With him

The isolation

**Chapter 2: The Isolation**

As the goons stormed into the room, Marry's desperate shouts pierced the air. “Let us go! We haven’t done anything to you! Leave us alone! Why did you kidnap us? At least tell us why!” Her voice was a mix of panic and desperation, an attempt to distract their captors and give Mathew a chance to escape. She was sobbing, her cries for help reverberating off the walls. Yet, the goons seemed indifferent, their laughter echoing in response to her distress.

Mathew, his face slick with sweat and grime, struggled furiously against the ropes binding his wrists. The rough fibers cut into his skin, and every tug sent a fresh wave of pain through his arms. With a final, determined effort, he managed to slip his wrists free. His heart raced as he turned to untie Marry. But before he could act, one of the goons noticed his newfound freedom. The man’s eyes widened in alarm, and he shouted, “He’s free!” The goons immediately turned their attention to Mathew, rushing toward him with menacing intent.

Mathew, despite his fatigue and pain, tried to defend himself, but the odds were against him. The goons, three in total, overwhelmed him with their sheer numbers and brute strength. The blows came relentlessly—punches, kicks, and club strikes that left Mathew battered and struggling to stay conscious. Marry's pleas grew more frantic as she watched Mathew get beaten mercilessly. Her voice, filled with panic, begged them to stop, her fear that Mathew would be seriously hurt palpable.

As the goons continued their assault, Mathew’s vision blurred, and he felt himself slipping into darkness. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Marry’s tear-streaked face, her cries becoming a heart-wrenching sob. The world around him faded into oblivion.

When Mathew finally regained consciousness, the harsh reality of their new surroundings hit him. He found himself in a dark chamber, the only light filtering through a small, grimy window high on the wall. The room was dank and oppressive, with shadows dancing ominously across the walls. A small, rudimentary toilet was the only other feature in the room.

The goons had left, and Marry, her face stained with tears, immediately sprang into action. She tore a piece from her dress, using the delicate georgette fabric to tend to Mathew’s wounds. Despite the makeshift nature of her bandaging, the bleeding seemed to slow. As she worked, her hands trembled, and her tears fell freely, mixing with the grime on the floor.

With her voice choked by emotion, Marry asked softly, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Mathew whispered, his voice strained but tender. “I’m tougher than I look.” He managed a weak smile, trying to reassure her despite the pain.

Marry’s eyes filled with fresh tears as she wrapped her arms around him, seeking solace in his presence. “I just wish we knew who did this and why. What do they want from us?”

Mathew took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure despite the weight of their grim reality. “I’m guessing they’re not just after our good looks,” he said, attempting to lighten the mood with a faint grin.

Marry’s lips quirked into a hesitant smile, and she let out a small, shuddering laugh. The moonlight that filtered through the grimy window cast a soft, silver sheen over the room, creating a fragile sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. Their stomachs growled in unison, a stark reminder of their hunger.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Mathew said, trying to ease the tension. “We should get some sleep.”

Marry nodded, but her attempt at relaxation was interrupted by a high-pitched scream as a mouse scurried across the floor. She jumped, huddling closer to Mathew, her fear evident.

Mathew couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the tension. “Oh come on, it’s just a mouse. I didn’t realize you were so scared of tiny creatures.”

“I can’t help it!” Marry replied, her voice trembling. “I hate mice!”

Mathew’s teasing continued, his laughter a rare but welcome sound in their grim situation. “Maybe a cat could come to your rescue.”

Marry pinched him playfully, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Say you’re sorry, or I’ll keep pinching you.”

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry!” Mathew said, laughing despite the pain. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Their playful banter, though light-hearted, was a fleeting distraction from their harsh reality. The warmth of Mathew’s presence provided Marry with a small comfort, and she nestled her head on his shoulder. The closeness was a soothing balm amidst the bleakness of their confinement.

Mathew, sensing her distress, spoke gently, “So I guess this is our date, huh?”

Marry looked up at him with a mixture of sadness and affection. “If we had food and a candle, I’d have made this a candlelit dinner.”

Mathew’s face darkened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “It’s all because of me. It must be my enemies who did this. But why you? Why did they hurt you? Don’t worry, Marry. I’ll make sure you won’t get hurt. My men will find us, I’m sure of it.”

Marry shook her head, placing her head back on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault that this happened. Please, don’t blame yourself.”

Mathew sighed, the weight of their predicament pressing heavily on him. “But I can’t help but feel responsible. I should have been able to protect you.”

Marry’s voice was soft but firm. “You’ve done everything you could. We’re in this together. Blaming yourself won’t change anything.”

Their shared vulnerability deepened the bond between them. They lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, finding solace in their mutual support. The quiet of the room was punctuated only by their soft, rhythmic breathing.

As they lay together, the darkness of their situation seemed to retreat slightly in the presence of their growing connection. The conversation had shifted from their dire predicament to the fragile comfort they found in each other’s company.

“Do you think we’ll get out of here?” Marry asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m certain of it,” Mathew replied confidently. “We just have to hold on a little longer. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Marry’s eyes softened, and she looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and hope. “Thank you, Mathew. For everything.”

Mathew smiled, his eyes reflecting the soft moonlight. “It’s nothing. I’d do anything for you.”

They continued to talk quietly, sharing stories and dreams, their voices a comforting murmur in the oppressive darkness. The bond between them grew stronger, forged in the crucible of their shared fear and hope.

Eventually, their exhaustion took over. Marry, still clutching Mathew’s hand, drifted off to sleep with her head resting on his shoulder. Mathew, too, succumbed to the weariness, his thoughts mingling with the soft, reassuring warmth of Marry’s presence.

The night wore on, their bodies entwined in a fragile embrace, finding solace in each other amidst the uncertainty of their situation. Despite the dire circumstances, the connection they shared offered a glimmer of hope and comfort, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, they were not alone.