Captive

Dawn could not have come fast enough. I felt warm and in a desperate need to drink. When I tried to move, I felt a force pushing me into the mattress. At some point during the night, Sidney Crosby decided that it was okay to sleep on his stomach and drape his thick, heavy arm on me.

He was still sleeping, unfazed by the rays of the morning sun on his face. I couldn’t figure him out. At times, he would be a tornado of rage, while at other times, he was the definition of peace and calm; the latter in full motion as I stared at him, only an inch away from his hot breath.

My borderline creepy inspection was cut short as someone opened the outer door. I rolled out of bed at a lightning speed and headed for the cell door. My heart was pounding in my chest as I waited for our visitor on the other side. Crosby woke up but seemed disoriented as he swung his legs to the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes.

The mailman has returned. Only this time, he was alone. When he entered the cell, he was holding a different kind of box.

“Boss says to take care of his wound while I watch. Can’t leave you with needle and scissors,” he said in a deadpan tone.

My suspicions were confirmed. I was there to care for Crosby. I took a deep breath and nodded. Once he handed me the box, he immediately produced a gun from his waist.

“No funny business,” he ordered, his gun pointed at me.

“Okay,” I said faintly with one hand clutching the first aid kit and the other held up in the air.

“Do it now, I wait,” the mailman said.

I turned to Crosby who was now alert and motioned for him to lay back on the bed. He did not put up a fight, for which I was thankful. I went through the content of the medical kit and was satisfied as everything I needed was neatly placed where it should be. It must be this Logan guy.

I gave Crosby a small reassuring smile and proceeded to work under the watchful eye of our mailman. I explained that I will inspect and clean up his two wounds and will give him the second antibiotic shot of the 7-day treatment.

Luckily, Logan has done a good job and his wounds were starting to heal without any sign of infections. But he still needed to shower for safe measures. “Everything looks good,” I told Crosby and he nodded in response.

I turned to the mailman who was waiting patiently, “Please, you need to bring this kit for the next 5 days, okay?” I asked as politely as I could. Crosby needed those shots.

“I follow instructions,” he simply replied, not giving away whether he will be coming back tomorrow or not.

Once he collected the kit from me, his empty hand roamed my body and I instinctively jumped away from him. “What are you doing?!” I yelled.

“Need to make sure you did not steal from box,” he said sternly all the while patting the pockets in my uniform.

Once done, he took a few steps away. “Doctor says to leave this if you need for later,” he said holding up a plastic bag full of gauze and tape. He placed it near the food tray that I haven’t noticed he brought when he arrived.

As he was leaving I called after him, “Sir!” He looked at me and shook his head. “I just need to know who you work for and where we are, and –”

He simply held his hand up to stop my rambling, “Better not ask questions,” he said calmly. “Please!” I pleaded but to no avail. He locked the door and left us there once again.

Despite what he was doing for a living, there was something about this man that was not that threatening or scary to me. He did have a gun though and his hands were dangerously close to my breasts. Maybe I should fear him. Crosby had me doubting all my instincts.

I remained planted in front of the closed door for a long time before I felt my cellmate’s hand on my shoulder.

“You were right yesterday. We should do everything we can to survive. God knows how long we will be here for,” he said. “At least we have each other,” he added hesitantly.

He was clearly trying to comfort me and I caved. I covered my face and surrendered to my fears, letting a complete stranger reassure me.

“I can easily take him,” Crosby broke the silence. I gave him a questioning look.

“When he comes back, you can distract him and I will hit him, we’ll catch him off guard,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You forgot that little detail called a gun!” I answered incredulously.

“He won’t shoot me. You said they needed me, I’ll be worthless to them if I’m dead,” Crosby spoke.

I stared at him in disbelief. His suggestion was insane and stupid that I did not know where to start. “First of all, he may shoot us, and let me reassure you, even your corpse will be worth something. Second, you being a hostage is my own theory. And even if it’s true, is it a chance you’re willing to take? Jesus, please don’t do anything stupid when he comes because that will be the opposite of surviving. You will get us both killed.”

“Okay, let’s hear your brilliant ideas then!” he answered, his hands on his waist.

“I say we wait to see who we’re dealing with first, and learn what they want!” My anger was rising and with it my voice.

“Oh, so your genius plan is to sit tight?” He yelled.

Thus began a long shouting match between us, a match that we were both surely losing. In the end, we were drained, but we did let out some of our frustrations – a good thing to do in my books.

*****

“We cannot keep this up. We need to be a team if we were to leave this place,” I said from the territory I claimed for myself in one of the corners. Crosby remained quiet as he studied the dirty shoes that he took off before climbing into bed last night.

“Fine,” I mumbled at his lack of response.

I fished into the boxes for soap and the likely oversized but clean t-shirt and pants. I stood to the side of the shower and turned the switch on. Fortunately, the shower was functional. Unfortunately, there was no curtain.

“I need to shower. Could you turn around and not look?” I spoke to him only because I had to.

Without even looking my way, he stretched on the bed and turned to face the wall, leaving his expansive shirtless back in view. But I was still finding it hard to take off my clothes with a stranger in the same room, a stranger who was only a few feet away.

“Don’t turn around until I tell you that I’m done,” I said trying to make sure he doesn’t look.

“For fuck sakes, stop worrying. I could care less about seeing you naked,” Crosby said.

“Good,” I said annoyed.

That was what every woman in my position would want to hear. His words shouldn’t have offended me nor hurt my ego, but they somehow did. Crosby was saying that he had absolutely no interest in me, and while that fact should have been a relief, it wasn’t.

I took off what’s left of my uniform, taking the time to detach it from my dry wounds. As I was tucking my underwear inside the skirt, my hand hovered over my jacket where all the decorations I collected over my years of service were still hanging; though the ribbons were dirty and the medals were no longer shiny.

However, my nametag was undamaged. “Shaw” was finely stitched with our Air Forces blue and white colours. As I set my uniform to the side, away from the water stream, my stomach tightened at the thought of never wearing it again.

Fresh tears threatened to spill when images of my family all devastated came rushing in. They were probably mourning my death. Will it make them feel better knowing that I’m a captive and not a dead war heroine?

I showered in record time, keeping my eyes wide open, even when tears and soap were streaming down my face. Crosby wasn’t looking, but someone may come to pay us an unwelcomed visit.

I cleaned out the dirt from my hair and scrubbed my skin until it turned red. The water was cold, but it wasn’t something I haven’t dealt with before; I was a military woman after all.

The t-shirt was black and big enough to hide my braless chest. The sweatpants, on the other hand, did not hold at my waist. I had to make a knot to the side to prevent them from dropping. I tried not to dwell too much on my lack of panties in the questionable pants.

“I’m done,” I said once I was fully clothed.

Crosby turned on his back and looked my way. His mouth opened to speak but no words came out. He stared at me instead.

“Can I help you?”

“You used the only towel we have.”

“Well, you can wait for a couple of hours until it dries,” I mumbled as I hung the wet towel on the permanently open window.

I delicately detached my medals and badges from my uniform and got to work in the small sink. I made it my mission to restore their clean state. I heard Crosby rummaging through the boxes. I looked over my shoulder to see him assess the clothes left. He snorted and threw a few articles on the bed. He then started unbuttoning his pants without any warning.

I turned away as fast as humanly possible and focused on my task. Yep, that’s dirt. If I scrubbed these two ribbons together, it should help the process; anything to block out the image of Sidney Crosby and his state of undress.

Then I heard him wince. I could only assume it was his wound as he pulled down his pants. Since he was barefoot, I did not hear him move next to the sink where the shower was. I only felt the splash of cold water soak my once-dry t-shirt. I jumped away from the shower and was greeted by his almost naked form. Thankfully, he was still in his briefs. His bandages were still on too. He seemed determined to shower despite the towel situation.

“You need to remove the bandage before you shower. We have extra clean ones that we could use after you finish,” I said while busying myself with my damp t-shirt. “Normally, we recommend not to get your wounds wet that early, but in your case, I think it will be more hygienic, given you know…”

Crosby winced loud enough for me to look at him this time. Two feet away from the shower, there he stood as he attempted to remove his bandage.

I sighed, “Let me.”

He put his arms at his side, giving me his silent permission. I kneeled in front of him and started with his stomach. Without scissors, I had to detach the tape then unroll the bandage spanning his torso. I carefully removed the gauze and inspected his wounds closely.

“Am I still bleeding?” Crosby asked with a hoarse voice, eyeing the discarded gauze.

“No, your wounds look great. This is old blood from this morning,” I explained. “Stay here, don’t move.”

I dampened clean gauze and rubbed in some soap. “I will clean your wounds, this way you won’t need to touch them when you shower.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’m just doing what’s expected of me.” I passed the gauze over his wound gently and his stomach twitched. “Hold on, I need to rinse the soap out.”

Once done, I compiled the used material and tossed them to the side. When I turned back, Crosby was still in the same spot.

“I’m done, you can shower. I won’t look,” I said as I pointed to the same spot he occupied when I was showering.

He frowned, “You don’t have to take care of me if you don’t want to. I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay. It gives me something to do.”

I rested my head on the pillow and stared at the bare wall. I haven’t noticed how loud the shower was until it was turned off. Crosby said that he was done, but I did not bother to move. I felt him nearby and something shifted on the bed. In the event that he was still naked, I did not dare to look – well, not until something grazed my foot. I jumped involuntarily and looked his way.

Crosby, in all his naked glory, lifted one arm in surrender, while using the clothes he had in his other hand to cover himself.

“I was just grabbing the clothes,” he said hurriedly. I tore my eyes away from his nude body before they lingered too long.

As much as I wanted to ignore his presence, when I heard him search through the gauze bag, I had to intervene. The break was over; it was time to get back to my patient.

Sure enough, Crosby was trying to wrap his own wound as he stood in one piece of clothing – the tad too snug boxer briefs that I must have missed in the box. Water beads were tumbling down his face, torso, and legs.

I shook myself out of my stance and gestured for him to stop what he was doing.

“You don’t have to,” he whispered softly.

Ignoring him, I went through what’s left in the box and found another shirt.

“We need to dry your wounds to perfection, it’s critical,” I said as I gently dabbed his wounds with the cotton shirt. My work was however pointless as more water dripped from his upper body.

I tossed the shirt on the bed and cursed under my breath. It was a simple task: get him dry. Yet, my mind was working so frustratingly slow. I walked around and took a few deep breaths to calm myself, but it didn’t work.

“Hey, I can do it myself. Please don’t cry,” Crosby said. I wasn’t even aware that I was crying.

“I’m fine, I just need another cloth to dry you before we dry the wounds. There must be more things in here. I should have showered after you. I’m not thinking straight, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said as I haphazardly searched in the boxes again.

I froze when Crosby touched me. He held both of my arms and lifted me up to my feet easily.

“Hey, stop, it’s okay. Take a deep breath,” I nodded and obliged. His hold on my arms remained tight, “that’s it, a few more, slowly.” And just like that, Crosby coached me out of a panic attach.

“Are you good now to take care of me? You do need something to do,” he said with a small smile.

I couldn’t find my voice. I tried but no words were coming out. It could have been due to my body trying to relax after the panic I almost had. It was equally plausible that Crosby’s proximity was causing my speechless state.

He looked down at me softly; his gaze was warm and comforting. And all I could do was nod. His grasp loosed and I had to step away from him. I noticed him shiver slightly. He was undressed and wet. No wonder. It did not help that the temperature was dropping as the evening approached.

I found another shirt and hurriedly dried his chest, neck and face. I dried his wounds gently and he shivered every time I touched him. Finding my voice again, I said, “I’ll be done in a minute, you can then get dressed, you’re freezing.”

“It’s the stitches,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s normal that they’re sensitive,”

“It’s a little ticklish,” he chuckled lightly.

“I’m all done. We need to keep it dry from now on. You can get dressed.”

“If you insist,” he said raising his eyebrows at me.

I must have looked confused. “Never mind. Thanks again,” he awkwardly said and turned his back to dress up.

As much as I lacked the appetite, I reasoned that I should eat. I was drained and my emotions were all over the place. I sat on the bed with the tray that the mailman left this morning and inspected the neatly wrapped food.

There were a few sandwiches, crackers, carrots, cheese, and apples arranged for us. They even brought us two cups of tea that were surely cold now. We had enough food for a whole day, well maybe it felt that way to me. Athletes eat a lot more, don’t they?

“You can put pants on, you know. The bandage is thick enough, it won’t break,” I told Crosby as he sat on the bed in just a t-shirt and the tight briefs.

He blushed and scratched his neck, “Sorry, that’s not gonna happen. I…”

He looked quite uncomfortable. Oh, I get it. With his frame, the pants they gave us must be too small on him.

“Do you want to see if the ones I’m wearing work? They’re sweats, there may be more room?”

“I’m not so sure,” he said as he tilted his head and looked at my pants. I stood up to show him.

“They’re too big, look,” I motioned to the knot I made at the waist.

“With all due respect, officer, you’re tiny,” he said with a smirk.

“I’m not tiny, you’re just huge, Mister,” I couldn’t come up with a better title for him.

I looked at the freshly showered man; his skin looked clear and his short hair was sticking up in all directions. He looked much younger. His tired eyes were trained on me and I instinctively hugged my t-shirt and pulled my loose pants higher.

With his eyes still on me, he handed me a sandwich. “We should try to eat.”

I guess our pants, or pant-less, discussion was over.

I shook my head but Crosby was not having it. “Try, you’re shaking,” he insisted.

“I’m just a little cold,” I mumbled.

Shaking his head, he started devouring his sandwich. I poured us some water in the paper cups and joined him on the bed. There was no use in arguing over this. He was right. I should try to eat.

We sat in silence and watched the blue of the sky outside our window turn into red and orange hues. I managed to force down some crackers and carrots and the spinning in my head subsided at last. Crosby ate well, which was great since he was on antibiotics.

As I played with my empty cup, I turned towards my cellmate who was already looking at me. “How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“I should be asking you this question,” Okay, so he was feeling well – sassy even.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

He took the cup from my hand and put the tray away. Despite the dimness, I could easily see the contour of his body, especially his bare legs. No pants would fit that, I thought. I felt my face heat up when he turned and caught me staring. The bastard smiled.

“About those pants,” he said nodding in my direction.

“What…what about them?”

“I think it’s worth a try. My ass is gonna freeze if I sleep like this. The blanket is too small.”

“Okay, let me change into another one.”

I grabbed the first pants I could spot and hid in the small bathroom. With the size of the curtain, he can easily see me from the shoulders up, so I made sure to change with my back to him. It was weird as it is, no need to look him in the eye while I took off my pants.

My new pants were a little problematic. The large kakis were impossible to tie at the waist. They would have to do though. I will need to make sure I hold them as I walk. It’s not like I had that much distance to travel anyway.

“I hope they fit,” I said handing him the sweats. They did, but they were too tight and I couldn’t stifle my laughter. Then, I instantly recalled how he snapped at me when I laughed the day before. The memory sobered me up within a split of a second.

“Sorry,” I whispered as I sat on the bed and looked at my feet.

“I don’t think I can sit without breaking them in half,” Crosby said and chuckled, missing the sudden shift in my mood. Then, his chuckles turned into a laughing party of one.

I couldn’t even smile at his hysterics. I understood then how he must have felt when I was the only one laughing.

When his laughs dissipated, he went on his knees in front of me. “Don’t feel too special with me kneeling like this. I seriously cannot sit in these,” he said with a chuckle. Was he trying to cheer me up? He seemed too chipper. They must have put something in those sandwiches he ate.

When his features got serious, I whispered, “What are we gonna do now?”

“I was gonna say, stay without bottoms, but I don’t think that’s what you wanted to hear,” he answered with a frown.

“What will happen when you no longer need those antibiotics?”

Notes