The Hostage and the Wanted

“Are you dizzy, nauseous or have trouble concentrating?” Zayn asked, flashing a small flashlight in Isabella’s eyes, watching her eyes contract against the light, which meant everything was functioning as it should have been.

Isabella was getting tired of the questions so she took to answering them –just not in the way they would have liked.

“Only when I look at Harry.” Isabella rolled her eyes sarcastically and pulled away from Zayn’s examination. “Enough, I’m fine. I just need to get out of here!”

“You are, you will. We’re waiting for Niall and then we’ll take you guys somewhere safe.” Zayn promised, attempting to calm her fears.

“They’re not going to give up! No matter where I am, no matter what, they always manage to find me. The cat’s out of the bag, alright? I serve no purpose as your hostage anymore because you two idiots are already wanted by police! What purpose do I really serve, man? Let me go!” Isabella exploded, which caused Zayn to arch his eyebrow toward Harry.

“Mate, she does have a point. I think it would be safer to release her, let her run and get Louis back to our place, recoop and figure out what to do from there.” Zayn halfheartedly agreed, seeing the girl’s point.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t sold so easily.

“She stays with us until I figure out what’s going on. Louis is half dead and she has a secret that is putting us all in danger –something important if she’s going through such great lengths to hide.” Harry challenged, sitting down beside Isabella, causing her to look at him. “Or you can tell me and we let you go.”

“Bullshit. You two are filled with false promises. I do what you ask and it gets me nowhere but where I started.” Isabella spat, turning away, shifting uncomfortably.

“Perhaps but you still have a purpose here. If the cops happen to find us at any point, you will serve as a deterrent. That’s your purpose. So get comfortable.” Harry growled before he stood up to pace again.

“That’s weak, using a girl for a hostage. You should be ashamed of yourself. The both of you. I have nothing to do with your crime spree. You held me hostage when I was trying to run for my life, so if anything, I blame you assholes. Let. Me. Go!

To make her point, Isabella jerked against her bounds, not that it did her much good considering the duct tape was still over the flexi-ties and held securely against her struggle.

Harry growled and kneeled down so they were eye level; speaking as calmly as he could muster.

“Believe me, I wish we would of taken the till gent but you were the closest, we grabbed what was available and unfortunately it happen to be you. Trust me, luv, nothing is bringing me greater misery than putting up with you as a hostage but we are stuck. Until I figure out what’s going on with Louis and until we get to where we’re needing to go; you, me –Louis, we’re stuck together and we need to coexist. Alright? You may hate my guts and I may want to blow your fucking head off but that’s just the way it’s going to have to be. If you can prove to be calm, I will untie you from your bindings. Alright? Can we at least make that accord?”

Isabella would have folded her hands across her chest if she could but instead she just looked into the deep green eyes of her captor, untrustingly.

“If I run, you’ll be out of danger. Why won’t you let me do that? I serve no purpose.” Isabella begged desperately.

Harry let out a soft sigh and stood back up.

“Running doesn’t solve anything, luv. You’ll have to face your demons sooner or later.” Harry replied calmly, looking at Zayn who took to sitting on the other chair.

“Hello pot, I’m kettle, nice to make your acquaintance. You stupid fucking –that’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re running! So what’s the difference between what I’m doing and what you’re doing that’s any different? You face your demons!” Isabella exclaimed, her vibrant eyes darkening.

“The difference luv, is I’m wanted for a sentence that will carry me until I’m dead and in the ground, I have no intention of going to jail for that long.”

Isabella cleared her throat before replying.

“Well I have a death sentence if I stay, you will to. There’s a reason I keep to myself, I keep distanced because I learned long ago that the less baggage you have, the further you can run. You’re carrying more than you can handle. Trust me, I know.”

Harry looked at Zayn.

“Are you done with your fifty questions yet?” Harry asked, taking the roll of duct tape from his pocket again.

Zayn gestured out.

“Your hostage, mate, have a go. The only thing I saw that’s really wrong with her is slight dehydration.”

Harry rubbed his forehead in agitation before walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge to see if there was anything in there.

He opened the door to see a few bottles of water, he took them out and walked back to the living room, handing one to Zayn and setting one aside for himself before taking the third and opening the cap.

Isabella glowered as the bottle was put to her lips but she didn’t fight him. She wanted to but her throat was killing her.

Harry let her take a long sip before pulling it away and recapping it.

“Thank you.” Isabella replied, although given her tone; Harry couldn’t be sure if it was sincere or sarcastic. So he took the safe bet and just nodded her his acknowledgment.

He grabbed the tape again and broke a piece off, going to put it to her mouth but she moved her head away and spoke.

“I’ve been running longer and a lot further then you two have. If you won’t let me go, at least listen to what I have to say. Please?”

Harry shrugged, retreating his hand and letting it drop to his side, the end of the tape still attached to his finger.

“Running and evading the police is easy. I’m not wanted for that reason. You want to use a surname name of someone you know, maybe even a different name all together. For example, my name isn’t Isabella. I go by that name to keep with my profile of being anonymous. You want to keep to the off roads when traveling, the back roads work best and never fully trust anyone.” Isabella advised, watching Harry’s reaction.

“That must get lonely, love. Never trusting anyone, always alone? That’s not any sort of life I’d want.” Zayn sympathized.

“Believe me, it’s not the life I would have chosen either. It sort of chose me but I have no one to blame but myself. I had a family, I had a fiancé –I had a life. Unfortunately I wasn’t satisfied and got greedy. I wanted more and I got it. Sadly, once you get over to the other side, you find the grass isn’t always greener. I got what I wanted but it wasn’t without its price. It cost my family their lives, my fiancé –he” Isabella’s voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes.

Zayn reached over and rubbed her shoulder.

“I made a mistake that I can’t take back. I wish I could but I can’t and now he’s stuck paying for it.”

Harry reached over and used the ends of his shirt to wipe away the girl’s falling tears. He wasn’t good at sentimental comfort and he didn’t know what to say –he just wished Isabella –or whatever her name was, would tell him what she was running from, give them a chance to help her.

“Out in the trunk, there’s a bag. It’s everything I own –please, before you ditch the car, please?” Isabella sobbed.

Harry let out a small inward groan but balled up the piece of tape and went out to the car, opening the trunk door to see a large navy blue duffel bag. He picked it up, struggling a little at how heavy it was.

He walked back to the house and carried it inside, placing it on the floor in front of the other occupants.

“What’s your real name?” Harry asked cautiously, opening the bag in front of him and pulled back the flaps.

Harry’s eyes widened, his hand reaching in and taking out a stack of cash before gripping the bottom and dumping the entirety of the duffle bag onto the floor.

“Holy shit –“Zayn breathed, kneeling on the floor to further examine.

Cash, photos and a few personal items littered the ground.

“It’s all I have. There used to be more –about four bags full but like I’ve said, I’ve been running a few years.” Isabella said softly, watching the men go through her stuff.

Harry came across a picture of Isabella and a very well dressed gentlemen, the picture on the back said ‘Anastasia Bright and Glen Saudimere, office Christmas party of 2012’

“Anastasia Bright?” Harry looked at her, smiling a little. He didn’t peg her for an Isabella and now he knew why.

Isabella didn’t say anything, she merely looked away.

“I take it Glen Saudimere was your fiancé?” Harry pressed, picking up another photo, this time of Isabella holding a young baby. Her beautiful green orbs sparkled so bright in the picture that he never saw anyone look happier. “Who’s the kid?”

Isabella’s eyes turned cold then, her body tensed against her restraints.

“Keep the money if you so wish, there’s about a million pounds left but leave my past in those photos alone. They’re mine to cherish, no one else’s and if you had any dignity in you at all you’d keep your nose out.” Isabella growled but it didn’t hold the viciousness she wanted it to, instead it broke and she glanced at the picture she hadn’t looked at since she began running –since she left Kansas.

The tears that fell were silent and Harry knew she had closed herself up again. With a sigh he gathered the fallen memories and small figurines –stopping again when he picked up a small little plastered handprint. The name at the bottom simply read ‘Ian’.

“What happened to Ian? What happened to your family?” Harry asked softly, showing Isabella the plastered imprint.

“Mate? I don’t think now is the best time –she clearly doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to –“ Zayn started but fell silent, gathering the money back in the bag with a shake of his head, knowing Harry wasn’t one to give up so easily.

“Gag me, I’d rather be gagged than talk about this.” Isabella sobbed, shaking her head.

“Not until you tell me who Ian is, why those men are chasing you and why you feel the need to lie so damn much. I want an explanation, Ana.” Harry demanded calmly, putting the handprint directly in front of her vision.

“Ian was my son. My son is dead and don’t you EVER call me Ana again. Do you understand me!? Fuck you!” Isabella screamed, jerking her head back, letting it slam into the headrest before doing it again.

Zayn cushioned her head the second time she tried and shushed her, giving Harry a pointed look.

“Put them away, mate. They’re doing more harm than good.” Zayn told him, using his other hand to pet the girl’s head, trying to get her calmed down.

Harry gathered the last of the items and put them back in the bag with the money, grabbing the duct tape again and ripping off another piece, sticking it across the girl’s mouth, smoothing it to her flesh.

Zayn sighed, not agreeing with his friend’s actions at all.

“She said she’d rather be gagged then answer my questions, wish granted. Besides, I was going to do it anyhow for transporting, we can’t risk her getting attention from other motorists should there actually be any out on the road.” Harry shrugged, walking toward the window and glancing out, seeing a plain white and blue minivan pull into the driveway.

“Our ride is here.” Harry smiled, seeing his two former friends getting out of the van.

Zayn glanced at Isabella, concerned.

“You ok?” He made sure.

Isabella was concentrating on breathing but managed a small nod, which relaxed Zayn considerably.

“Alright, then let’s get the hell out of here.”

Harry couldn’t have agreed more, throwing open the door and meeting his two other friends on the other side with a well long awaited embrace.

Zayn watched the three interact, greeting one another like long lost brothers. In truth it had been too long and Zayn, though he’d never admit it, was glad the gang was back together. If only briefly.

Notes

enjoy!!