10.

As he walked into the house's Hall with her in his arms, he paused for a moment, his gaze falling on her unconscious face, wondering where he should place her.

Certainly not at her crib. On the bed?

"What are you doing standing there like that?" Warren's almost tired voice interrupted his thoughts.

"For the time being, spread out the sheets on the bed." He walked towards his room, Warren trailing behind.

"What? Why?"

"We can not just lay her on the floor, can we? It will be too uncomfortable and cold for her, especially when she is in this condition." Tiger explained.

Warren looked at him for a second, his eyes suspiciously examining Tiger's.

"What?" Tiger gave a grim expression.

"You- how- I mean, since when did you started to care about her? ShE iS jUsT a HoStAgE, nOt a gUeSt- what happened to that?" Warren mimicked his earlier words, his lips forming an amused grin as he stared at the brown-eyed, 6-foot-tall man who just stood there with a drugged girl in his arms, an irritated grimace settled on his face.

"I could not care less about her. It's just the formalities-"

"Formalities, yeah. For what, though? Are you a doctor?" Warren laughed, eliciting a tired sigh from Tiger.

"Stop with your stupid jokes and do what I told you to." Tiger scowled at him, knitting his brows together.

"Okay, boyfie." Warren sealed his lips, deliberately ignoring Tiger's death glare at his questionable choice of words, and began spreading the sheets on the bed.

When Warren was finished, Tiger carefully laid her down, his hand getting stuck beneath her back under her weight as he tried to pull it out, careful not to hurt her.

As he slowly moved his hand, his arm felt the surface of her soft fragile skin through her torn clothes, causing a jolt in his body that felt almost like an electric current, burning his insides for a split second.

His gaze remained fixed on her, examining every single detail of her petite features. One side of her face was glowing in the silvery-blue shade, graced by the ethereal beauty of the moon as it veiled her precious gorgeousness with its luminous rays, while the other side of her face was almost invisible under the darkness that fell from his shadow over her.

He sucked in a breath unintentionally, taken aback by the captivating sight of her.

What are you doing? A voice in his head inquired, breaking him out of his momentary state of distraction. When he realized he still had his hand under her back, he exhaled, disturbed by his own unusual perceptions, and pulled his hand out.

He turned around, catching a glimpse of the look Warren was giving him, a half smile displayed on his face with his eyes glimmering with amusement and something unreadable.

"What?" He arched his brow.

"What?" Warren asked, raising his shoulders in a pretentious, oblivious shrug.

Tiger tilted his head to the side, his eyes skeptically sweeping over Warren, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"It's nothing like what you're thinking." Tiger said after a beat of silence passed between them, breaking the small eye contest they were both silently having.

And only Warren could look into his eyes and maintain eye contact with him; no one else could withstand the intensity of those menacing brown orbs without being scurried away.

That is why he dislikes Warren looking into his eyes; he sometimes appears to see right through him, which he despises. He hates to be perceived, he hates to be seen.

"I didn't said anything." Warren simply shrugged.

----

A warm sensation caressed her face, akin to a feather gently gliding over her skin or a warm wind gently brushing against her.

All that was visible to her was darkness.

She made an attempt to open her eyes, but her mind was fuzzy. She was immobile and unable to open her eyes.

Gosh.

Her whole body felt heavy, as if it had been crushed beneath a tractor.

Memories flooded back in her mind; the punches, kicks and what not. They even poured blood of God knows what on her.

Abhorrent flashbacks that her memory was showing her made her insides clutch in disgust.

She twisted in agony, although some parts of her body felt numb.

She heard a gentle melody, and as she relaxed, she could hear it better.

It was an instrument, clearly. There was a gentle tune being played on a guitar, the kind you would enjoy listening to in a nearby cafe with friends while enjoying a cup of coffee and the company of others on a steamy day.

She took her time opening her eyes and acclimating to the bright sunlight streaming in through the window.

Where am I?

She looked up at the ceiling, subconsciously gazing at the patterns the fan hanging above made.

A familiar scent of woods hit her smelling senses, the guitar still playing in the background and her eyes glued to the fan for a while, tangled in her thoughts of dismay.

So I am back in this hell again?

Did you ever got out of it? She mentally scoffed at the thought.

Her thoughts centered on the melody, with a faint humming sound that complemented it perfectly and fit the room's humid atmosphere.

Although she does not listen to music anymore, she was unable to ignore the sounds the strings unintentionally made at that precise moment, and they reverberated in her ears.

She looked to the left, where the sound was coming from and wafting through the chilly, thin air in the room.

Warren?

He was seated in the farthest corner, his legs crossed under him, the guitar resting easily on his thighs, his fingers skilfully plucking the strings to produce a melody that was hard to get enough of.

The stunning brown guitar held a plethora of stories, and she observed the way his fingers danced across its sharp strings. It was old, undoubtedly. Its mahogany body, however, was glossy and caught the light just so, bringing out the subtle dark and light chocolate strokes that were painted on it.

A tiny, foolish smile played on his lips as he was totally engrossed in the moment. While his hands were busy strumming the euphoric notes, his eyes were tenderly fixed on the guitar. He looked happy and contented.

She remembered the night he had fought with Tiger, the defeated, dejected expression on his face when Tiger had said those hurtful words, and how he had then left the room.

The very other day, when they both took her to DK's bungalow, he seemed unaffected.

A hint of rage flared in her as she recalled the brutality with which Tiger had treated her, the impassive tone in Warren's voice, and the way in which they had both stood and watched those men drag her away.

But what to expect from them? Are they gonna care? Are they supposed to care? They brought her there specifically to torture her and force her to submit to their egotistical demands before ruthlessly murdering her.

She is not meant to have any expectations. And if she does, these gangsters are clearly not the right individuals.

Warren stopped playing, ending it with a faded note. He lifted his face, his black eyes falling onto her laying figure.

They both starred at each other for a moment. She suddenly became aware that she was on the bed, which normally belonged to the guy she detested the most on her list at the moment-the brown-eyed monster with the ridiculously good looks, Tiger.

"Oh... You're awake?" Seemingly not expecting her to open her eyes anytime soon, Warren asked with wide eyes.

Setting his guitar on his side, he rose from the chilly floor to approach her.

He bowed towards her and blinked a few times.

"You're really awake..." He muttered in a low voice.

She gave him a confused, bewildered blink.

Was she not meant to awaken?

Her throat felt too dry for her to produce even a single word as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Hold on, I will get you some water." He gave her a smile and turned to go.

She let out a sigh and tried to shut her eyes once more. Keyword: tried. Because she felt a sharp pain beneath her left eye, which sent a shockwave through her entire body, making her flinch and realize how seriously injured and damaged some parts of her body were.

A hiss decamped her chapped lips, a salty layer of white liquid forming at the corner of her eyes.

She hated it, with all her might, with all her guts. She made a concerted effort to avoid raising their suspicions, avoid falling in their path again, and avoid having to relive those moments. And yet here she was, going through exactly what she hated, being subjected to the horrifying torture again, and sporting those scars that she wished she could erase from her body.

3 years of struggle, just to be shackled with the same bashful chains again. Just to be imprisoned again. Just to be broken again. Just to be treated like an animal again.

Her lips quivered, as a single tear betrayed her control as it stained a path to her temple, disappearing in the pillow.

She sniffed, gulping the lump in her throat, ignoring how her face painfully stung even because of the tiny movements.

Seconds passed by, she laid in the bed silently, listening the chirps of the birds and the buzzing sounds of leaves as they swayed with the cool morning breeze.

She found herself thinking about the previous week, just the previous week, when everything had been normal; she remembered her best friend's hug, the burger they had shared in the canteen, the jokes her classmates made, the time she had spent waiting for her bus to return home, her part-time job, and the building guard's fatherly smile.

More tears trickled out of her wet eyes and settled like pearls on her long, curving lashes. She lost the ability to contain herself. She missed her everyday life, her loved ones, her best friend, her education, her nation, her house, herself, and her ability to be happy.

"Here's your wate- oh-" With a glass of water in his hand, Warren walked back in, pausing midway when he noticed her body trembling and faint sobs escaping her lips.

She felt his presence, she heard him too, but she couldn't stop. As though every self-control mechanism abruptly gave up and betrayed her. At last, all she had been holding inside for the past few days broke and spilled.

She tried to stop her tears, closing her eyes for the remaining drops to fall silkily down her eyes. To accept the fact that all her hard work was in vain, that she was destined to be caged after breaking free was excruciatingly painful.

"Hey, little one...is it paining a lot?" Warren approached the bed slowly, being careful not to step over the line where she might feel threatened.

Yes, it does pains a lot.

She kept crying softly without responding.

Warren was helpless as he stood there, wanting to do anything to make her feel better-that is, to let her know that even though she is no one to him, there is someone who cares-to at least hold her close and comfort her until she stops crying. However, he was uncertain if she would approve of that, if she would consent to him holding her.

After a few minutes, she gathered herself and looked up at the ceiling with hollow, lifeless eyes. Her face pale as if she hasn't ate in a while, which was partially true given her condition.

"Water?" With the glass of water still cupped between his fingers, Warren asked while examining her face marred by tears.

She shifted her attention to the black eyed guy, who was incredibly playing the guitar a few moments ago.

His concerned filled eyes starring into her hollow, depressed ones. However, his doe eyes revealed more than just worry.

Immense pity-a hue she detested in anyone-was reflected in his eyes.

Her throat felt as parched as a desert, but she shook her head gently and refused to drink anything.

Warren chewed on his lower lip, placing the glass on the floor as the bed didn't had any side table.

"Uhm... Then you wanna have something else?"

She shook her head again, she couldn't bring herself to trust them. Furthermore, she lacked the desire to eat or drink anything.

"You know you have to eat something in order to take your medication." She scowled a little at what he said.

Medicines for what?

"Why?" She managed to ask in a low, raspy voice.

"Oh, since you are injured." He answered while scratching his nape.

It sure was awkward to talk to her, she wasn't really friendly.

Do you expect her to be friendly with her kidnappers? His inner voice questioned. He shook his head at his stupidity.

Her frown deepened. The reasons behind his considerate actions were a tangle of doubts and confusion that continued to entwine in her mind. Did he not take her out by himself and stand by silently as those dogs dragged her away? Why then the sudden concern?

Despite everything, she nodded and sat up straight by supporting her weight with her elbows. Even if she doesn't die from the poison, she will die out of hunger. She decided to drop the idea to protest.

She is confident that they will not kill her until they achieve their goals, which she believes will not happen anytime soon.

"What are you doing?" They both looked in the direction of the deep, alluring voice.

Tiger stood there, leaning against the door of the room, with his hands resting in his grey sweatpants and his black T-shirt suited him beautifully. Even though all of his clothing was basic casual wear, he always managed to exude an extraordinary elegance.

"Nothing... I was just...convincing her to eat something." Warren slurred, trying to come with the best choice of words to not hear a boring lecture of his unprofessional professor.

"Um hm, I see." Gradually, he nodded and turned his mesmerizing gaze to Hayat, who continued to stare at him.

Wordlessly, they continued to gaze at one another. Warren narrowed his eyes and moved them slightly between Hayat and Tiger in an attempt to read their expressions and looks.

Hayat seemed to be mad at him, which she had rights to be. A deep frown settled on her face, her perfect black brows furrowed and eyes darkly glaring at Tiger, almost threatening.

Subsequently, he directed his gaze towards Tiger, who was gazing at her with a keen interest burning in his eyes. Although, Warren wasn't sure if he was right in his perception, but the small, enthralling smirk on the latter's lips were quite of an evidence.

Tiger straightened up and turned his head away, letting out a frigid breath as he leaned away from the doorframe.

"Congrats, you won!" Warren gave a cheer and grinned, flashing his famous boxy smile at Hayat, who blinked at him in bewilderment.

"And you lost, Ti."

Tiger squinted his eyes.

"What?"

"You just blinked and looked away first. So, as per the rules, you lost. And she won the eye-contest." He explained, using the straight comical voice and all his hand gestures as if he was really a referee or a judge of a game, ensuring the rules are followed.

"Idiot." Tiger muttered, rolling his eyes and leaving the place.

"Not more than you." Warren bitched.

He casted a quick glance at Hayat, who was sitting there quietly and mindlessly staring at him.

He gave her a small, warm grim, reminding him of that one guy who had a similar beaming, boxy smile. Her heart melted at the memories that flashed through her mind in that short span of time.

"I have hung my clothes in the bathroom for you, since I obviously don't have any girly type of clothes," He let out a small chuckle, then continued, "you can freshen up. I'll bring you food till then. Okay?" He gave her a thumbs up, turning around to leave.

After watching his regaining figure until she could no longer see him, Hayat's gaze settled on the guitar that was propped up on the chilly floor in a corner.

She remembered his lovely smile again, his warm eyes, his cute drawings of her and him, his melodic voice, and everything she had hold onto in hope to see him again. Although, somewhere in her heart, she had accepted that he is no longer in this world, to be found, to be seen. But, as they say, a believer never stops believing.

A sad smile graced her dry lips at the bitter-sweet evocation, as she silently prayed in her heart to be reunited with him, like she always did.

------

Warren entered the room carrying a plate of food and saw that the bed was empty, the sheets crumpled and strewn across the floor.

He shrugged, not judging knowing how much he himself is messy. His things are never on his place.

Placing the plate on the bed, he looked over at the bathroom door, assuming she was probably taking a shower inside.

He nodded to himself, turning to leave but then his eyes caught something.

The window, and his clothes hanging on them in a series.

He approached the window, tripping over the blanket as he did so, anticipating what had happened.

Shit.

A sleeve of his baggy full sleeved T-shirt was knotted tightly to an end of his long denim pants, the other end of the pant was tied to a corner of the blanket, which had it's opposite corner tied to toe of the bed.

His jaw dropped to the floor, mentally praising her intelligence and quick wittedness.

He puffed out, whirling around, knowing he gonna listen to few curses again.

It was nothing new-in a way, his entire existence was a curse.

Tiger was sitting on the couch in the hall, a laptop placed in front of him on the table as he listened to the voice speaking on the other line of the call.

"Ti," Warren called out to him in a haste, earning an instant look from the latter. Seeing the desperate and stressed look on his face, Tiger cut the call after promising the other line that he'll call back again.

"What?" Tiger asked, raising an eye brow.

"She ran away again." Warren blurted out in a one go, zipping his mouth instantly afterwards, ready for the insolent and derisive words which he is used to by now.

"What? What were you doing?" Tiger rose from the couch, his brows furrowed.

"I went to get her some foo-" He tried to explain, but stopped when he saw the other was already sprinting towards the main door.

He sighed, completely taken aback that he had heard nothing at all this time-not even a single "you fucking idiot."

He starred at the door, knowing he don't need to follow Tiger out to find her, he'll catch her in no time.

But deep down, he wished she'll get away this time, he wished Tiger to fail this time.

However, he was the one who was most aware of how nearly impossible it was. He knew what trouble he and Tiger will be in if she runs away, he knew what consequences they both will have to pay if such case was to happen. Despite all that, he couldn't deny the connection he felt with her. He didn't wanted to, he was aware of her final fate too.