Free God of Destruction by Alyssa Adamson

Slowly, the figure
staggered into a standing position and pulled something from the
pocket of his pants. A dull glow flooded up into the face of the
newest addition to the cave in an orange halo, blinding her for a
short moment. When her eyes finally adjusted to the change, she saw
him.
    Her first taste of human contact, other than
the beatings from people she wasn’t able to see, was a beautiful
specimen. He was, perhaps, one of the tallest men she’d ever seen
with an average, if not slightly above average, muscular physique.
He was dressed well in a classic, black suit, complete with tie,
and his brown hair was slicked back neatly with gel to showcase his
chiseled face. His eyes were crazed, darting around the room with
secret calculation as he surveyed his new surroundings, ready at a
second’s notice to pounce. Janie was positive he couldn’t see
her.
    “Petrov!” the man snarled, scowling furiously
at the door. “Kidnapping? I always thought petty theft was beneath
you! Where are those morals now?” He waited for a moment, but when
he received no answer, he kicked the door and cursed again.
Exhaling deeply, he continued a bit softer, this time to himself,
“I will get out of here, Petrov, and when I do, I’m gonna
kill you.”
    The door swung open, hitting the man in the
face with a force that should have broken his jaw, and sent him
flying into the opposite wall. The orange light fell to the floor,
rolling toward the door and the woman’s foot, where it was crushed
beneath her expensive-looking shoes. Then, it was merely a glowing
liquid on the cement. “I would not sound so sure of myself if I
were you,” she laughed. “After all, I am not the one in a cage; you
are. I could kill you now if I had a wish to, Taran, but I have
something better in mind.”
    Janie couldn’t see it when the man, Taran,
threw himself at the door, recovering so quickly from his recent
head trauma that he had to be superhuman. The sound of a gunshot
and a low grunt of pain, however, were difficult to miss. The dull
flash of the gun illuminated the scene for the amount of time it
took for the bullet to leave the gun and hit home in Taran’s chest,
just below the collarbone, and throw him to the ground. Janie
suppressed another scream while she shook against the cement
wall.
    “Pathetic, Taran,” Petrov tsked, shaking her
head, “just like I remember.” Then, without another word, she
slammed the door behind her, plunging them back into the pitch
black, without even help from the glow stick.
    The silence stretched on with only his
staggered breathing and pained moans occasionally breaking it.
Janie didn’t speak to the other prisoner for fear that he would
disappear if she acknowledged him. She didn’t dare breathe too
loudly.
    “Stupid,” her companion whispered
breathlessly to himself as he snarled through another wave of
agony. “So stupid.”
    Knowing that there was absolutely nothing she
could do for him, she deadpanned, “You won’t die.” She cleared the
hoarseness in her throat from lack of use. “She’ll want to keep you
around.”
    The gasping halted for a long moment. “Who
said that?” the voice inquired evenly. His suit crinkled when he
tried to reach his feet.
    “Don’t get up!” she pleaded.
    “I asked you a question!” he demanded, though
his attempt to stand seemed to end. “Who are you?”
    “My name is Janie; I swear to God, I was
kidnapped, too!” she insisted, hoping this would silence his
outburst before the woman came to investigate.
    He breathed a long sigh of relief. “Thank
God. Can you give me a hand with this?”
    She gulped and tried unsuccessfully to move.
“I can’t move,” she confessed, “my leg is broken.”
    There was a crack and another glow stick
sprung to life. At first he held it up in the air while he lay on
his back, trying to get a better look at Janie’s face. After his
first inspection proved nothing miraculous, if only for the amount
of dirt smeared across