|Roxanna Fielding (bang_a_drum) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2014-10-20 00:14:00
|Entry tags:||hermes, jameson kemp, lena rainmayr, roxanna fielding, saint anthony, thomas kemp|
Who: Roxanna, Hermes, Jamie, Thomas, Lena, token appearance by Anthony
What: Please take me home
When: Backdated to Thursday, the 16th
Where: Kemp duplex, abandoned warehouse, hospital
Warnings: Kidnapping and the aftermath, violence, drugs, language, god-smashing, TBD
It had been over a week now since Jamie had last seen Roxanna, and he was starting to go out of his mind. He'd talked to the police every day for almost a week, and had finally gotten the polite version of 'don't call us, we'll call you'. It had been after that that he'd begged Anthony's number off Lena and called him, explaining the situation. Anthony had turned up within the hour, map of the city in tow, and set up camp in the dining room.
Jamie took to pacing around the house, wearing tracks in the carpet as the cats watched. "You'll make yourself dizzy," Anthony remarked, not looking up from his map. "Please, Jamie, sit down before you fall down."
Jamie threw himself into one of the empty chairs, letting his forehead smack gently against the table. "I just feel so useless," he muttered against the tabletop. "I wish I could do something to help."
"From what I'm given to understand, you've been at the police station every day for the past five," Anthony countered. "You've called her friends. You called me. You have done everything it is within your power to do. Adding guilt to yourself helps nothing."
"You clearly don't know me at all," Jamie joked dryly, and Anthony smiled faintly. "I think Catholic guilt trumps everything else. Well, Franciscan, but then we're getting into theology and various sects, and I'm almost positive you don't care."
"I'll care all day once she comes home," Jamie sighed. Anthony finally looked up, offering him a steadfast, solid gaze. "I have faith," he told Jamie. "All will be well. It wouldn't even work if she wasn't still alive."
Halfway across the city, Roxanna was definitely still technically alive, but certainly not well. She was underfed, dehydrated, and exhausted. She stank, there were shadows under her eyes, and she'd gained a new feature: track marks on the inside of her elbow. Her captors had taken to dosing her with drugs to keep her quiet, and while they did their job very effectively, they also gave her nightmares. If she awoke with them still in her system, those nightmares tended to bleed into the waking world.
She'd lost track of how much time had passed. She'd long ago stopped hoping that someone would come to her rescue. Now...now she was just waiting to die.