The Nerdy Prince and His Nemesis.

Chapter Three. IT.

Chapter Three. IT.

The rhythmic thud of the windscreen wipers moving back and forth was the only indication that, wherever Ronnie Callaghan was in the world, it was raining. Four days she presumed, but was not entirely sure, had passed since she had been bundled into the back of a van, a hessian bag over her head. She knew that it was daylight when they moved her, the small streams of light penetrating the tiny holes in the material which covered her head informing her of that small nugget of information. It was the first light she had seen in over six months. For a few moments she had fresh air to breath, before her trussed up body was deposited into the back of her mobile jail cell. She had attempted to listen, memorise the twists and turns the van had taken on this long journey. But, as she didn’t have any knowledge of where she was being held originally, it was of little use. However, noting these tiny details, kept her mind alert, as she listened for any clue as to where they were taking her.

The burn in her shoulders from her hands being restrained behind her had become painful hours ago. Her bladder was full to the point of bursting, she constantly needed to clench her thighs together, in a desperate attempt to halt any accident every time the van hit a small bump or pothole in the road. Her captors rarely stopped for a bathroom break. The only time they did allow her out to relieve herself, was at night, and every time they were in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to give away her position. It was once per day the hessian bag was removed from her head, a sandwich and bottle of water thrown at her, and she welcomed the hour or so, she was free from her restraints whilst eating her food. The movement of the van jostled her fragile body against the metal sides, a shooting pain moving up her spine, as she shifted uncomfortably attempting to give her body a reprieve.

One thing she had noticed, over the past few days, was the fog from the past year or more which had clouded her brain was beginning to fade. They still injected her with wolfsbane daily, but the dose was lower, giving her back some brain and physical functionality. Ronnie sighed internally. She missed her family and mourned her wolf. It had been years since she last heard the sweet voice of Orla in her mind, the wolfsbane subduing the warrior wolf. Ronnie fully believed that her counterpart was gone, the gorgeous red wolf losing the will and ability to live. She did not know if that was a good thing or not. Yes, she missed the other part of herself to the point of physical pain, but at the same time, the thought that Orla was no longer tortured, living in agony inside her, was, in a strange way, a source of comfort.

Ronnie’s mind wandered to her wolf, remembering the day of her first shift, a small smile teetered on her lips.

Everything between Ronnie and Reggie, her twin brother, had been a competition to see who did what first. Both had wanted the accolade that meant little to anyone else but the twins, of shifting first. Ronnie had been the first born, Reggie the first to say ‘Dada’, by approximately two hours. Ronnie had been the first to crawl, again by only a day, whilst Reggie the first to make those tentative steps, before falling onto his bottom. Baby Ronnie was not to be outdone, and with in ten minutes was up on her feet, according to her Mam. All the major milestones in their life became a competition and a source for bragging rights, and many an argument. She had been 14 years of age when sitting in her bedroom with Venus. The pair of them swooning over some boy band or other. She had gotten hot, then became snappy. Thankfully her best friend recognised what was going on, as she herself had shifted six months prior. The pain of her first shift she will never forget, as Venus helped her downstairs to her parents, only to find Reggie crying out himself. However, as much as the twins had fought, the moment they were together the pain became manageable for them, and their shifts completed, at exactly the same time. Oscar, and Orla had nuzzled against each other, showing their love, until Oscar pissed off Orla, and the pair of them begun to fight, the sibling rivalry as strong with the wolves as it was with the human side, much to the amusement of her pack, and frustration of their long-suffering parents.

The van shuddered to a halt, before she heard the doors at the front open, the footsteps moving towards the rear. Relief flooded her system, knowing that she was about to have a bathroom break. However, the knowledge that she would soon be able to squat down behind a tree made her body even more urgent to ‘go’ and she let out a small whimper, clenching her pelvic floor muscles into a vice type grip.

The double doors at the back of the van opened, as two guards stood glaring at her.

“Move it!” the guard who she vaguely remembered had brought her food one per day when locked in the damp dark cold cell for however long she had resided there, growled at her.

Shuffling on her bottom toward the smell of crisp, fresh air, she felt the hessian hood being pulled from her head. Her long corkscrew red curls fell down passed her shoulders, as the guard unceremoniously dragged her from the van.

“Don’t try anything, b***h,” his low voice filled with loathing informed her. Blinking her eyes to clear her vision Ronnie attempted to look around. But they were, as always stopping in the dead of night and middle of nowhere. No clue as to where they were, or which direction they were heading. Her eyes easily focused, in the pitch black of night, and it gave Ronnie a little bit of hope, that possibly, Orla was still inside her, dormant, asleep. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, and as much as she would love for her wolf to be alive, part of her hoped that she was gone. The thought of Orla in suffering inside her, made Ronnie feel sick to the stomach.

She noted the dark shadows of huge imposing mountains surrounding her, the scent of pine trees filling her nostrils, a little clue as to her whereabouts. Something she stored in her memory, to be recalled upon should she ever need the information.

The metal handcuffs were unlocked as the guard grabbed the back of the thin thread bare t-shirt, they had given her to wear and shoved her towards some long grass.

She had learned long ago that not a modicum of privacy would be given to her, the guards never letting her out of their sight, when on a bathroom break. Another thing she noticed was that with each day, the temperature would drop lower, by around a couple of degrees, which made her believe that she was, likely heading north.

“Hurry the f**k up,” the guard growled as she squatted in the long grass. His accent Spanish accent thick.

“Jorge, we need to move,” the other guard shouted, his Russian accent making him sound even more menacing than her Spanish guard.

Ronnie heard, what she presumed to be some curse words muttered under the Spaniard’s breath.

“Finish. Now!” Jorge commanded her.

Finally, the long stream of urine that she had waited so long to release came to a halt. She pulled up the raggy old leggings she had on and was once more man handled to the back of the van, before Jorge manhandled her onto the hard metal floor. Boris threw a bag at her, which would contain her food and water, and she knew she would have around an hour, possible ninety minutes of time, to stretch out in the van, her arms free, as she ate, before they would come to a stop, restrain her once more, and place the bag over her head.

Ronnie greedily ripped open the plastic packaging that contained her sandwich, pulling the bread filled with prawns, straight to her mouth, as the Van’s engine roared into life, and they were moving once more. She glanced at the packaging, but as usual the labels had been ripped off, affording her no indication of what country she was in. She was both proud and annoyed that these guards were not underestimating her.

With her hunger pangs somewhat sedated, and her bladder empty, Ronnie lay back against the side of the vehicle, relishing the fact that her shoulders no longer burned, exhaustion took over and she unwittingly closed her eyes.

Ronnie peaked around the corner of the room. It was not the home she knew, but it felt familiar all the same. Lucas, Max, Prince Hamish and Prince Asher were sitting on a long blue corner sofa, watching a huge TV that sat on the wall. She wanted to be with her big brother, not with Reggie, stuck playing with the other tiny pups. However, Lucas had told her that she could not come, no matter how much she cried, or threw her body onto the floor, stomping her arms and legs. She was not very tall in her dream, and a part of her consciousness believed her to be around two years old. She quietly commando crawled, wanting to be with her big brother and his friends, hiding behind the sofa. Scary music filled the air from the TV.

“Remember. We don’t tell anybody we are watching this film,” Prince Asher said to the younger boys.

Young Ronnie peaked around the corner to see what her brother and his friends were watching, to find a clown emerging from a sewer. She liked clowns, and so remained as quiet as a mouse as she watched the film.

Suddenly the clown was not fun anymore, and Ronnie heard herself screaming in terror.

The sound of a scream woke Ronnie up from her dream, the van shuddering to a halt, as Jorge moved around the back.

“You f*****g b***h. Do you want to be gagged?” he spat at her.

“Bad dream,” she told him, not wanting him to hear the fear in her voice.

Jorge huffed, and pulled the hessian bag over her head, then roughly took her arms and pulled them behind her, securing them with the handcuffs once more.

Ronnie let out a sigh, as the rear doors to the van closed with a bang.

The dream was a memory. Nobody could stop her screams that day, only Prince Hamish had managed to calm her. But it was too late, the King had entered the room, and Prince Asher, her brother, Max and Prince Hamish were given punishments for watching the horror film. For days, Ronnie remembered not being able to sleep. Once again, she only relaxed when Prince Hamish was with her. It is why she had used a clown with her secret messages imbedded into the code, her captors thinking she was taunting the royals, but it was a clue to the Nerdy Prince, of who she was, and how she, once more, needed him to help her.