, or dying as soon as possible. I haven't decided what to do yet. They aren't going to let me escape, not again. I had my chance and I blew it. I should have realized how suspicious it was that Michael was conveniently driving along this road. I probably wasn't even that far away from this god awful cabin. I meet Liam's gaze steadily and wordlessly, forcing all the emotions I'm feeling to him in one look. His strong demeanor falters for a moment and I see something like genuine regret flash across his face before he replaces it with a snarl.
"Stop looking at me like that," he demands angrily.
I continue to look at him, not breaking our gaze. It's almost as though were children having a staring contest, the first to look away loses. My competitive nature rears it's head and I narrow my eyes as I look at Liam. If I'm going to die I think I deserve one last win. To my pride, Liam looks away, unable to stand my penetrating gaze any longer. I bristle in my seat with the victory but soon forget it when my brain refocuses on the pain in my arm.
It's like my body is calling out for me to help it, to acknowledge the pain it's in. Only it doesn't seem to realize that there's nothing I can do about it, so it's pointless to make my arm hurt like this. I shiver at the cold and continue breathing heavily, finding it difficult to fill my lungs.
I'm not sure how much time passes with Liam standing against the wall and me slowly withering away in the seat. I watch with blurry vision as my tears fall against my thighs, counting them as a way to pass the time. We may have been in there for hours or only minutes. Every moment causing more pain.
Eventually, the door bursts open wildly. I slowly raise my head to see Michael, a wild look in his eyes and a gun in his hand. A shock of fear courses through me but slowly that melts away to be replaced with relief. I'm finally going to die. I won't have to endure this unbearable pain any longer. I stare at the gun in his hand but slowly it changes, the black metal morphs into a scaly black snake, doubling the length of the gun.
I scream and thrash in my seat and Liam and Michael look at me with content expressions. Don't they realize that the gun turned into a snake?!
"S-snake," I stutter out, somehow finding my voice. I stare in horror as the reptiles forked tongue emerges from it's mouth, hissing lowly.
Michaels eyebrows raise in surprise and confusion as he approaches me, the wriggling snake clutched in his hand.
"What snake?" He asks softly. I stare at the snake in his hands. How can he not feel it's scaly skin? His eyes travel to the snake in his hands and a look of realization crosses his face before he turns to look at me.
He crouches down in front of me and lifts the snake up to my face.
"Are you scared sweetheart?" He whispers gently as I cringe away from his hand, only I can't go far. Michael presses the wriggling snake against my face and I let out a choked sob as it slides across my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut as the scales brush my cheek.
"Stop," I whisper hoarsely as Michael moves the snake down my cheek to my neck. He presses it to my chest, the scales touching my rapidly rising and falling chest.
"Why would I do that?" Michael asks and moves the snake down my shirt, sliding it over my breasts and pushing it into the valley between the two. I sob once again as he pulls it up slowly, making sure I feel every sensation.
"Open your eyes," Michael commands as the snake is removed from my skin. Slowly my eyes flutter open and I see Michael standing in front of me, the snake still clutched in his hand and an amused smirk on his face.
"You're sick," I whisper angrily.
"Actually you are," Michael says and walks behind me. "This is a gun darling."
"No it's not," I sob. That is definitely a snake.
"It's a gun," he insists and dangles the snake in front of my face. The black creature stares at me with angry yellow eyes and I watch in amazement as it slowly morphs back into the gun I saw when Michael first walked into the room.
"W-what" I stutter out. How is that possible? How was it a snake and now a gun. I felt the snake against my skin! That wasn't a gun.
"I think you're hallucinating," Michael says with a chuckle.
How is that even possible? The thoughts race through my head. It seemed so real. So damn real...
"That was fun and all but I actually came down here for a reason," Michael muses and pulls the gun away from my face. "I was going to wait for you to just die off but that is taking way too long and I thought that this seemed like a fun alternative."
He comes back into my view and I watch as he pulls one single bullet out of his pocket. He pushes the bullet into the cartridge and twirls it around. There's no telling where that bullet is.
"I want to see you flinch," he gives as an explanation and rapidly presses the gun to my head.
I really am going to die this time. I've come close to death more times than I can count in my lifetime, but this time, it's different. This time I'm sitting here helplessly, there's no one around to save me. There's a gun pressed to my head, and even if there wasn't I'm sure I would die without medical attention soon.
I squeeze my eyes shut as Michaels hand comes down on the trigger and I swear my heart stops. But only a resounding click sounds. Not the bullet.
"One down five to go," Michael says plainly.
I don't even open my eyes as another click sounds through the room, my shoulders jumping as it happens and my heart stopping again. My heart is beating so fast I think it's going to burst from my chest, and I think the rate at which I'm breathing is considered hyperventilating.
"Four left," he muses and pushes the barrel of the gun harder against my skull. A part of me just wants it to be the bullet, to get this all over with. But my human nature is praying it's not, hoping for just one more moment of life.
Click.
Not the bullet.
"Three," Michael says roughly.
I dig my fingernails into the arms of the chair, ignoring the burning pain in my arm.
Click.
"Two," Michael says and the cool gun slides around my head through my hair. "I wonder what this pretty hair would look like covered in blood," he wonders aloud and presses the gun in my hair against my head.
Click.
I flinch, I was sure that would be the one. There was a 50 percent chance.
This is it. The last one. The bullet would have to be now. I'm going to die. I somehow manage to slowly breathing, finding calm in the fact that this would soon be over.
"One," Michael whispers and a bang sounds through the room.

Harry's POV
I pace the hallway rapidly, glancing at my phone every two seconds. It's been hours since I called Liam's mum and she still hasn't called me back.
Finally, I give into the temptation and call her instead. Zayn looks at me warily, his arms crossed over his chest as I press the phone to my ear. Zayn got back from the police station about an hour ago, he was there for a while. They wanted to question him. He won't tell me what about but I'll find out eventually, right now, I'm more worried about Sage and finding her as soon as possible.
"Hello?" Liam's mums voice sounds through the phone.
"Hi Mrs. Payne this is Harry," I say smoothly, keeping the emotions I'm feeling out of my voice. "I was wondering if you got that address I called about earlier."
"Oh yes I completely forgot to call you back!" She exclaims before rattling off an address. I quickly jot down the numbers on a piece of paper before thanking her and hanging up.
"We've got the address," I blurt out to the lads, already heading for the door.
"Harry we should tell the police," Zayn says and moves to stand in front of the door.
"Why the hell would we do that?!" I shout and try to push past him but Louis stands next to him.
"Because there's no telling what kind of condition she's in," Zayn explains. "They're professionals."
"You went to medical school, you can help her," I say desperately.
He shakes his head slowly, "tell the police Harry."
He's right. I nod in agreement and we all rush out into Zayns living room where the flurry of police activity seems to have taken up headquarters. It's like they decided that this was too big of a deal to waste time going back to the police station so they just set up camp here. Daniel sees us enter and walks over quickly. I wordlessly shove the address into his hand and he looks at it, eyes widening.
"We've got an address!" He shouts and instantaneously a group of officers are at his side, ready to go.
They send a lead team and somehow Zayn convinced the cops that having us along would be beneficial, I think they realized that if they didn't bring us we would just go on our own anyways. They did manage to separate us all into different cars. I ask about the ambulance that follow the train of black SUVs silently and Zayn simply shrugs. It's for Sage. Somehow I just know.
I ride in the back seat of a full SUV, cops talking in low tones as we fly through the city, not even stopping for traffic lights.
I watch the minutes tick by, each bringing me closer to Sage. After an hour and 43 minutes the car begins to slow down.
"We are nearing the cabin," Daniel says lowly from the drivers seat. "You all know the plan."
"I don't have a gun," I blurt out the realization. I should probably be armed.
"You're not coming in," Daniel says, keeping his eyes forward.
"To hell I'm not!" I shout angrily. Who does he think he is?
"Letting you come in would jeopardize the entire operation and possibly get your girlfriend killed! I'm not going to let you risk that," Daniel says with controlled anger. I sink back into my seat silently. I'm so used to benign in charge that it's weird not to be.
We come to a stop in the middle of the woods, no cabin in sight. Daniel directs a beefy guy to stay with me and I climb in the passenger seat of the car, watching as they disappear into the woods.

Notes

Intense chapter for ya.
IS SAGE DEAD OR....?
IS HARRY ACTUALLY GOING TO WAIT IN THE CAR?
WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN?