POLITE KIDNAPPERS

SIENNA’S POV:

“Are you trying to make a mess of my day, or is this just a talent of yours?” Sebastian yelled, glaring daggers at me, his face red with anger. His hand gripped the coffee cup and the next second it was tumbling right at me, leaving me a split second to dodge it. I missed it by an inch, but a few shards of glass still managed to slice through my skin, causing me to bleed. I winced at the sudden pain, confusion clouded my thoughts as I wondered what the reason for his outburst was this time around. Yet, I held back, I couldn’t even utter a single word of protest. 

“Making a cup of coffee isn’t rocket science. You can’t just do anything right” He snapped, his voice tight with an edge of annoyance. His jaw was tight, an evidence of how angry he was. I stood there, silent, arms at my sides, letting his words roll over me without any form of reaction. I’d learned long ago that fighting back was a lost cause. The more I stayed quiet, the more his ego seemed to crack.

He shot to his feet, his steps quick as he strode past me. At the foot of the stairs, he halted, half-turning with a scowl etched on his face. His gaze darted to the shards of glass on the floor, and then his eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t just stand there, clean this place up.” He muttered, his voice hard. Without waiting for a response, he strode up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room until they faded.

A sigh escaped my lips as I fell on my kneel, and began picking up the pieces of glass. I didn’t need to turn around to sense the prescence of the servants hiding around. Their judgement was clear from their scornful gazes, which cut through the silence, as sharp as knives at my back.I could hear the whispers, soft chuckles, mocking me for the fact that, I—the wife of their boss had been lowered to such a state.

Martha, one of the maids stepped forward, with a rag in her hand.“Ma’am, let me do that.” She knelt beside me, waiting for me to stop so that she could take over.

“No need Martha, go carry on your work” Making others perform my duty wasn’t something I liked. Martha had worked with us for a while and she was nothing short of an angel.

“Ma’am, you’re bleeding, go treat your wound while I clean up” Martha insisted, gesturing towards my injuries. Her brows were furrowed in concern, as her gaze shifted between my wound and face.

I could feel the pity in her gaze, and it weighed on me like a heavy blanket. I hated it—being looked at with pity— It only increased the weakness I was trying so desperately to hide and escape from.

I opened my mouth to reject her offer, but before I could speak, she cut me off.“I insist.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room for refusal. 

Taking a breath of resignation, I stood up. “You’re an angel” I sighed, shooting her a forced smile. She was older than me and had worked for the family long before I came into the picture. She had been nothing but nice to me, even when all the odds were turned against me.

I dragged my tired body up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The cut on my leg kept sending excruciating pain through me, but I ignored it. I paused on reaching our room, Sebastain was sure to be inside, and would definitely not want to see my face now. His anger was like a violent storm, that I wasn’t ready to confront, especially not now.

I walked past the room with my head held low, and my steps heavy as I walked into a guest room. Opening the closet, a few of my clothes were neatly arranged, as well as my daily necessities.

Sighing, I picked out an outfit and laid it out. “At this point, this place could be considered as my room.”

I slid off my dress, picked up a towel, and strolled into the bathroom.

The bathroom was quiet, the only sound was the steady drip of water as it hit the tiles. I stood under the icy water, letting it pour over me, hoping it could numb the hollow ache inside. Each drop felt sharp against my skin, like the prick of a thousand sharp needles, but I welcomed it. At least it was real, and I could feel it.

I glanced down at my leg, and the gash was still there glaring at me, bruised and swollen as the cold water washed off the blood. It was pulsed with a dull, persistent pain. I pressed my fingers against it, feeling the sting flood through me, the pain mixed with the icy chill that soaked my skin. It was weirdly easier, to hold onto this—this raw, tangible hurt—than to face the emptiness eating at me. At least this way, I’m sure I’m still alive.

I closed my eyes and let the water wash away the tears I hadn’t realized were flowing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How were you injured?” The doctor asked for the third time in a row. 

“I accidentally dropped a glass of coffee, and some shards of glass pierced my skin” I repeated my story, with a flat tone, not missing a beat. I’d repeated the same words, three times now, and for some reason, he didn’t buy it.

I had applied some medicine on the wound and decided to go the hospital for a shot, to prevent getting an infection. But the doctor had demanded to inspect the wound, and reluctantly I had agreed. 

“How could you just put on a bandage without getting it checked? They’re still shards of glass in there, also this is deep and needs to be stitched.”

“How could you be so careless?”

“Only a shot and it would be okay, you young ones are really carefree with your health.”

“You seem to be married dear, where’s your husband?”.........

He had ranted on and on while checking it, I understood he was concerned, but it drove me nuts, especially when he pressed about my husband.

I had been given some anesthesia and couldn’t feel the pain while he stitched it, but I was sure it was going to hurt as hell when it did wear off.

The doctor placed the final stitch and bandaged the wound. “Phew, glad that’s over” I muttered under my breath, but from the look, the doctor shot me, I wasn’t quiet enough.

“Alright here are some drugs, make sure you take them promptly” The doctor handed me some medicines and began instructing me on how to take them, but I zoned him out. “These should be taken daily and….” I was pretty sure he had written down the prescription.

I stood up to leave when he finally stopped, but he began speaking again, “Do not engage in strenuous activities so as to not stretch your stitches, keep the area dry, change the bandage properly,.....” He recited a row of instructions. I felt touched and warm from his worry, but this was just a small cut, there was nothing to fuss about.

When I finally walked out of the hospital, I took a deep breath. The air there was really suffocating. Though the old man fussed a lot, he truly cared for me, that was not my first time there, and he knew something was wrong but never actually informed the police nor tried to dig around.

The weird glances I got from people, reminded me of the fact that I was standing there like a weirdo, with a slight smile on my face. I hadn’t even noticed when a smile crept onto my face.

Taking out my phone and glancing at the time, It was past five. Sebastian, was nowhere to be seen, when I had left for the hospital, but I dropped off a message with the servants, informing him of my whereabouts. He hadn’t called, even once since I left home, though I was used to it, I still felt a numb pain.

I clenched my arms by my side, and began walking, muttering the same sentence continuously, “It’s Okay.”

I really didn’t want to go home, but I couldn’t stay out late. He stayed out late almost on a daily basis, but if I did that, it was just asking for trouble.

Two men dressed in black suits walked up to me, saying, “Ma’am please come with us.” I couldn’t see their faces clearly, because they were wearing dark shades.

They had this trained, refined but dangerous aura around them. I hadn’t messed with anyone, or were they Sebastian’s enemies? My mind worked on speed dial as different questions flooded through it. But something was not right, why were they being so polite?

“I’m going nowhere” I scoffed attempting to walk past them, but they grabbed my arm, their grips firm but not painful, I could see they were trying their best not to hurt me, which was odd.

“Ma’am, please we don’t want to use force” One of them spoke, his expression flat and devoid of any emotion.

“No” I yelled trying to shrug off their arms. They looked conflicted for a second but began dragging me towards a car parked not so far away. I trashed around trying to struggle free, as my heart pounded, but it was all to no avail because I was soon shoved into the car.

Having stopped struggling, a piercing pain shot through me. Looking down at my legs, my pants were soaked in blood that area I had a cut. “Damnit, the stitches must have torn” I whispered under my breath.

The universe really had a sick way of understanding things, I did say I didn’t want to go home, but I didn’t want to be kidnapped also. I looked as the buildings and streetlights sped by, I had no idea where we were going, and if I would ever return, but weirdly I didn’t feel scared. Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing to my head, but I felt something—something different.