Card Captor Sakura 1. Day One

—**Ransom—**

**Rated M: **_for good measure_

**Disclaimer: **_CCS belongs to Clamp and all of its affiliations. Story details belong to Immortal-Blood_

…

…

…

CHAPTER ONE: Day One

…

….

..

The moon was large and bright, lighting up the trail that led up a large hill. A wide dirt path angled in two directions; up to the dark sky, covered by tall, bare trees and to the left and down a windy path of dust and rocks. The branches stretched out at the top of the first path began to wave like long strangling arms ready to snatch at the first sight of clothes. The darkness hid creatures of the night; critters that lived for the thrill of a sunless environment as they roamed the ground for food and adventure. A shiver ran down the spine of a girl as she jogged slowly up the hill, trying to beat time and exhaustion together. Sweat caked against her back, sticking her nylon clothing as she tried to reach the top in one go. Stopping in the middle, she felt the cold night enter her lungs and sprinted the rest of the way up. Her shoes squeaked with sweat, beginning to tear at the seams of her heels as she kicked at rocks in her way. Once at the top of the large hill, the trees angling to snatch her by the cusps of her jeans, she let out a triumphant yell. She'd made it. Turning around she stared down at the dark trial she just ran, wondering how long it would have taken her to walk up the path.

The large moon created her as she turned back North, taking in gulps of cold air. Her lungs protested the harsh treatment, reminding her that it was getting colder by the minute. Lifting her arms above her head, jacket tightening around her elbows as she tried to expand her lungs more, she stared at the harvest moon of October. It was the largest full moon she'd ever seen, glowing a rich orange and white as it hung in the dark sky. One hand went out to reach it, fingers trailing along the outline in curiosity. Even though the moon was light-years away, it felt like it was right in front of her face. Bringing her hand back, she took in another few large gulps of ice-cold air and started to walk slowly down the path. She needed to get home. It was Halloween, the night when all the creeps and ghouls came out. Judging by the height of the moon and the temperature of the night, the actual holiday had come to an end for the city. The sweat between her toes made climbing down the hill hard, feet slipping in her shoes and in turn making balance tough. Twice she lost her balance at the odd angle of walking downwards, once she slipped down a good few feet before using her knee as leverage to stop. The burn of the new scrap had her pausing, examining the damage to her jeggings.

Branches rattled, leaves brushing against one another as something dove by. Heart beat skipping a beat, she glanced up and around. The large moon lit up most of the night, allowing her to see each tree and bush surrounding her. One tree stood up, reaching for the sky with bare limbs. She stared at the plant for a long time, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark parts of the trunk. Whether it was her mind playing tricks on her or the shadows were alive, she was sure that something was there. Scrapped jeggings forgotten, she started back down the path with a little more pace to it. Nearing a run, she kept her calm and gradually climbed down the slope of the hill until she was at the bottom. One look back at the tree had the hair on her body rise, goose bumps lighting up a shiver right through her bones. Branches were moving, waving at her in a farewell. It sent her adrenaline pumping, sending her into flight. The dirt path went on and on, reminding her of the choice to take the shortcut home. Legs pumping, chest hurting, she ran until she couldn't run anymore.

Stopping next to a mesh of bushes and stumps, she stared at the path her legs carried her from and squinted. Feeling foolish when she didn't see anything following her, she sat down on the stump and breathed. Adrenaline still burned through her bloodstream, heart racing as she tried calming down. Sweat beaded her forehead, trailing down her temple and disappearing into her clothing. Stripping off her jacket she let the cold numb her skin, soothing her. Home was still a few miles away, cut down in half by taking the back way into the woods. A part of her could already hear her older brother scolding her for being out late, for missing the city bus and allowing her cell phone battery to die. He was the protective sort, unlike their father who didn't even notice she left the University at all even when she told him she would be going home. He was a professor at the local University, running four classes and researching archeology on the side. She had thought maybe just once, if she helped out with grading papers, he'd be home early and enjoy a night with his family. Little did she know his four classes all had an exam that day, plus he had discovered something in his work that kept him from even glancing at the exam papers.

Heart finally an even beat, she looked up at the dark sky and let out a depressed sigh. Her mother died of a disease, too early. She left a huge indent in her father's life and in the lives of her children. She couldn't remember much of her mother, only that she had been a loving woman to the very end, when she wasn't allowed to see her children anymore. A single tear slipped down her face and she wiped it away quickly. A tickle weaved around her nose, enticing a sneeze. Throwing her head back she sneezed and froze in place hearing another sound from deep in the woods. Eyes wide, heart like thunder in her ears, she stared at nothing. Feeling another sneeze come her eyes began to water as she forced herself to stiff it up, holding it back and making no noise as she sneezed into arm. The second noise came again, this time louder and closer than the first. Not wanting to waste time pondering on what could be out there, she made a run for it. Solid warmth smashed into her, strong arms covered in a coarse cloth wrapping around her. She screamed, sending an owl to take flight in a shrill response. Something cold met with her nose, covering her mouth and silencing her without a second to pass. Eyes closing, everything went black.

In the darkness he watched them, eyes wobbling from a recent inhalation. His brain tried to catch up to what he just witnessed, unsure and confused. He heard the scream as if it came from his own throat. Crows had taken flight by the blood curdling cry, had shocked him into a small heart attack until he realized it was coming from a few feet away. He witnessed a tall, broad-shouldered individual just snatch a girl half his size and toss her over his shoulder as if she was air. Heart down to his stomach, he remained in the darkness and pulled out his cell phone only to stop. No one would believe him, not with his nose burning with a sensation that sent his eye-sight to wobble and weave twenty-miles a second. Licking dry lips, tongue like leather as he swallowed a lump in his throat he pushed off his spot on the large oak tree and followed them silently. He was sure it was a dream, a trip from the drug he just took. No way did someone just get snatched right before his eyes and they not even notice him sitting there—he'd been there for at least an hour—and still they hadn't seen him. The girl had sneezed and he had toked up, only for the girl to scream and fall silent just as fast.

**3:53 A.M. **

A door opened and closed, startling him awake. Staring blurry-eyed at the tall figure in the threshold he let out a sigh. "Where's Sakura…?" his voice was groggy, barely awake with his mind. The question startled the older man, the light flicking on with one snap.

"Haven't seen her." The statement was so simple, so uncaring it made him stare in astonishment. This was their father, the man responsible for giving them life. Running a hand over his face, he got to his feet and glanced at the clock. "Call her," was the second statement and he couldn't help but let out a laugh at his father's unconcern. He had dark rings under his already baggy sockets, a two-day insomnia in the works.

"Sure dad." Squinting through the haze of sleep, he watched as he slipped out of his coat and hung it, followed closely by his scarf. "Any leads on the new discovery?" he had to ask, his father only ever talked about the dig now. At the interest, brown eyes looked up. They were red-rimmed and black from lack of sleep, the indentation from glasses marked the bridge of his nose. Before his father could answer the question, his phone buzzed to life. One hand up, he answered it with a flurry of limbs and walked out of the room as if the first question hadn't even popped up. Shaking his head, he pulled out his own phone and dialed his sister. The answering machine had his heart skipping a beat eyes glued to the dark floor. Leaving a message, he hung up and sent a text as well.

There was one thing he knew about his younger sister and that was she had the tendency to let her phone die. Hoping she had decided to go to her friends' house to stay, he walked up the flight of stairs to his room. The dark house was quiet, only the buzzing of electronics echoing through the large building. Passing her room, he stopped and gazed in. One fleeting thought had him wishing she was like regular teenagers, the ones that climb in through their windows at odd hours pretending they'd been home all along. He knew Sakura though. She either didn't come home or she was home early, there was never the latter. Making a face, he continued pass her silent room to his and got ready for bed. In the morning he'd call her friends and bug her, reminding her of the responsibilities of having a cell phone. With that final thought, he fell asleep.

**5:16 A.M. **

It had been hard to follow them. His legs carried his weight all the way to an alley way shrouded in darkness and two red glowing lights. Seeing the dots his body froze taken in by the design of an olds-mobile back lights. They reminded him of a demon judging his present state, the tail pipe blowing out smoke as an angry face glowered at his stoned expression. If it weren't for his numb throat and leathery taste in his mouth, he would have continued to follow them. In his minds eye he still remembered the demon watching him, glaring at him to hide behind a dumpster. The broad-shouldered man had tossed the girl into the trunk of the car. A solid thump sounded back to him, going right through his bones as he stared through the haze of hot steam and red flashes. They stayed in place for what seemed like hours. He could hear them arguing over something, a woman's voice deep as she roughly swore vengeance. It wasn't until he felt the pressure of the sun rising and the heat of the olds-mobile's exhaust, did he begin to sober up.

There was no inner demon or inner angel guiding him, his mind was already clouded by an addiction of need and obsession. As they continued to sit there in the dark alley, the red glow of the back lights looming strangely back to him, he couldn't help it. His mind kept saying just one more intake. They were still sitting there like ducks, anyway. The buildings towered as high as the sky now turning a rich blue, one window propping open in a gust of air as someone residing within threw out a pale of water. It startled no one. Eyes sharpening, he fell for his conscious mind and indulged in his addiction. The burning sensation rocked him back until his body was pressed against the dirty wall. Eyes closed as he took in a new sense, an acid taste slowly sliding down his wind-pipe until it settled around his lungs and empty stomach. Pulse quickening, body shaking, he stared at his surroundings with new eyes. The question of why he was there arose and fell. The olds-mobile continued to rumble at the far end, one voice loud as she argued about nonsense. It still felt like a dream, unreal and confusing. Pupils large, his eyes started to water as he stared at the license for too long.

He felt like Superman, his dark gaze turning into lasers. If only he could see through the metal, see the female in the trunk alone and frightened, then he could be the hero for once. The world saw him as a pretty rich boy, spoiled and snobby. To them he was a lost cause with enough money to bail him out of problems and debts. Not him. He saw himself as Superman, chest like a racing stallion as he stared daggers at the license plate covered in enough dirt to be considered mold. Then it happened, as he swallowed dry saliva, as the car hummed into drive, and as the sun began to light up like a torch the tail light shattered into a million pieces. She was fighting back. The mysterious girl from the woods was trying to escape. His dream was becoming a reality, his desire to truly be Superman as she forced a foot out and back in, more of the tail light shattering to the ground as they drove away. They were rounding a corner when he stepped out from behind the dumpster. The sun blinded him as the light came through someone's window, bouncing back to him in a blind rage. He was one minute too late as the car disappeared and a cry of salvation escaped a tired girl.

"Hey! What the hell you doing down there kid!?" someone shouted from above and he froze, looking up. A battle erupted in his mind as his pulse quickened and his super powers began to dissipate. They yelled again and he took off running after the car, feeling the full force of his recent inhalation. It burned his lungs and heart, burned his throat as he swallowed dry spit continuously, breathing harshly.

He didn't understand why he was running after the car. It had an unnatural speed beyond his years. All he knew was the desire to be the superhero of his dreams and save the girl from the woods. He didn't care about the drugs, only that someone was snatched before his eyes. He couldn't do a thing but watch it happen and a part of him felt responsible for the incident. He'd seen her at the top of the hill, forcing him back into the shadows of a massive oak tree. He'd seen her frighten and look at her surroundings and all he'd done was take one more hit. Everyone in his life saw him as a failure. Not once had he cared about what the world thought of him; not his mother nor his cousin and they were the only two important people in his life. As he continued to run after the familiar pair of demon eyes, he felt the extent of the drugs boiling in his blood stream, bringing him down. He'd allowed a complete stranger to be taken from his eyesight and carried away like a sac-of-potatoes. He didn't even know her and yet he was running full out for her as she shoved her foot out of the tail light once again, a trail of blood leaving the demons mouth.

At the end of the alley way the car came to a halt, a tall female stepping out in a hurry. Her jeans were ripped and sewn back together, black shirt opened in the back revealing a tattoo the size of her body. He rocked to a halt as well, out of breath and blind with drug-fever. The stranger didn't see him as she popped open the trunk to the car, towel in hand as the girl they held screamed blood murder in her face. An arm came out as he heaved for breath, lungs burning for salvation, stomach aching to convulse. They were so far away as he held out his arm, minds eye strangling the stranger as she in turn slapped her victim back into the trunk of the car. The silence that fell reminded him that his ears were ringing with the roar of his rage and drugs'; reminding him that running was probably not such a good idea after all. Throat too numb to speak, he forced his legs to move as the girl fell back unconscious and the trunk slammed shut. The demons eye winked at him as the car rocked into motion, one eye missing as the trunk thumped opened once, twice, and shut as they bounced into full traffic. Still he ran, seeing only a pair of frightened green eyes.

The early morning held a handful of cars as morning routines came to life. Coming to the opening of the alley, he looked around in desperation. His pulse raced, stomach hurt, and throat burned. A man wearing a business suit stared at him strangely, phone to his ear as he gawked in mute silence. Ignoring him, he ran after the direction the car went in hopes he could keep up. He still didn't know why he was running after them. She was a complete stranger with no relations to his usual life style. The drug he surprisingly wished he hadn't of taken was wearing thin as he ran up the street and into the middle of the road, narrowly missing getting smashed by a Mini-Cooper. Horn blared, racing into his blood stream to kick start his heart as he stared in blindness at the yellow paint job. Frowning, he flipped them off and continued to run in the middle of the street following the white line of traffic. From his vantage point he could see the olds-mobile rusted by rain, demon-eye still winking at him from afar, tire flat from the bounce out of the alleyway. They were stopped at the first street light, buzzing with the handful of cars surrounding it. Another car blared to life and he whirled around to stare at them.

"What the fuck you doing in the middle of the road!?" the cars owner roared from the safety of their vehicle. The window barely cracked opened so they could yell out in frustration.

"Get out of the road, junkie!?" someone else said.

"I need your car." He found himself saying, leather tongue tasting like acid as he spoke for the first time in hours. Jaw bone cracked, body shudder at the new sensation and he leaped for the drivers door. "I need your car, now." He said with more force as the door fell open and the man stared at him.

"Get the—!"

"Here," pulling out his wallet he threw it at him and shoved him out of the car with enough force to scrap the man's chin. His leg was already pressing down on the gas before the door shut, ignoring all safety laws and following after the car with enough speed to race through his body like a blanket. The owner stared in confusion at the thief then at the wallet in his hands.

"I just called the cops, you okay sir?" someone said and he nodded, pulling out the first card.

"I just got robbed by Syaoran Li." He blinked in confusion and stared at his car rounding a corner, tires squealing a cry of misery. Everyone knew him, but they didn't _know _him.

**8:17 A.M.**

Different smells hit her senses before her mind fully woke up. Dust reeked of cold metal and sulfuric acid, sweat lingered from her run in the woods, and the hot scent of burnt cookies brought her eyes to open. Her heart fell down to her stomach as she stared at nothing and everything. Unfamiliar surroundings assaulted her mind as she leaped to her feet, crashing to the cold dirt floor a moment later. A pulsating pain enveloped her head as she stared at the ground. Something crawled over her fingers and disappeared, a scream erupting from her throat a second later. Realizing there was no echo with the force of her cry, she went silent just as fast. Sitting up slowly she looked around with new eyes. The dust smell was from the dirt she laid on, the cold metal coming from the pipes low enough to hang on. a sliver of light came from a window too small and narrow to crawl through, a wire mesh covering any possible escape even if she was the size of a rodent. Panic overcame her senses and she scrambled to the narrow hole, screaming at the top of her lungs until her throat burned.

A rumble of pipes hitting the wall silenced her immediately as she stared in mute horror at the long cords of pipes pulsated and threatening to burst. Droplets of water sprinkled her face, the sulfuric acid burning her skin until she moved back to the little indentation her body made earlier. Shaking uncontrollably, she touched her cheek and winced pulling away. Wherever she was she wanted out and now. The fight-or-flight response felt stronger now as little flashbacks from earlier entered her mind and disappeared. A spider went across the floor next to her foot and she took fast, gulping breaths to ease the pain wrapping around her middle. The rumbling pipes went silent and she slid over to the window, screaming out for help until she couldn't scream anymore. Dry mouth, she swallowed a lump and continued to scream and cry, hollering and hoarsely, desperately begging to be released. Tears burned her cheek and she let her body collapse against the cold wall, feeling the cold damp pressure of wood. The sliver of light wouldn't last forever she knew that by the way it shifted when a cloud passed outside her containment.

Little by little she raked her mind with reasons behind her kidnapping, why the stranger in the woods took her, why the person in the car had knocked her out until she bled into unconsciousness. A lump on the back of her skull proved she'd hit her head hard enough for a concussion. Itchy dry skin around her mouth and nose just proved they used a chemical to force her unconscious. Her mind was screaming with the need to escape, evaporating all commonsense. Crying openly, she let the tears burn her injured cheek, taking in the pain. Part of her wished she'd listened to her older brother, all the times he'd argued with her about getting a car. Part of her wished she used the University's main line to call him to pick her up instead of going the back way home. Another part of her wished she never even took the back way home. she'd been so sure her brother would be furious about how late she'd been out, her common sense hadn't bothered warning her that the woods on a Halloween night was a bad decision.

Her gaze darted around the small space, taking in the wall-to-wall confinement and pipes. It was obvious she was underneath a house, the dirt soaking up the drips of acid and water coming from all angles of the rectangular space. A cobweb hung low in the far corner, the sliver of light shining on the droplet of water sprinkling the dirt and web covering. A cockroach skittered away from the light, forcing her to scoot closer to it, not wanting the bugs to find her. Her stomach growled for food, her throat burning for water. Exhaustion claimed sanction as she settled with concentrating on staying comfortable in her one spot underneath the pipes. Her leggings were ripped and her jacket was sticking to her back, blood caking to the underside of her pant line. Her eyes began to close, the initial shock of being taken finally putting a toll on her body. At least she was willingly going to sleep and not being forced unconscious. No matter how many positive thoughts she wanted to think about, she always went back to the fact that she was underneath someone's house; a house that dripped acid from their pipes and had only a small window to thin to call a hole.

She began to dream, darkness and smells weaving around her consciousness like a blanket. She dreamt she was five again, her mother standing before her with pale skin and long tendrils of black hair. Something happened as her mother's hair began to lift upwards. Eyes large and glowing, she felt a pinch of pressure as she turned to face her. Pale arms wrapped around her small hand and she screamed. Crows took flight around her, trees as tall as giraffes reached the sky with dark, magnifying claws. Something tapped against her body and she screamed out, her throat burning hoarsely. Swearing under her breath, she stared at the darkness and damp room she was still in. the dream was a figment of her imagination, triggering a fear from the woods and strangers. From the few classes she took at the University, she knew the difference between fear and loathing. Fear was definitely intruding on her dreams, reminding her she was alone under someone's house. When the tapping came again her body took flight, already torn leggings tearing more as she slid against the wall.

The sliver of light coming from her salvation held a shadow too dark to be considered a cloud, obscuring most of her lighting. Taking off her jacket, she laid it over the dirt and lay on her stomach nails scratching at the mesh wall covering the window. One finger hooked on the end as she forced her face into the ground, the warmth of her jacket searing her itchy cheek. A dark pant leg was evident and she breathed out, startled. "Is someone out there!?" she called. Suddenly afraid it was her captors the moment the question left her lips, she bit down too hard and winced at the awkward taste of her own blood. Hearing nothing, she scrambled as close to the sliver as she could managed. "Hello!?"

"I'm sorry," came a rough response. She blinked, startled at the whispering harshness of their voice. "I tried to find a way in, but there is none. The two…they left a short while ago." The explanation made sense and she chocked on a cry before shaking her head.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, feeling her pulse drop as the adrenaline started to dissipate. When no answer came she stared at the wall, catching the hint of a shadow. They were still there, sitting against the wall or standing, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that they were right outside on the other side of the wall. "My name's Sakura Kinomoto and—and my dad is a professor at a University, he's also an archeologist that only cares about his digs. My brother is Touya and h-he is the most caring, hard-headed fool that I know."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Please help me," she shook her head as she thought of the mysterious girl that shoved her back into the trunk again. "You saw them take me didn't you? That's why you're here? Please help me, I don't have money. My family's not rich at all. I don't understand why they took me, I don't even know them. Please help me, I'm begging you."

"No one would believe me." she blinked, staring at nothing. "I'm…" the silence that fell made her begin to cry. "I'm sorry," she heard the rustle of clothing as they stood up.

"Wait! Don't leave me down here! Please!" her nail tore off as she shoved it against the mesh, letting out a cry of pain when her nail continued to break off. blood welled up at the end of her finger and she stubbornly stuck it in her mouth, getting ready to call out again.

"They're back," was the whisper. Her body screamed as she clamped her mouth shut, listening intently to the thunderous sounds outside. A car door slammed and another opened, followed by a loud voice yelling about money and food. "Syaoran. My name's Syaoran," she heard his feet thump against the ground as the vibration of his flight echoed back to her. _Syaoran, _she shook with an anxiety breathing quickly and gasping as her chest pinched. _Syaoran please come back for me. _

**2:22 P.M**

He sat in a large willow tree, watching the even larger plantation house. The drug had worn off, leaving him shaking and breathless and starving for me. His pocket weighed down with the bag, his fingers itching to reach for it and be done with the withdrawal symptoms. His mind kept telling him he was being foolish, his inner demon reminding him that he needed to survive the fight, survive the battle raging in his mind. He already felt foolish for being in the middle of nowhere, sitting in a tree crawling with red-ants. The plantation house was old, built at least a hundred years ago with enough white paint to cover the sky. There was only one door, black from disease and crawling with more of the red-ants. The windows—shattered and broken—were too high to reach and climb through. The building was placed in the center of a ranch with nothing but rocks and dirt for miles all around. The handful of trees littering the scenery were bare and shriveling up, making the willow tree look ancient compared to the hundred-year-old plantation house. Eyes began to sting from unrest, his blood running thin as he struggled to remain as calm and still as possible.

He recognized the girl from the University in the city, the one and only time he'd actually gone to school to make something of himself. She wasn't attractive and had a face anyone would remember, her dark brown orbs almost black in comparison to her raven hair. Twice the girl had walked out of the house and sat on the broken and large porch to smoke a pack of cigarettes. Every time she stayed for at least an hour, talking on the phone and yelling at whoever was on the inside. The willow tree was too far off for him to hear what she was saying over the phone, her voice actually soft enough that it didn't carry. She wasn't happy; the anger in her tone when she yelled at her broad-shouldered companion was obvious enough. The one time he heard her laughing was earlier when their victim was screaming bloody murder for an hour straight. It had pierced through his chest, listening and not being able to do anything except sit in the willow tree.

When the two kidnappers got in a large pick-up truck painted yellow and green, the tail pipe rattling close to the ground as they rumbled away up the winding path, it had given him a chance to see if he could help her out. Having not slept in days, he felt the pressure of his addiction when he found the source of her screaming. She'd screamed one last time, almost as if something had startled her. _Sakura, _she had said her name was. He didn't know why but listening to her confide in him broke his concentration and he'd almost gotten caught trying to get through the shattered window above. The palm of his hand still stung from the glass piercing his skin, the flow of blood mesmerizing and intoxicating. The hunger in his gut pulsated as he stared down at his hand, blood caking the lines of his palms. Dirt marked under his nails and he pulled out his small blade to clean the earth, managing to pull out the small stash as well. Impulse told him to indulge in his addiction, stomach growling to be fed and mind spinning with desire.

A rumble shot out like a rocket, startling him. Eyes bugging out, he stared through the vines of the willow at the plantation house. The girl was back in the truck, yelling at the top of her lungs for her companion to get out of the house. Threats followed the yelling, following by a gun shot into the sky. A squirrel he hadn't realized occupying the tree took off in the opposite direction, the truck louder now as she pulled away from the house. The door would no doubt be locked again, sealed shut from any unwanted visitors. Getting down from the willow, he waited until he was sure the truck wasn't going to turn around and made a dash for the small slit of a window he had found Sakura in. his lungs burned from over exertion, body shaking with new adrenaline as he dropped down onto the patch of grass. Sniffing, the drip flowing out of him, he listened carefully for the truck and then for the girl down below.

"Are you awake?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her into a scream again. He knew of two people involved in the kidnapping, he wasn't sure if there were more or not inside the house. His mind reeled with scenarios and questions, with thoughts that battled his need for drugs. When she didn't answer he blinked at the ground, staring at his grimy hands and then at the slit in the house. "Sakura…?"

"It's hard to sleep when there's rats, spiders, and acid coming from the pipes." Her voice was scratchy and quiet. "You came back."

"I want to help you."

"Why?" he was taken aback, her tone dripping with hatred and fear. "I don't know you, I don't know them. I'm just a girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I…" he licked parched lips, tasting the drug on his tongue. "I was in the woods when you were running, I thought at first you were jogging until I saw the fear and then—."

"Wait, you saw me?" he nodded and froze. "Why didn't you stop him then?"

"It's complicated…"

"More complicated then the situation right now? Are you bloody kidding me?"

"Do you know who I am?" he suddenly asked, staring at the wall and wishing the superman powers would kick in right then. "My name's Syaoran Li, you know the playboy billionaire?"

"Of course you are." A shadow loomed over him and he swore, hearing Sakura say something and missing it as a piercing jab pinched into his back. "Looks like Brock was right after all about a snoop. Get up mister billionaire. Now." even as he did as she was told he felt the pressure in his lower back increase, Sakura's voice loud as she yelled out for him. Black dots filled his vision until he was unconscious; Sakura's voice the last thing he registered before his drug-stupor finally evaporated completely.

**To be continued…**

Something along the lines of, wtf and omg.

"Am I a Psycho," by Tech N9ne feat. B.O.B inspired my creation for this story. Literally during Halloween. I've finally gotten around to doing the story and hope you enjoy this.


	2. Day one: Part II

—**Ransom—**

**Rated M: **_for good measure_

**Disclaimer: **_CCS belongs to Clamp and all of its affiliations. Story details belong to Immortal-Blood_

…

…

…

CHAPTER TWO: Day One—Part II

…

….

..

One by one street lamps blazed to life, illuminating the dark streets. A soft wind began to sweep through the line of trees, picking up speed as traffic gathered at the base of town. His eyes were on the red lights before him, searching the streets, sidewalks, other cars for any sign of his sister. He felt the pang of worry deep in his gut, eating away at his insides. He hadn't eaten since the morning when he realized she hadn't returned home. Hand in his lap, he speed dialed her phone and left it on speaker as he made a turn into the middle of town. Her phone yelled back that it was off and he growled, turning it off for the millionth time that night. There were numerous ways to charge an iPhone, especially when everyone in the world had the same phone. Car coming to a stop at another light, he strained to see past the haze of backlights. A trio of girls walked on one side of his car, giggling about something as they entered a yogurt shop. None of them was his sister. Up-ahead a girl with short brown hair bobbed to headphones, eyes closed as she waited for the cross-walk to allow pedestrians. It wasn't her either.

A horn blared, jump starting his heart. Staring at the mirror he gave the impatient driver a finger, becoming angrier as they returned the action with another blast from their horn. Driving forward he kept his gaze on the car in front of him, making sure to stay at a distance as he craned his neck to see on the sidewalks. _Sakura where are you?_ He repeated over and over in his head, wishing, hoping. It wasn't like her to not come home, even for a change of clothes. It was definitely like her to allow her phone to die, but she would always drop a line from another phone. He'd called all of her friends in hope she was with them and none of them have seen or heard from Sakura since the morning of Halloween. They hadn't been too concerned about his call. It had him wondering about loyalty between friends. If he was missing his girlfriend would be blowing through the town looking for him. Then again, if he was missing his job would be hounding him for questions about his whereabouts until he reappeared again.

His phone began to buzz loudly, his hand warming up. Heart leaping he stared down at the screen and felt the loss of seeing his girlfriend's name. His car was filled with curses when he realized a moment later that he'd forgotten all about dinner. Pulling over, he answered the phone with one quick swipe and opened his mouth for apologies, eyes still on the sidewalks.

"Have you heard from Sakura?" came out instead of an apology for missing their date. There was silence before he heard a soft sigh brush through the speaker.

"_No. Did something happen?" _he knew that tone of voice; she was accusing him of another argument.

"She hasn't come home yet. I'm just…worried."

"_She's twenty-four years old. I think she'll be fine_." Biting his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret, he slowly let out a breath and tried again.

"Her phones off..."

"_Touya, honey…when I was her age—_," An abrupt silence followed and he couldn't help but wonder if she hung up. "_Maybe she's with a boy right now_."

"A boy…her?" somehow the laugh that left his lips was forced, eyes sharpening as he thought of the prospect. A group of teenagers skated past his car, yelling profanities when a couple blocked their path. "_Has she talked to you about a boy?" _he asked when he finally grasped the statement.

"_Touya, your sister will be fine."_

"You're right," he wasn't convinced. "You're right. She's twenty-four years old, she'll be fine." He blew out, sending his bangs to lift up slightly. "Are you still at the restaurant? I'll be there shortly." Saying good-bye he hung up and stared at his shaking hands. There was something wrong with his sister not coming home, he just couldn't place it. Eating now was his best option to think more clearly and with that, he started the car and pulled back into traffic.

**6:12 p.m.**

A thunderous ache traveled from the base of her skull to her temples on both sides, pulsating with each breath she took and each flicker of life coming within her chest. Closing her eyes she rested her forehead against crossed arms, willing the pain to disappear. The sun had begun to drop, leaving her alone in the darkness underneath an old house. The walls vibrated against her back as a heating system kicked in, the long rusting pipes rattling as they turned on faucets and flushed plumbing. She couldn't handle it anymore, the desire to scream until she passed out growing deep inside of her. Maybe that's what they wanted—to drive her insane. It was working. A sting of pain had found its way to jam against her back bone, the constant crouch position making her cry in agony. The headache that began an hour ago had only made things worse for her. Joints screamed in anguish, joining in on the distress of being stuck. Listening to the vibration of the walls, her eyes opened and twitched as the last of the sun disappeared behind a cloud of dust. It was her last ray of hope.

Something crawled across her back and she stiffened, hoping it was her imagination. Remaining still, she began to count in her head until the ease of the tickling sensation disappeared and the ache of her thunderous pain continued to grow in force. A new pain wrapped around her stomach and she couched, swallowing a lump of dry spit that tasted like earth and mold. Hunger was an understatement in her mind. She'd gone on a hunger strike for a week straight once just to prove a point. This was different though, being forced to not eat and willingly not eating were two separate entities. Closing her eyes again, she began to conjuring up fake images of her brother and his girlfriend, of her father sitting in his office and ignoring the world and of the large dinners they would always manage to have together. It always amazed her when her father came down to eat dinner, talking only about his current research or chatting away with a client. A few times he would ask how his children were, but they weren't important to him. She knew that and her brother knew that, yet they still gave him stories of their day in hopes he would comment on their childish games or incidents with life.

Her stomach growled at the anticipation of not having dinner with her family. Tears dripped down her arm and disappeared into the dirt at her feet. Her shoes were beginning to bother her, becoming too tight as she struggled to find comfort. Her ankles were sore from not moving, joints aching with immobility. She felt the tickle of something at the cuffs of her jeggings. Letting out a grumbling squeak, she moved away from her position and found a colder spot. The damp earth sent chills up and down her spine, new smells weaving around her nostrils until she got used the stench of her own body and grime. Her lips stung as she ran her tongue over the cracks of them, wishing she had something to quench of thirst. It was how she'd gotten through her hunger strike, always drinking liquids until she was bloated and had to pee it all out. Thinking back to high school brought more tears to her eyes. Her friends would want to know where she was, would want to know how her Halloween had gone and tell her about their candy-filled day. It had been their first Halloween separated from one another. Wiping the back of her arm across her face, she blinked and looked up to stare at the darkness surrounding her.

This was what her captors wanted from her. To make her suffer and go insane, to wallow away until she was nothing but skin and bones. Her body would begin to eat itself, little by little, until she was completely gone. What had her father said about starvation? She couldn't remember anymore. She couldn't remember why so many years ago she had gone on a hunger strike, why so many years ago her father sat at the dinner table with them and talked nonsense. Blinking back dirt and grim, she stared at something that twinkled in the darkness. Her fingers went out to reach it, unable to stop herself. The sparkle reminded her of Halloween decorations. The joints of her fingers ached from in-use, finger pulsating its heartbeat to match her headache from the nail she lost in the mesh window. Feeling the pop of her elbow as she stretched out her arm, she sniffed and froze. The sparkle disappeared and reappeared in another location. Ignoring the thunderous roar of her headache she inched closer and watched as the sparkle shifted away from her and got close. All too fast a noise filled the underground cavern she was calling home, a new pain igniting her index finger. It took a moment for her to realize it was her screaming bloody murder as a rat took off into the darkness, leaving her bleeding and alone once again.

**7:41 p.m.**

"What you going to do with him?" someone spoke. Syaoran shifted at the sound of their loud voice, broken accent placing him without proper education. His heart raced when there was no answer back, only silence. "Vicki…?" the accented man said.

"Shut up Brock, I'm thinking." a huff of breath stunk up the air around him as she blew out a string of smoke. Brock made a deranged sound that had her staring at him, eyes blinking in mock anger. "Go get that damn car and park it around back." she ordered, another string of smoke enveloping Syaoran as she blew it at him.

"How…? I'm only a person. I can't drive two cars." Syaoran could picture the anger on the girl as she slammed a foot down, rattling the woods of the floor.

"Get a rope, put the car in neutral, and drag that shit here with the truck." Opening his eyes, Syaoran stared at nothing as Vicki continued. "It's probably your fault this guy followed us here."

"You told me to get her when she was alone."

"Go get the car." Vicki snapped. Syaoran heard the loud booms of footsteps before it fell silent. Blinking, he felt a cloth covering his face, obscuring his vision. A twitch of his arm told him he was bound to something solid. Hearing a floor board creak he remained still, heart pulsing immensely when the string of cigarette smoke bloomed around him. Making a face he shifted and listened wondering where she was. "I know you're awake." her voice came to the left and he turned his head, feeling the whiplash as a pain enveloped the base of his spine. "Is that girl your girlfriend? Is that why you followed us?"

He said nothing, unsure of his own voice. His back hurt from whatever weapon they used to force him unconscious, blood caking his skin and sticking to his shirt. A sudden sharp, small pin-prick stung his arm and he gasped, feeling her hot breath on his neck as she trailed something sharp against his skin. A strong wave of cigarette smoke and heavy blossom perfume sent his nose on fire, the urge to dig into his pocket growing fierce. Another pin-prick on his other arm had him biting down on his lip, not wanting to give her the desire of hearing him cry out. The object in her hand was cold and sharp, trailing along every inch of his exposed skin. He could hear the floorboards creaking as she circled him, never missing a step. A jab in the same place on his first arm had him throwing his head back, narrowly missing her. He felt her presence, her body looming behind him as she finally stopped circling. A cold hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, the smell of her cigarette intoxicating as she leaned forward. He could feel the fire at the end of the stogie, heating up his skin as the cigarette smoke entered his nose.

"What are we going to do with you? The brave hero that tried to save the pitiful princess." Her hot breath left his skin crawling. He could feel her looming behind him, the hand on his neck remaining as she spoke into his other ear, the cigarette burning his flesh as she let the ash fall onto his arm. "She can't be saved. Not until I'm done with her and even then…I think I'll let Brock have her." she moved to his other ear, a finger trailing along his jawbone. "He fancied her from the beginning. He likes girls with green eyes. Something about them speaks to Brock until—fuck!" Syaoran bit down hard the moment her finger was next to his mouth, making sure not to let go till he tasted her blood.

"Don't. Touch. Her." he growled, spitting in the direction he hoped she was. A searing hot pain went right through his bones, his spine in immense pain as she pressed something sharp into his back. A jolt of pain wrapped around his middle until she pulled away. Breathing hard he spat on the ground, letting his head hang forward. "Bitch," he blew out under his breath.

"Hilarious," knuckles met with Syaoran's jaw as she slammed it against him, sending him and the chair to the ground. A new jarring pain hit his shoulder as the chair kept him immobile, splinters digging into his exposed arm. Holding back a cry, he settled with breathing quickly and with short clipped intakes. Underneath the blindfold he could make out legs as Vicki stood before him, fingers dangling in front of them as she lightly touched his pant leg. "It truly is a pity what they say about you, Syaoran Li."

The floor boards quivered with her departure, leaving him alone and on the floor. Closing his eyes, he felt the extent of her actions against him and more. A small spot at the base of his tailbone radiated with pain, climbing up his spine to match the pain in his jaw. He knew she was wearing a ring by the pulsating indent against his skin. From all the beatings and fights he'd gotten into growing up, he knew how deep and how forceful she'd hit him. Her ring skinned a line just above his jawbone and up against his cheekbone, the indentation of her jewelry marking his jaw. It made the twinge all the more excruciating as he let his head rest against the floor, feeling the pin-pricks of old wood molding into him. He couldn't help but laugh at the anger she had. Vicki was a girl he would love to play with in any other circumstance. She was the right type, if only he knew what she looked like. The cigarette smell still lingered, mixing with the odd use of perfume she had poured on herself. Wondering what smell she was trying to hide from the amount Vicki had bathed in, Syaoran sneezed at the memory.

There was no echo, no sound reverberating back to him—only silence. The stillness wrapped around his mind, eating away at memories and anguish. Syaoran couldn't help but listen to the quiet, letting his mind run a mile a minute as he tried placing where they were now. He could only hear his heart pumping against his chest, the blood rushing to his ears at the odd angle he hung. Arms and legs bound as they were, he wouldn't be able to feel his limbs in an hour or so. It had him wondering how long they planned on keeping him on the floor, head dangling uselessly, blindfold keeping the darkness instilled behind his eyes, and silence keeping him thinking—always thinking. Thinking about the girl under the house, trapped with nowhere to go, unable to see and feel. Sakura had no idea why they wanted her and now Syaoran had some clue; the man named Brock. To keep her trapped under the house meant something else, something that Vicki was looking for. His body began to twitch as his shoulder grew numb with the weight of his body, his neck stiffening with the angle of his limbs. Unconsciously he jerked his body backwards, the chair scrapping against the wood flooring a few inches.

The squeak of the chair rang in his ears, making him shiver as he felt the vibration against his forehead. Jerking his body once more until the chair wouldn't budge any further, he lifted his chin up and strained to see as far as he could under the blindfold. Total darkness met his vision, forcing his heart to sink at the prospect. He was alone in the darkness of a room, warm and bound to a chair. He could feel the heat coming from somewhere to the side, humming through the vents as the water heater kicked to life. Straining his chin in the direction of the heat, he felt it full force a moment later as the wound on his face burned to life. It only added to his knowledge that Vicki had scratched him. A smile spread over his face, glad he'd bit her. It dropped a moment later as his mind raced. He _bit_ her. The taste of blood and cigarettes made the leathery taste of his tongue worse. He still got her. Just that action would make his capture ten times shoddier. If he was the one holding victims, he would retaliate with much more than a sock to the face. Syaoran just only wished they would do it now while he still felt the effects of his drug coursing through his veins.

**9:10 P.M.**

She wanted desperately to get out, to feel the fresh air of nightfall, the feel the wind that was whistling through the slit of a window. She knew the first day was barely ending. It felt like it has been eternity since she woke up in the underground trap. Trapped with no light to go by or giving her any illumination to see even the shadows of shadows. The darkness completely shut off all vision. The glowing lights from before never came back and for that she was grateful. She didn't know what she would do if it came back. She could already feel herself slowly lose a battle that never began in her head. The simplest of noises left her skittish, moving to a spot an inch or so away from the sound. The vibration of the walls had her heart leaping from her chest and bouncing back. She felt like a drug addict without the drugs to keep her occupied and restless. Every time she felt her pulse skip a beat, her eyes drew heavy. The adrenaline coursed through her with no where to go. She was going to go crazy.

Resting her back against the wall, soaking in the vibration from the unknown activities going on overhead, her body slouched to accommodate for the low ceiling and her head lulled back. She could feel the sticky cobwebs and a shiver brought hairs to rise on her arms. She wanted to go home and to bed. Even in the darkness she knew when her eyes closed, felt her lashes brush over her grimy skin. Her cheek bone still hurt from sulfuric acid that dripped earlier in the day. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why they even had such a toxic chemical. Not that it mattered. She was their captive and entitled to no explanation other than why they had taken her. She wasn't rich, there would be no money out of kidnapping her nor there any compensation for returning her. Most kidnappings were about money she knew that and for some reason her stomach churned at the prospect that maybe this wasn't about getting money. A part of her mind wished for a former; that she would be too old for games, that the person that had taken her had another objective other than her being a female in the back woods of their city. She hadn't been alone though.

Eyes flying open, she stared at the still darkness. She hadn't been alone in the back woods last night; someone had been hiding and watching her. What had he said his name was? Bangs fell in her face as she shook her head, willing memories to retrace only moments before. He had come to the house, had spoken to her, told her his name. She remembered his voice, hoarse and deep with a rough accent of an education higher than her own. He was a complete stranger trying to help her and failed to do so. A female's voice had entered her mind, different than her own yet vaguely familiar. A stinging sensation continued to pulse at her fingertips as she tried remembering desperately what his name was. He had been so baffled that she didn't recognize it. Why would she recognize someone's name? Shaking, her hand went to her face. She could feel the dried blood, could feel place where her fingernail once been, could feel the dirt mixing and being absorbed by her skin. Slowly she drummed a digit against her cheek and ran it through her hair, feeling the dust and cobwebs sticking to her knotted up hair. Still no name came to mind. Her back felt the pressure of her movements, leg slowly going forward as she slipped into a further slouch.

Memories could be suppressed and locked away by the brain when in a situation so traumatic, the human wouldn't want to remember anything in the future. She had a feeling this was one of those times. All she could think of was the pain she was in, the separate heart beats throughout her body as her blood tried pumping more. Her cells wanted to repair the damage to her finger, to close up the wound she received from the twinkling sparkles of life she knew deep down had been a rat. Her brain processed the creatures in the dark with her, keeping her frightened instead of thinking logically. She was underneath a building where pipes dripped toxic chemicals and water, where the earth soaked up everything and remained damp. There was no sunlight to warm her space, no light to see by, only pure darkness. She could remember her family and friends and everything in between, but not the man that wanted to help her. He had followed them from the moment she was thrown over a shoulder, unconscious and vulnerable, to the moment she got smacked in the face when she tried to escape from the trunk of a car. Someone would think they would remember a savior, even if he managed to get taken as well. He had been so baffled by her confusion and outrage when she yelled at him. Who was he?

As her mind raked with possibilities and questions, something trampled over her outstretched legs. Her jeggings stretched and shifted from the intrusion, body tensing up and flinging sideways and she held in a scream of terror. Two dots flashed in front of her, glowing in the darkness she was becoming afraid of. Bringing both knees to her chest, she held on with enough strength to keep from moving. Listening carefully she tried to pinpoint exactly where the skittering came from, not wanting to be touched again. Her heart beat faster, louder, clouding her judgment and keeping her from hearing anything other than her own scared emotion. The pressure of her closed fist made it easier to not feel the injury in her hand, to not feel where she'd been bitten by the creature in the darkness. Adrenaline rushed through her as the two dots returned, flashing in one second and returning in another spot to the left. Biting down on her tongue, she shifted and watched as the lights got closer. When the disappeared again she screamed, kicking her leg out in an attempt to keep it from getting anywhere near her body. Her throat bled from overuse and dehydration, muscles straining as she kicked continuously at nothing but darkness. The two dots returned as the feeling of soft, wet, tiny little feet touched her arm.

"SYAORAN…!" she screamed, remembering the name as she flung her arm out with a hurtling velocity that cracked her elbow joint, hand hitting the pipe above her head. She could feel two lines forming on her arm as nails dug into her skin at the least minute before disappearing and leaving her with stinging pain. A sickening thump and squeak had her screaming more, calling out for Syaoran in hopes he hadn't been captured. Her imagination was already getting the best of her, maybe he hadn't been taken or maybe he hadn't been real at all. "SYAORAN!" she screamed over and over again when the rat returned, angry and vicious by her outburst.

She knew nothing about rodents. The creature before her had eyes that glowed yellow and white, blinking and staring at her as it approached fast. Her scream didn't make it frightened, her ears bleeding from the inside out by her own cry. A sharp puncture bit into her leg and she screamed even louder, her body convulsing as she kicked. Her hands went out to protect her limbs, tears flowing freely and stinging her cheek as she waved frantically. The rat disappeared a moment later, having given her a warning. She knew it would return. Her body shook violently as she cried, breathing to fast for her heart to keep up. Blood seeped out from her leg, the cold ticklish feeling adding to the other sensations of her burning face and pulsating fingernail. That was twice now she'd been bitten by a rat. Her leg hurt more than her finger and back did combined; the teeth that had sunk into her skin had gone in so deep that she felt it burning. Agony raged within and she snapped, ignoring the pain in her leg as she sat on both knees and began attacking the pipes and ceiling. Her body was forced into a tiny space as she sent her fists against solid objects over her head.

Her shoulder screamed with a new source of agony as she slammed it up, feeling the burn of the pipes as they rattled with hot water. She didn't care anymore, she wanted out. Fingers scratched along the ceiling as tears flowed down her neck. Her missing nail hurt as the nub of her finger forced its way between two pipes and found the wooden planks. They were cold and solid, no splinter coming free no coarse texture. Wondering just exactly what she was underneath she slammed her fist into it once more, bringing her body up forcefully as she slammed her shoulder into it. "SYAORAN!" she screamed at it, feeling the lump in her throat when no answer came back. They had won, she realized as she let her body fall lax against the dirt. They had won in accomplishing her insanity.

"Are you happy now?" she whispered, body shaking as she lay out on the damp earth. Her head found the indentation of her body in the dirt, droplets of liquid beginning to hit her face as she stared up at the darkness now considered her home. Eyes began to close, breath evening out as she tried to think logically. The only thoughts coming back were of him, a stranger she didn't know outside the walls of her trap. Was he a figment of her imagination? Had her captures manage to make her go insane at the very beginning, letting her rot away until she ate away with schizophrenia? Just as her body began to find sleep she heard it, a soft sound that grew louder. Wood creaked above her head as an object slid forcefully against it. Listening intently, she willed her heart beat to slow down as it intruded.

"I can hear you." The muffled response came back to her. She chocked, feeling the lump in her throat grow in depth. Sitting up, she placed her shaking hand against the pipes and between them sliding her good fingers across the solid pieces of ceiling. "Sakura, I can hear you. You're below me."

"You are real." Her voice was soft, throat burning from screaming. "I'm not insane."

"What?" Syaoran said a little louder, voice barely audible. "I didn't get that."

"Why did you try and help me?" she asked a little louder, feeling the pressure of speaking. There was silence ticking away. At first she thought he truly was her imagination, not answering for minutes until his voice came down, muffled and barely audible from the rattling pipes.

"I let you get taken. I should have made my presence known in the woods. I feel slightly responsible for their actions." He told her, lifting her spirits up. "I'm sorry," he could hear the silence echo back to him. Frowning, he strained to see underneath the blindfold into the pitch dark of the room. "Sakura…?"

"Why were you in the woods?" she asked as quietly as she had her other words. The question hung in the air like daggers floating by wires, threatening to jam into his already fast beating heart. He wanted to tell her none of her business, wanted to act the prince he felt he was and shun the words completely. A part of him had a feeling, deep in his gut, that she wasn't the judgmental type. The confusion in her voice when he'd asked if she knew who he was had been there, the anger in her words when she had the gale to yell at him for not helping earlier was as well. She was different. "You don't have to tell me. I'm just…I'm scared. There's something down here with me."

His ticket not to answer arose and relief washed over his conscious. "Is that why you were screaming just now?" he asked, feeling the worry knit between his brows as he listened to her. The floorboard was beginning to bother the side of his face, cold with sweat as he hung uselessly in his chair. Vicki never came back for him, Brock never returned with the car like he was supposed to.

"I don't want to be down here anymore." She got out, her voice rising slightly.

"We're going to get out of here." Syaoran promised, though his tone of voice didn't catch the strength he wanted to go for. Eventually their captors were going to slip up. His eyes burned with the drug wearing off, fingers itching to reach into his pocket and pull out the small package. "We're going to get out. I promise." He told Sakura once more, wanting his mind to stop spiraling down to addiction. He could feel the withdrawal symptoms eating away at his flesh, the sweat perspiring on his forehead and lips as he struggled to move in the chair he was bound to. The hours he'd been in the chair he had no luck. Sleep had taken over and now with Sakura screaming he didn't think he could survive much longer.

"How do you know?" she asked and his heart dropped a little, hearing just how scared she really was. He didn't know what was down there, hiding in the dark underground. He didn't even have a clue as to how they gotten her under there.

"There's a reason they wanted you, Sakura." he couldn't help but continue to use her name. The sound of it sent shivers to run down his spine, clearing his mind from spiraling towards the drug he knew was still in his pocket. Though muffled by the amount of floor and pipes between them, he liked the sound of her voice as well. "Brock and Vicki, that's their names. Do you know them?"

"What's that noise?" she asked instead, confusing him into a frown. Wishing he could see past the blindfold he listened intently. The walls vibrated with the heating system, his own heart beat pumped against his eardrums from the odd angle he couldn't get out of, and scratching was coming from inside the walls—rodents. He couldn't hear what she heard though. "Someone's here." She whispered and surprisingly he heard the whisper through the cracks in the floor. Opening his mouth to tell her to remain calm, he was cut off as she screamed. The blood throttling sound pierced through his bones, making the floors vibrate with her cry. Brock's voice told her to shut up a moment later, his thick broken words being drowned by her cussing.

"Leave her alone!" Syaoran yelled through the floor, turning his face so his lips were against the cracks. "LEAVE HER!" he felt the splinters dig into his skin, dig against the flaps of flesh from dehydration. He could hear her screaming for help directly beneath him. Body tense he lifted up and slammed the chair as far back as he could, hearing the leg crack slightly from the impact. It wasn't enough to get loose. "Hey!" he shouted, slamming the chair once against the wall as best he could. His neck muscles pulled and he swore, gasping for breath as he felt the pain ignite down to his tailbone.

"SYAORAN!" Sakura screamed one last time before he heard an audible thump as someone hit there head, the ringing from the pipes reverberating back to him. Eyes wide, brows hitting the ends of the blindfold, Syaoran stared at the darkness of his own blindness as Vicki's obvious laugh came back to him. They had her. He didn't know whether she was alive or knocked out, why they needed her now of all times. They had left her under the house, for what felt like weeks, and now they wanted her for some twisted reason.

His mind reeled with emotions he never once had before. Body tense, hands balling into fists and grasping the arm of the chair, he went forward as far as the ropes would allow and jerked backwards. A splintering snap echoed the room, shattering his mind as one of his legs came free. Repeating the action and feeling his shoulder come out of its socket as the impact of the ground met with his body, he continued until he heard the second chair leg break. He knew it was the remnants of the drug he'd taken hours ago, knew that it coursed through his blood stream and adding an extra ounce of adrenaline to fire him up. Hearing Sakura's cry and almost feeling the desperation as his own had made him furious. He wanted to wring his hands around Vicki's neck in hope she was as frail and skinny as he pegged her to be. He wanted to bash Brocks face into the first wall they came across, to take the broken shards from the windows and jam them into his worthless heart. Body at the ready, he slammed the chair and his weight as far back into the wall and felt the splintering wood shatter around him. A piece nicked his cheek, adding to the scratch made by Vicki only a few hours before.

The rope holding him back remained tight around his limbs, digging into his flesh. His wrists burned from the rough ties, sending a jolt of shock when he realized the more he struggled, the tighter it got. The chair's legs were now broken, leaving him hanging uselessly to the side, his shoulder dislocated and sending sparks of agony through his nervous system. A number of splinters had found their way into the side of his right hand, going in further and further as he continued to struggle against his bounds. If only Vicki hadn't of socked him, sending him to the ground in the first place, then he would have an easier chance at escaping the rope. His neck pulsed, twitched, moved with the angle he rested against. The adrenaline rush slowly coming to a stop. His blood continued to boil with his rage, his stomach churning at the idea of them hurting Sakura more and more; these strangers that wanted something out of their actions. Body shaking, he finally stopped struggling and remained still, not wanting to hurt himself anymore than he already has. The chair was his entrapment, his home until they moved him; if they moved him. He couldn't see a thing past the dark blindfold, could barely hear over his heart beat boiling his blood stream.

_Why are you doing this?_ His mind began when he couldn't stop shaking, couldn't get the feeling of dread to leave his mind. _She's a complete stranger, worthless to you._ An awful sound left his throat as he cried out, wanting the voice in his head to remain silent, to—for once—go away. He knew it was the drug talking, knew if he wasn't bound to a chair he would help stop his conscious from speaking out against his better judgment. _You should have stayed in the woods, safe away from harm._ His pulse quickened as he shrugged off the feeling of regret and guilt, his shoulder pinching to be put back into place. Tears sprung to his eyes at the agonizing torture, his body convulsing with the itch that he couldn't move, could barely breathe properly as the voice in his head continued to speak out. _Why are hurting to get to her? She's a stranger._ A sound deep within him left his lips and he smashed his head against the wall, meeting the edge of the chairs back in doing so. He didn't want to listen to his own mind anymore. If he fell unconscious then it would go away, it always did. The number of times the voice started talking was uncountable and only happened when he felt guilty, despair, and confused.

Sweat built up, pouring from him like a disease. The drug wanted out of his system completely now, wanted him to either ignite another round or to flush out and be done with it. He'd done too much when chasing over the demon eyes. He'd done too much when hiding in the woods from reporters and his family—from life itself. He wanted it now. His fingers twitched and ached, moving to get out from under the ropes grip to the chair. His body arched as he tried to struggle. All the while, his mind continued to repeat over and over again; _why are you trying to save her?_ The sweat made it difficult to get a proper hold on the arm, his pinky beginning to pulse from the splinters digging into his flesh. His cheekbone hurt the more and more he struggled with his ropes. He knew why he wanted to save her, because he liked the sound of her name. Sakura was a cheery blossom, her voice sultry and soothing even with the agony and fear of being captured. He wanted to help her because she didn't deserve what their captures had in store for her, she didn't deserve to face Brock and his obsession with her green eyes. Sakura deserved to live a life without torture, without fear, and without regrets. Not like him.

Syaoran relaxed as he thought of the girl from under the house, sweat gathering up and making his head itch with dirt and grim as he rested it at an angle that wouldn't hurt his neck. He wanted to help her and to do that he needed to survive past his own nightmares and addiction first. His last image before falling into slumber was green eyes that glowed with cheery blossoms flying in the wind.

**To be continued…**

Theme by Disturbed

Thank you for those of you that took the time to read my new story. I'm pretty stoked about its evolvement. Till next time.


	3. Day Two

—**Ransom—**

**Rated M: **_for good measure_

**Disclaimer: **_CCS belongs to Clamp and all of its affiliations. Story details belong to Immortal-Blood_

…

…

…

CHAPTER THREE: Day Two

…

…

…

He was dreaming. At least, he was positive that his mind was drawing up images of false sequences. A figure sat before him, red and black dragon tattoo crawling up her back and around her shoulder to disappear at the front of her chest. Her russet skin radiated from heat and sweat, glowing with sensual affection as she kept one hand gingerly on her shoulder and stared at him with false eyelashes. Long black hair wrapped around her outstretched elbow, her arm angled to hold up her posture as she remained completely still. He saw everything through a ring trying to focus on her entire body, to capture her soul and keep it forever suspended in time. All around her a smoky haze covered the image as he tried to capture it. Little by little her body began to distort and change shape, the black dragon slipping away like a snake in a river. Scales as bright as the sun began to shimmer and shake as her body twisted to look at him. Blinking, he continued to stare through the ring of a lens. One finger came down, slowly with enough strength to send the whole room to shudder and shake with the earth. A loud snap resounded as black nails scaled across her naked chest, scraping until it turned red. A loud crack entered his world and he stared at the dream with new eyes.

No, he wasn't dreaming. He was reliving a nightmare. Drugs had played into the lurid, drawing away his memory he never wanted to rethink or relive again. He remembered why he had started down the road to distrust and bad decisions. It had been his fault the woman with the dragon tattoo was dead. Her lifeless gaze of unusual azure eyes stared up at him, mouth barely up in a silent scream as she stared at nothing, yet something. Dark trails of red blood pooled around her skull, slipping towards him faster and faster as he had stood there horrorstruck. A river of lust covered by a ring of fire soaking into the wood of the floor he stood upon, hiding in the crevices of a camera. He remembered all too well now. It had been his fault, his decision to go home with her and create a portrait, his decision to sleep with a married woman, to touch her, feel her, and breathe her in. He knew her family was dangerous, knew her way of life was illegal, and yet he still went after her. It had been his fault they were discovered, his fault the moment her husband became his client. Her portrait plastered to his wall, dripping with wet paint and her sultry gaze. His fault she was dead.

He didn't want to make that mistake again.

"Oh good, you're still alive." Vicki's voice became audible as his mind came to, body jerking at her voice too close to his ear. The strong stench of river and moss overpowered the musky scent of his body odor, making him pull back at nothing. "I imagine you're almost sober. Let's fix that shall we?" a pin prick, followed closely by a rushing source of heat filled his veins. Syaoran stared at the darkness of his blindfold, eyelashes brushing over the cloth before letting out a cry as it continued to burn through his blood streams. He didn't have time to notice he was no longer horizontal, but upright.

"What's that for?" Brock's booming voice asked from a distance away, the room smelling strongly of gasoline. He felt Vicki move at the sound of Brock, felt the huff of hair of annoyance on his neck as her strong river scent breezed by him.

"Can't have our money-source breaking anymore chairs before I need him…or bones," he felt the pressure of a warm hand as they pressed into his skin, felt nails dig under the skin as his body went vertigo. His stomach disagreed with the new drug. He personally only indulged in one kind and the heat coursing through him now was the complete opposite of friendly. "Help me put this shoulder back into place." She continued to order, her voice becoming faint and far away.

"What for…?" Brock's voice was even closer now, startling his heart into action and thundering against his chest. His ears rang with a ringing that turned into a screech so powerful his body jerked when new hands pressed against his aching back. Head jerked, eyes moving behind the blind as he absorbed the piercing ring.

"Will you stop asking questions and just do as you're told!" Vicki's voice went through him like a dagger, piercing his eardrums even more as pressure ignited around his shoulder blades. He no longer felt the pressure of her hands, could barely feel his own tongue on his lips as he struggled to make sense of much. "Until I figure out what I'm going to do, I can't have him dying before-hand. Now help me put his damn shoulder back into place."

Through the blindfold's darkness he could make out flashes of a river of blood, brighter than a laser as it coursed through him. The thick goo lifted up with each vocal word, distorting behind his eye lids as heat rushed through his middle and down his spine. He didn't catch what Vicki said, could barely hear over the pounding of his own heart as something changed within his subconscious. The river of blood thickened more until he could make out the shape of a dragon, eyes blacker than black. Needles sprung from the mouth of the goo, widening until they clamped shut onto solid ground. He felt the pressure, felt the pulsating pain of something surreal and imaginable until he retaliated with the blinding hot flashes of a heater hitting his skin ignited inside of him. The pain then was all too real.

**9:47 A.M.**

Eminem and Rhianna's "the Monster," played loudly in the box speakers of a café. The vibration of the walls he leaned against tried over powering the chatter of morning traffic as businessman and college students alike waited patiently for their orders. His sleepless mind ran a mile a minute, keeping up with both the words to the horrendous song that became famous too fast and eavesdropping on college students. Everyone knew everyone when they attended the small University; students knew which professor to avoid and which course to take double-time in fear of being dropped at first lesson. Students knew each other and knew who to avoid. As the line to the cashier began to move, he realized none of the students were talking about his current issue—finding his sister. He found it odd no one mentioned her or any of her friends, leaving him alone with his thoughts as he waited and stared at nothing.

His father ignored his attempts at asking whether she came home, his girlfriend that he was being foolish since she was a grown woman and could take care of herself, and none of her friends were worried. Unable to sleep, he stayed up waiting in the large chair in the den to an empty house filled with silence and buzzing electronics. He stayed up driving around usual places she would frequent and still found no sign of her. Stepping up to the counter he brought exhausted eyes to the board to search the names of famous coffees and espressos, milkshakes and latte's. The cashier looked as tired as he felt, dark circles forming around sunken eyes and acne that covered his jaw line and cheek bones. His monotone voice started to enter his mind as he got closer and closer to the cashier, still unable to decide due to his mind constantly trying to figure out why his sister hadn't come home yet.

"Next please," blood-shot eyes went wide as he took in the next customer, recognition hitting instantly. "Oh, you're Touya right? Sakura's brother…"the kid drawled on, a slight upturn of his lips when Touya nodded numbly.

"Is she here?" Touya asked softly, tiredly as he hid the worry his lips were making. He felt conscious of wearing two-day old clothes, staring at the coffee-stained apron the cashier wore over an iron suit.

"Sorry, she never showed up for the midnight shift last night. Boss has been throwing a fit; she never misses her shifts, even the midnight ones." Touya flinched, listening to the obvious answer. He should have guessed considering _no one _has seen her since Halloween two day ago.

"I see," Touya's frown deepened as he stared at nothing, his mind reeling. Remembering what his girlfriend had said, he gazed at the boy behind the counter, taking in his acne-covered face and tired eyes. "She…that is my sister doesn't have a boyfriend, does she?" he felt foolish for asking, clearly seeing the surprise written in the cashiers face as he took a step back.

"Not that I'm aware of. She only ever talks about blading and school. Her friend Rika comes in here a lot as well and they talk about Rika's boyfriend." Eyes flicked to the customers standing behind him then back again.

"Of course they do," Touya rubbed the bridge between his eyes, blowing out a breath. Feeling the pressure of the waiting customers, he pulled out his wallet and barely glanced at the board hanging above their heads. "Espresso, please…with a double-shot of the strongest caffeine."

**10:28 A.M.**

She came to with a start, eyes opening wide to complete darkness. At first she wasn't sure if she was seeing right, that her eyes were failing her as nothing came into view. There were no shadows or outlines of objects or people—only complete darkness. She couldn't see the end of her nose, could barely see the shadow of her eyelashes when she blinked back horror-struck insanity. Slowly her heart raced, speeding up until blood was flowing through her veins like raging waters. She was still trapped. A brief flashback slammed into her memory and her body jerked, feeling pressure against her wrists and ankles. The top of her head was bruised and tender, a slight ache in her temples indicating a headache of a life time. It grew as her mind reeled trying to remember if she managed to see what her captors looked like or not, trying to remember what had happened and why she was tied to a chair. Instinctually her body continued to jerk, wanting free of the new confinement. The ropes around her wrist dug into her skin creating an itching spot and a burn as her body failed to release her. Even as her heart rate thundered and added to her migraine, she knew she was in more trouble than when she was trapped under the house.

How long had it been now? Her eyes began to close, head falling back to rest at an angle as she adjusted her body to find a comfortable spot. Her ankles were hurting, knees pulsating along with the rest of her joints. One of her hands had another heart beat, the ropes too tight to let blood flow properly. She could feel the injuries she received from the creature and from losing a nail, could feel the dirt and grim stuck to her skin. If they didn't kill her, infection surely would. Tears slipped down her face, mixing with the dirt on her skin and sliding down her jaw line into her clothes. She no longer wore her jacket, having been foolish enough to leave it on the ground to find solitude under the house. Chills ran up and down her arms as she remembered the dripping pipes, the rattling walls, and sizzling water. The shirt she wore wasn't thin enough to keep her warm, the rope burns beginning to ache with the rest of her body. Just sitting there, she slowly began counting down the pulse in her finger. It was hot and bothering; out of sync with her actual heart beat that continued to rush through her body as adrenaline forced its way into her entire figure.

The darkness held horrors to her imagination. Lack of fresh water and food had her mind conjuring figures to tease her and send her body into flight mode; only she couldn't take flight. She felt the pinch in her lower back at the angle she sat, felt the bars in the chair twisting into the right place of her muscles. A shadow of her imagination began to take form before and she trembled, head shaking vigorously for the image to go away. Nights spent with her best friends watching endless horror movies suddenly came to life now. Every sleep over they had at least one movie that would send the hairs on their bodies to rise and try to escape. They never managed to save the popcorn when they watched movies together, the little balls of fluff always ended up flying in the air from someone jumping in fright at a scene. The last movie she watched with them had been "Nightmare on Elm Street," the original and first movie made to scare little girls out of a good night sleep and grown women to realize Johnny Depp was a heartbreaker to the very end. The horror was working now as she stared at the darkness, unsure if it was the back of her lids or not.

Freddy with his long fingers like razor daggers and molten skin watched her in the shadows of her imagination. Jason, with his white mask and chain saw flashing in segments that sent her adrenaline rushing and her throat to close up. She couldn't scream, could barely breathe as she stared into the face of Freddy once again. He disappeared just as fast as her eyes closed and opened, giving a glimpse of what real horror was like. Positive she would faint of a weakened heart, a light blindingly flashed on and her body convulsed. The bright light warmed her skin and face, remaining on and directed to keep her from seeing properly. Willing her heart to slow down, she peeked and squinted trying to see through the white light. When the glow didn't release her vision she blinked and frowned feeling the cut on her lips form from dehydration. "Hello…?" her lips parted a hoarse version of her voice escaping into a whisper as she tried desperately to see past the light. The bright glimpse of her death was everywhere, keeping her from seeing the direction of the bulb. Jerking her body, feeling the pressure of the ropes as they tightened around her wrists, she growled out.

"What do you want with me?" her words gained more tone and when no answer came back to her, she blinked back tears. Keeping her eyes closed, she tilted her head and tried again this time remembering the male that had wanted to help her. "Where's Syaoran?" even as the question left her dry lips, she didn't think she wanted to know. He could be dead, alive, or dismembered. Again there was no answer as the blinding white light continued to train on her. It never wavered as the heat of having a light on her began to send the hairs of her arm up. "If this is some sick joke then I'm done playing. Ha-ha, you've had a laugh, now let me go." silence ticked by as the light became her only sign of another life. "What do you want with me?" her tone hit desperation as she chocked back a cry of plea.

The light shut off then and she jerked, taken by surprise. Still seeing the source she blinked and turned her head, searching the darkness as the light started to fade from her memory. It was as if they needed to make sure she had fight in her still, that she wasn't as broken as she truly felt. Her throat burned from going from underuse to screaming bloody murder to talking as she had. New cuts formed in her lips as she ran a tongue over them, tasting the metallic substance of her own flesh. The light still formed in her minds eye, keeping her from seeing the darkness of doom and horrendous images of molted clowns and chainsaws. Her body began to find a new spot to get comfortable in when a hot prick entered her arm. She jerked to the side, taking the chair with her and almost toppling over. Hot hands gripped her as the pressure in her veins continued to enter her blood stream. Seething at the new pain, different than the others and chilling for her blood, she realized too late a drug had entered her mind. The images she had before began to rush through like a movie on high-speed before her mind completely shut off. Body lax, she fell unconscious before she could register more than her name.

**12:18 P.M.**

Chasing the Dragon had a whole new meaning to him now. Never in his right mind had he literally seen a dragon invade his mind like he saw now. He had a feeling, deep in his gut, that addicts that normally chose the drug as their favorite never seen a dragon as he did now. Eyes as red as lasers trained on him, watching his every movement down the very heartbeat that continued to rattle his chest, wanting out of his ribcage. He began to call it she from the purple and black scales that glittered with movement, flowing with the weaving of limbs he didn't want touching his skin. Sweat beaded his skin like droplets, sliding down his face and neck and disappearing, never to return. His bound hands itched to touch the dragon that hypnotized him, to run a clammy hand over the scales that signified beauty. When he blinked, she blinked. Laser eyes disappearing in flashes as he tried to keep a straight gaze, tried to falter and ignore the slithering sense he was in danger. Never once did she strike him, never once did she move away or get closer, and that spooked him.

He was hot and cold, sweaty and dry. His skull split in two, creating a mass of sweat that continued to slide down his skin and disappear into his clothing. At times he didn't remember what clothes were, what stuck to his back like glue or why he was sweating. Then it all came rushing back as his heart forced its beat to keep pumping blood through his system, to make his veins react to the fiery burn of his own flesh. The dragon continued to bate him, weaving to and fro like cobra awaiting its prey to make a move. His head fell forward, chin resting against his sweat-soaked chest as he tried to ignore the mesmerizing red globes of her eyes. The back of his neck itched and burned, adding to the sensation that his whole body was on fire dunked in a barrel of ice. He couldn't remember his name or why he was trying to remember his name. Each time he looked up she was there, purple-black scales shimmering like twinkling stars and never moving away. Each time he turned his head she continued to shift with his pupils, always there before him. A new sensation rocked through his system and he coughed, feeling slim go down what he believed were clothing. He couldn't remember. His mind ran a mile a minute, unable to process the little things other than _her. _

His hair began to stick to his forehead, uncomfortable to the point where he shook his head vigorously. She shook all the more with him, red eyes leaving a trail of lines that disappeared when he closed his own. His stomach churned at the prospect of how she felt under his hands that never moved. His fingers were sore from an angle that itched to crack. Joints began to build up and form a dull ache that became far more uncomfortable than the hair sticking to his skin. Opening his eyes, he stared at her and watched as she weaved to and fro. Scales turned to black hair that tumbled down to the ground in waves of scarlet. Red orbs shifted, flashing a number of colors as he stared straight into them—mesmerized. The darkness that followed sent his heart tumbling down to his stomach when one solid color came back and he stared into a familiar, sad pair of azure eyes. She was entrancing as her slender body shifted and moved, weaving around a circular motion that made him nauseas. The scarlet of her hair crawled up dark skin, leaving lines of solid color that resembled blood. Throat burning he gawped as nails as long as fingers came out to touch him.

"_I'm sorry," _he whispered, feeling the hoarseness of his throat as it burned. Daggers pierced into his shoulders, gripping him tight and never letting go. He cried out, feeling the pressure of pain that ignited his bones like the blue of a flame. "I'm sorry Ceil!" he cried, the name finally coming to mind as he stared into those azure eyes that shifted and changed.

She was his memory suppressed for years, pushed aside so he couldn't remember her. Tendrils of blood rushed out of her eyes, sliding down and disappearing into darkness. The scarlet color came from her nose and cheeks, shoulders and fingers until she was nothing; gone forever. Chasing the dragon had never felt more surreal than when he took her photograph and painted her. Ceil had been a dangerous beauty that entranced him since the moment her unique shade of blue eyes locked onto his in the lobby of Shanghai's Hotel. How could he forget her? Her fiancé had been his client, had been his families friend since the beginning of time. The dragon on her back had been her insignia that forced others to remain at a distance; not him. He had gotten closer to her as time flew, used her like a drug uses addicts. Ceil had became his drug, his everything, and his final nightmare. _I'm sorry; _he continued to repeat over and over in his head. Her death had been his fault, his folly, and his downfall.

His body felt weighted down, exhausted by the drug that coursed through his bloodstream and mixed with the old one. The counter reaction had never felt more piercing and mind-blowing, his eyes blinking back sweat as he stared at the familiar darkness of his blindfold. His name still slipped away, who he was gaining strength before going away. The image of Ceil rested against him until he fell into the abyss of his mind, falling unconscious once again.

"Let's go Brock," Vicki announced when Syaoran crashed, his head against his chest like a useless lifeline. She'd watched the whole thing, recording him as his mind went close to insanity, yelling out to an imaginary person. Her large companion looked at her tiredly, eyes red and glossy as he nodded and climbed to his feet. "I think we'll use them both to get what we wanted."

"What you going to do 'bout the stolen car?" Brock asked, surprising her slightly. She'd almost forgotten Syaoran had followed them in a car that was placed as stolen. Police radar had announced Syaoran's deceit quickly and without remorse, the owner of the car wanting his vehicle back. Vicki had been surprised when the police announced the thief, mildly awed that Syaoran had given his wallet the man he stole from.

"Keep it hidden for now. We'll burn it with the girl."

"Burn—why now? Aren't we going with the plan Vicki?"

"Yes idiot." She stared at him baffled by his stupidity, his eyes red as saucers as he stared at her with the same amount of intensity as a lost puppy. "We're not going to do anything with the stolen car." she said slowly, making sure his stoned mind understood. "Right now, we're going to drop off the tape as planned. Grab some grub and come back to wait. Okay?'

"Sure Vicki." Huffing out a breath, her head began to shake as he stomped through the threshold and slammed out of the house easily. Walls began to rattle at the thump of the old door and she huffed out a second breath. If Brock wasn't her brother she would have gotten rid of him a long time ago. At least, that's what she continued to tell herself every time the urge to stab him came to mind.

**1:46 P.M.**

"_What are you doing just sitting there?" she jerked at the sound of the voice, her head swiveling around fast. Stars ignited into her gaze as she blinked back nausea before laughing at her folly. "All you ever do Sakura, is stare at him. Why don't you actually go down and talk to him." Her friend asked, white sleeves dangling from her slender arms as she crossed them sensually. _

"_Because I'm a professor's daughter and he's…I don't even know him." she stuck her tongue out and froze. Her best friend stood there, head cocked and light black hair flowing in the breeze that circled them. One brow went up when she didn't continue talking, her head shaking as she pointed a slender finger at the boy down the hill who was taking photographs. She wasn't interested in him anymore, too fascinated by the faceless character standing where her friend should be. They came out of nowhere, flashing into existence as if he or she belonged in the universe. _

"_Rumor has it he's going back to Shanghai tomorrow, might as well live it up and figure out who he is before he leaves." Sakura nodded and turned her head around, still seeing the faceless figure. She didn't know why but she wasn't frightened, only intrigued. Her hand went out, reaching for the figure now standing before her with slender arms that resembled tree limbs and skin like a mole rat. In turn they reached out, curling long fingers around her outstretched hand. Her friend said something else that she didn't catch, mind preoccupied by the cold feeling of the grasp on her outstretched limb. Legs brought her forward and stopped as the faceless figure disappeared, dissolving with the slight breeze picking up around her. _

_Leaves the color of the rain lifted up off the ground, circling into a miniature tornado and sweeping passed her forcefully, picking up speed as time ticked by. Sharp edges began nicking her skin piece by piece until she screamed, no sound leaving her parched lips. Her silent cry for help brought back the faceless creature and she fell silent; mesmerized by the naked nothingness of their creation. Her best friend stood behind it, long black hair lifting up and whipping with the wind as she continued to talk and point out the obvious. Sakura didn't know why she couldn't remember what she was saying or why they had been standing there like fools to begin with. The faceless figure turned around, long fingers like branches as it dug straight into her friend. Sakura screamed, feeling the nicks in her skin open up, allowing tendrils of liquid to flow down her body hot as flames. Her body was on fire as she screamed even louder, the actual sound never leaving her throat. Everything froze the moment she reached out to touch the faceless figure in retaliation, its body turning to dust and sprinkling into the ground like fireflies before lifting up into the sky. She stared up at the little lights, watching as they circled the leaves blowing in the wind. _

"_Why are you just sitting there?" her body jerked at the sound of her friend's voice, eyes widening as she whirled around to stare at nothing behind her. The scene began to replay as she remembered. The male down the hill was frozen in time as she sat at the top, watching him silently like a love-struck high school student. Her friend pointed down at the hill, repeating everything she had said before. Sakura stared at her, reaching out to touch her friend. The moment her burning skin touched her, everything went black. _

Sakura screamed bloody murder at the rushing sensation of flames ignited in her bloodstream. She could see nothing but darkness. Everything was hot to the touch; the ropes binding her wrists and ankles, her hair sticking to her face, her sleeve-less shirt sticking to her back and her ripped jeggings acting as a second layer. Her index finger pushed out a second heartbeat, aching from the missing fingernail she lost days ago—months ago—she couldn't remember anymore. She screamed again when her lips began to crack more from her opened mouth, blood seeping through the crevices and into her mouth. Her throat burned more as she continued to breathe and let out a horrendous sound at the uncomfortable feeling in her body. She didn't know what was going on, could barely stand sitting in the chair that became her new trap. The memory of the faceless creature began to replay the segment in her mind as sweat slipped down her temples, down her neck. She was beginning to feel like spiders were crawling over her skin at the icy-hot flashes she was having, the strong stench of her own odor adding to the mix. Each time the creature got closer to her, the hot flashes began and she would scream until she tasted the blood.

She knew it was a recollection that invaded her mind, a figment of some years ago when she was a student attending her father's University. She had figured if she took his classes, got a degree and made her presence known to him then he would acknowledge that he still had children. It never worked out the way she planned. The student she'd been fond of taking photographs every afternoon down the hill and smoking on school grounds, had left unexpectedly. She never figured out who he was, only admired his work in the University's halls before they were taken down and replaced with student work and her father's discoveries. All she remembered of the photographer was his visible wolf tattoo on his right arm, the sharp teeth visible and grasping onto a red dragon's tail as the lifeless fiend spiraled down his forearm. There had been no name to put to the creator, never once writing his signature onto the photos in the halls. No one talked about him or knew who she spoke about. It was almost as if he was a figment of her imagination, a ghost that never existed at all.

She would never find out either. Not bound to a chair, kidnapped by faceless people, and drugged to keep her from remembering her own name.

**5:42 P.M.**

Touya shook with caffeine and worry, a combination he believed would be the death of him. His eyes were red around the corners, darkened by the lack of sleep he'd been getting since Halloween night. His heart raced at the third espresso from the fourth coffee house his sister worked at, with no luck to her coming in. He always thought she was insane for working at four café's, telling her it was futile to have so many jobs. After speaking with the last manager, he realized she had all four café's spaced out so she only worked once or twice a week for each place and took the midnight shift for nearly all of them. It helped they were all chains, the same company with separate managers. Touya looked up at the little blue house of one of Sakura's best friends, wondering if he was being foolish for trying so hard. His sister was twenty-four, a hard worker, and a college student. Even though he knew she would ditch classes if the moment arises, she would never pass up the chance to see one of her good friends since childhood. Rain had begun to pelt the windshield as he sat in front of the house, staring at nothing and wondering how many times he'd come to this exact house looking for his erratic sister.

Touya still recalled the day his sister played a trick on her family, pretending to runaway to get their father's attention. The city was shut down due to a severe rainstorm and she had chosen that moment to lie about coming straight home and instead went to a this particular house to be with her second family. Touya had been furious with her while their father—. He shook his head at the depressed feeling deep in his gut, not wanting to remember anything else. He was acting as if she was gone for good, coming up with memories long forgotten as he searched the city looking for her. He even went as far as calling in sick for work so he could spend the entire day going from place to place, in hopes she would be there enjoying her game. Getting out of the car he started up the twisting path, ignoring the rain that slammed against his skin like ice cubes. He didn't want to go to the police yet in fear they would think he was being ridiculous. No, he wanted to make sure she wasn't playing a rebellious card. Fist poised, he knocked on the mahogany door and took a step back, letting the rain soak his back as a large dark cloud exploded.

The door opened after a long minute, a surprised older woman blinking at the state of his rain-soaked form. "Touya, what are you doing here?"

"Good evening Ms. Daidouji, I was hoping Sakura was here with your daughter." He shrugged one shoulder, feeling the pull of a backache and stressed muscles. She opened her mouth to replay, wrapping slender arms over her white shawl as the wind picked up and rain found its way to her doorstep.

"She's not." A second voice replied, softly from behind her mother. They both turn to look at her, Touya catching the hint of pure worry etched in her amethyst eyes. "She told me to call her when I returned, but her phones off." It was that comment that had Touya's heart racing faster than the caffeine's overdose, lips turning upside down as he tried not to panic.

"Did something happen?"

"I really not hope. She never…" he paused, searching their faces as he blew in and out calming his emotions. "She never came home Halloween night." He didn't know who made the panicked squeak of horror, but it sent him on overload. Gripping his chest tightly, one hand going to the wall for support he stared at the two women as the caffeine and lack of food finally took hold of him.

"Oh dear, come in quick. Tomoyo go get water and a damp cloth. Touya sit down before you faint, we'll figure this out once you've had proper rest." Touya nodded, barely hearing her as she ushered her daughter and him both. The door slammed behind him with the force of the wind, rain echoing off the walls and down the chimney like a cry for help. He truly hoped it wasn't Sakura's cry for help.

**To be continued…**

Thank you for the awesome support!

I had my doubts about this story, even though it's been invading my mind since I came up with it, but I'm excited that everyone likes it.


	4. Day Two: Part II

—**Ransom—**

**Rated M: **_for good measure_

**Disclaimer: **_CCS belongs to Clamp and all of its affiliations. Story details belong to Immortal-Blood_

…

…

…

CHAPTER FOUR: Day Two—part II

…

…

…

"_Reports of Syaoran Li have escaladed in the past day as officials try and locate the billionaire said to inherit the Li—."_ The television went silent abruptly, a disgusted grunt coming from the male responsible for turning it on mute. It wasn't his property nor household as he stood in the middle of the room, staring at the silent screen as a missing person's post of the brown hair, brown-eyed billionaire came to light.

"They're making too big of a deal for a gentleman that doesn't care about his inheritance." Touya frowned, turning around to saunter back to the large oak dining table occupied by Tomoyo and her mother. "They're saying he stole a car, gave the man his wallet, and high-tailed it out of there." She shook her head at the absurdity it sounded. Brown eyes met Touya's as he sat back down, long legs outstretched before him. He hadn't been paying attention to the news since explaining that he was worried about his sister. The sympathy in her gaze put knots in his stomach as he tried to hold his own. "The Li's funded your father's research recently, hadn't they?"

"A few years ago," Touya ran a hand down his face, feeling the lines of worry fade into exhaustion. He hadn't shaved in days, the stubble along his jaw line prickling his fingers as he tugged on his skin in thought. "My father was more disappointed in the failure of that dig than the Li's losing all that money for the accident."

"Pity there's people in this world willing to throw away so much when there's others struggling to simply get by with one meal." Her hair shook as she gazed towards the large television screen. "Will you be staying for dinner, Touya?"

"Unfortunately I need to go make up for ignoring my girlfriend. She thinks I'm being foolish with this Sakura thing." His chest clenched at the mention of Sakura's name, reminding him that she was still out there somewhere.

"She is a grown woman, much like Tomoyo." A light smile spread over her lips as she looked at her daughter. "I think for now it's best to give it another day. Your sister—bless her heart—has had these moments before; she's probably going through something and needed space."

"Right," Touya stood, brushing his shirt wrinkle free and looking longingly at the closed window, the rain still pouring outside. "I'll give it one more day." He all but whispered, turning to bow his head to them. "Thank you for the meal. Be sure to call if Sakura makes an appearance."

"Sakura's strong. Wherever she may have gone, she's strong." Touya nodded once more, excusing himself and walking out the door. Once the large door was closed and pressed against his back, he felt the first sparks of guilt riding his conscious. He knew he should have been paying more attention to his sister and her love for family-time. He felt guilty for not forcing her to get a ride home after dark or forcing rules upon her adulthood.

It wasn't going to do him any good feeling guilty. Whether his sister was pulling a charade or she was actually in trouble, standing in front of a family-friend's door and placing pressure on himself wasn't doing good for anyone. Pushing off he started for his dark blue Toyota, eyes fixed on the small dent by the front fender. The dent was starting to take shape, resembling an old man wearing a beard and shades. He hadn't bothered getting it fixed properly, not wealthy enough to fix it professionally and not worried enough about the damage to his car in the first place. The dent had been Sakura's doing, stealing his car one night to go see one of her friends across the city. When she returned with it, it had been covered in alabaster, a shattered window, and dented fender. She never explained what happened, only gave him money to pay for the expense of the shattered mirror. To that day, Touya knew she would be a handful. A smile spread over his lips at the memory of her first joy-ride since turning sixteen. Once the door was shut, silence filling him with regret and heart rate pulsing, a cloud burst overhead and thundered against his car. Rain was not his favorite weather.

Pulling out his phone and turning the car on simultaneously—Touya sent a quick text to his girlfriend and pulled away from the curb. Her response was quick with a slight side-ways face giving him the clue that he had a lot of making up to do for the past two days. Taking a few deep breathes, turning the radio on, Touya attempted at clearing his mind and trying for positive thoughts about Sakura and not thinking about her in the past tense as he had been doing. She was out there somewhere; he knew it and knew she was an adult. His baby sister was no longer a baby.

**6:16 P.M.**

A few hours later, Touya was standing in front of a red and black building waiting patiently for his girlfriend. Wearing a black tux, he glanced longingly at the double doors of the restaurant in hopes he would be inside and not outside standing underneath their black awning inches from getting soaked by the falling rain. It hadn't stopped since it started, the rain falling with his mood and soaking up the land with black rivers. Steam rolled out from a nearby water-heater, rain splattering the protective box and sprinkling passing pedestrians. A couple walked by and inside, giving him a glance as he avoided getting splattered by a gush of water dripping down. A car drove by and stopped, his eyes perking up at the familiar silver truck. When they continued to drive away, his stomach churned and heart sank. He had a nagging feeling his girlfriend was either going to be fashionably late to teach him a lesson or not show up at all. He deserved it, having missed their anniversary on Halloween to work an extra shift and then missed their date because he was worried about Sakura. It was only fair that she would give him a dose of his actions. Running a hand through his hair, he felt the rain at the roots of his black locks and brushing long fingers through to the very end.

A taxi stopped at the curb, yellow lights flashing as the driver came around and opened the door. In moment an umbrella was splashing away rain drops and a long slender leg stepped out of the taxi. Touya tilted his head at the white dress, heart racing as familiar brown orbs smiled longingly at him. Nakuru gave the taxi a solid bill and excused herself, her auburn hair pinned at the top of her head with a strand cascading down the side of her slender face. For two days Touya had been avoiding his girlfriend due to life having him by the balls. For two days he had only electronic contact with the love of his life since high school. Dark eyes on her now, he took in her slender form as she held the umbrella high. A white and black dress hugged her body, showing off her curves and still allowing her skin to breathe. Nakuru never wore makeup, her sensitive skin unable to take the extra powder and creams. She didn't need it though as she smiled at him, the obvious glee that he was actually taking her out evident in that smile.

Another couple walked by, gently walking across the large rain puddle just outside the restaurants doors. Touya moved aside and stepped underneath the umbrella with Nakuru, placing a gentle and guilty kiss on her lips. Stomach growling, she tugged him towards the door to follow after the two. The warmth of the restaurant blasted and warmed his skin automatically, the strong aroma of sauces and garlic weaving around him in waves as food was being distributed to guests. Touya took in the couple in front of them, giving the hostess the number of people ready to be seated. He couldn't help but feel a pang of familiarity at the sound of the woman's voice. Her white-blond hair was pinned at the top by black barrettes, long wavy hair falling down her exposed back and resting against the small of her back. Her companion was large, shoulders and torso the size of a professional boxer. His brown hair was shaved close to his skull, strong square face aimed at the picture of two dancers hanging above the hostess desk. As a waiter came up carrying menus, the woman turned around then with a smile plastered to her black-painted lips. Blue contacts enhanced her dark hues, giving him an eerie and exotic look. Nakuru's hand snaked up Touya's arm as they walked away, bringing his attention back to Earth. She wasn't familiar at all, only exotic looking.

"Reservations for Kinomoto, Touya." He stated when the young hostess smiled a welcome.

"One moment,"

"You thought ahead." Nakuru said with mild surprise. Touya glanced at her, glad she was his height so he didn't have to look downwards. Placing a kiss on her forehead he apologized against her skin for being a lame boyfriend. "Don't apologize for being a brother."

"Mister Kinomoto, your table is ready." The hostess came back a moment later, holding two large black menus. As they followed the young lady towards their table, Touya couldn't help but feel the pressure of having a nice dinner while his sister was missing.

Why eat when she could be trapped in a ditch, lost, or dying? Why have a nice outing with the second person he loved dearly when she probably got hit by a car? The young hostess walking them to their table had short-cropped auburn hair much like Sakura's. The strands hugged her jaw line with a slight indentation of split ends. She made up for her small stature by wearing heels appropriate for the dark, mysterious theme of the restaurant. She looked similar to Sakura down to her fashionable look with the only difference being the eyes. Instead of his sister's rich green orbs, the unknown woman had dark brown hues that darkened with lack of lighting. Nakuru sensed the change in mood as they sat down, the dark mahogany table cloth moving with her slender legs as they got comfortable. He shirked back into himself as his girlfriend glared daggers, daring him to make one mistake. Explaining that the waiter would be with them shortly, the young woman left Touya and Nakuru alone surrounded by strangers.

"I won't say a word, I promise." Touya stated before he could stop his lips from moving. Nakuru tilted her head to the side, eyes boring into his as she let a slender arm rest on the table. Her silver bracelet moved with her, glistening by the small lantern placed in the center between them. Clearing his throat, Touya opened the menu with ease and averted his gaze. "How was work?"

"This is not a first date, Touya." Even with the softness of her tone, Touya felt the slam of agitation hit him as her words were spoke. "Water for now," glancing up he caught the eye of the young man that came to their table, nodding his head slightly in agreeance with her order.

"I—,"

"Work was fine. The Ruby Gym was packed all afternoon and we had one birthday party." She smiled, the corners of her pale lips creasing as she caught his look. "I understand you are worried, but please understand that she is an adult Touya. I'm worried about her too, especially since she usually helps out with birthday parties at the gym."

"I hear a 'but' in that statement." He commented dryly and placed the menu down. A couple turned their heads, being nosy. Ignoring them, he reached for Nakuru's hand and squeezed it tight.

"There's no 'but' when you're worried about a loved one." Nakuru pulled her hand free and smiled, glancing up at the waiter as he brought them water. "We're not ready yet." Touya straightened, feeling his phone begin to vibrate against his pant legs. "Why haven't you gone to the police if you're this worried?"

Touya thought a moment, ignoring his phone as it continued to pester him. "If my own girlfriend thinks I'm being an overprotective lunatic, then I'm pretty sure the police would think so too."

"Clever," her laugh hit a slight note as she covered her mouth with her hand, ignoring his glare as she opened up the menu and began scanning the items. It was when his phone hit a fourth reminding buzz, did he pull it out. It wasn't etiquette to use a cell phone at the dinner table, an action that he and Nakuru both agreed could wait until they left or finished their meal.

Through the haze of the smudged screen as he swiped a finger across the lock button, he stared down at the video-message waiting to be opened. A frown creased his face at the unrecognizable number and glanced up to see Nakuru watching him. Apologizing with a wince and a look, he opened the message and stared at the darkness overriding his phone. For the first few seconds it was as if the message was spam, then it began to lighten up as a figure moved in the center of the screen. Turning his phone sideways his frown increased with the confusion, waiting for the message to go through. The link said there was over a minute of it, but so far there was nothing but darkness and a faint line that someone was in it. Thumb posed to press delete, Touya lost all color in his face when Sakura's bright face appeared in the middle of the screen. She couldn't see, her body shrinking back as best it could as a blazing light shined on her. Touya stood abruptly, knees crashing against the table and knocking objects over. A few people glanced up at him, including his girlfriend as his eyes widened with each passing second of the video message. He could barely hear what was being said on the phone, the vibration of sound obvious as his hands shook and nearly crushed the cell into pieces.

"Touya…?" Nakuru blinked, her thin brows furrowing as she watched him watch the video. "What is it?"

He couldn't say anything as he watched Sakura lift her head up slightly, squinting against a bright light that revealed more than he could stomach. A thin line of dirt marked her brow and cheek bone, an obvious red smudge just below her right eye. Her body was hunched forward as she moved her head one way than the other, saying something and staring at nothing. He could make out the trembling of her body as her mouth opened and closed, words escaping her lips. When the video went off he blinked, realizing tears slipped down his face. A hand touched his arm and he jerked, dropping the phone to the ground. Nakuru's concern broke him to pieces, his chest tight as his heart dropped down to his stomach. Picking up his phone he wrapped strong, shaking fingers around his girlfriend's wrist and dragged her towards the bathroom's small corridor. Eyes bore into his back, heads swiveled around as people snooped and tried to see what was going on. A waiter balked as they ignored his attempts at courtesy. Touya replayed the video and handed it to his girlfriend, arms unable to stop moving as he lifted them, crossed them, placed them against the wall. His fists flexed as he watched Nakuru's face turn white as a ghost, watching the video to the end.

"_What do you want with me?" _just those words made him cringe as he listened to the desperation in Sakura voice. Unable to take it, he took the phone and turned the video off just as she started talking again.

"I'm so sorry, Touya." Nakuru whispered eyes glossy as she brought her shaking hands to his face, making him look at her. "I should have listened to you, but I didn't. We _need_ to go to the police with this."

"It's a kidnapping, meaning they want something right?" Touya barely understood his words as he spoke, unable to look his girlfriend in the eye. "I can't…I don't know…why would someone take her?"

"It's a sick joke. We need to go to the police." She whispered, repeating her words to make sure he got it. "Touya—," he could say nothing as he nodded, his chest tightening as his lungs retracted air. She tried to smile and failed, giving him a soft kiss and tight hug. "Go to the car, I'll take care of the check and then we'll go straight to the department. Yukito should be working tonight, love. He'll know what to do." _That's right, _Touya thought with desperation as he listened to her, his long legs taking him quickly out the door; _I should have gone to Yukito the first time. _

As Touya passed by the table, Vicki laughed loudly getting the attention of people around them. Her laugh echoed the restaurant as Brock strangely admired the scene that just played out. Apologizing with a wave of her hand, face flushed, she took a sip of her wine and gave her brother a long solid look. It was starting to fall into place.

**9:47 P.M.**

The police station was buzzing with traffic, cops and civilians going in and out of the lobby constantly. Secretaries were trying to push the civilians away, taking only the recently detained suspects of minor tickets. After handing over his phone to the police, Touya couldn't do anything other than wait. He watched as the crazy night-people were dragged from cuffs to be placed on an uncomfortable silver chair, and then dragged again to another room. He gave his best friend his phone after giving a small detailed explanation that he'd been worried and since then nothing. Nakuru had left to get coffee, only to return with a grim expression and a solemn look that told him she was trying hard not to be the bearer of bad news. He didn't even want to know how Sakura's best friend would react when she found out.

The video message still played over and over in his mind. The grim expression of his sister's dirty face, the stained marks on her usually bright complexion, haunted Touya as he began to pace in the lobby. She'd been scared, horrified, and traumatized. He remembered once she'd gotten lost at the age of twelve, though it had only been a few hours, but she didn't sleep without the lights until she was over the initial shock at fifteen. It was the first and last time he'd seen even his father horrified that something had happened to his only daughter. Touya will always remember the dirt-stained tears marking her ghostly face and the way her hair stood up on end with sticky cob-webs. It was as if she'd been trapped in a dungeon for eons, never seeing the light of day. It was much similar to the way she was looking in the video message; only twelve years later. The only difference between now and then was someone did place her in a dungeon, leaving her alone in a world of darkness only to blind her for a game of charades that no one was laughing about.

Time continued to pass by as the police station calmed, the only traffic going in and out being drunks and addicts. Nakuru was sitting with her legs crossed underneath her weight, his suit jacket covering her legs as she read her phone. Touya glanced up at the clock then at the long stretch of corridors leading to a number of offices. Almost like a mirage, his friend came into view. His long legs carrying him in strides as he entered the main lobby with another officer at his side. Both wore protocol uniforms, his companion in a darker shade of blue with a badge that read chief of police. Gray eyes met with Touya's as Yukito kept his expressions neutral. "Touya, this is Captain Leblanc. He's going to ask you simple questions about Sakura to try and help find her."

"You know her just as much as I." Touya snapped and immediately regretted it when Nakuru placed a hand on his arm. He hadn't even heard her get up.

"It has to be family member's words that we document." Yukito explained solemnly, ignoring his friend's blatant stare.

"Fine, ask away Captain." Touya stared at nothing, trying to push away the video to the back of his mind. He didn't think it would happen. He was forever haunted by her cry for help. Nakuru's hands rubbed at his arm, trying to comfort him.

"These are basic questions, background interrogations to get the feel of things. We just need to know if there's any person out there that would want to harm your family, singularly, as a whole…"

"No," Touya cut him off and Nakuru pinched the inside of his arm, reminding him silently to be polite. There was something about the captain that Touya didn't like, he just couldn't place it as the man continued to speak.

"Has your sister ever been in a domestic relationship with another?"

"She's never had a boyfriend…" Yukito's gaze softened as Nakuru aimed to pinch. "To my knowledge." He added with a slight punch to his politeness. Captain Leblanc made a face as he took notes, scribbling down something.

"What about friendships, colleagues…Tsukishiro said she holds a number of jobs at Deluxe Café House?"

"Everyone loves my sister, Captain Leblanc. She's head-strong and has a free spirit. The only person that…" Touya shook his head, lips running a thin line as he glanced from his best friend to the Captain of the police force. He knew now why he didn't like the officer; the man had an air of authority that most get. "My father may be the only person that holds a different emotion for her."

"You're not sure which route she took on her walk home?" Captain Leblanc asked next, scribbling something else down. Touya got angry, giving Yukito a look even as he answered curtly.

"No," there was a long pause as he scratched down notes, the clock behind Touya ticking by the second, and Nakuru's shoulder popping as she adjusted her posture. Everything gave him an itch that sent him on overload as he struggled to remain calm and collected.

"One last question, Mister Kinomoto." He met Touya's gaze and held it. "Do you or your sister have any connection to Syaoran Li?"

"What? You're worried about that—,"

"Touya," Nakuru warned, hand tight around his wrist.

Touya growled inward before breathing out, adjusting his posture as he looked the captain directly in the eye. "No we don't. The Li's funded my father's hobby once four years ago, it failed, they paid off some lawsuit regarding an accident with a student that died at the dig and moved on. It's in the reports. We have no other connection nor do we socially speak with the Li's." Touya's eyes sharpened. "Someone sent me this idea of a joke to my phone, probably looking to get money or a rouse out of my family and you're worried about some brat that went missing. I'd say—."

"Understand, Mister Kinomoto that Syaoran Li is also a missing person as of twenty-four hours ago. They could be linked together or not, I'm only asking questions to get the feel for what kind of people may have taken your sister." flipping his notebook closed he glanced at his colleague and back to Touya. "We'll process the video message and do what we can. Place an APB out, put out Sakura's photo to other officers at a twenty-five mile radius until we know more. In the mean time, get some sleep. Kidnappers always watch from a distance and it's obvious you're ready to crack at the first innocent bystander."

"If they want something, they'll contact you again." Yukito said, gaze sharp as he took in his friends worry. "I'm sorry,"

"Yeah," _me too…_

**10:48 P.M.**

The darkness was beginning to become familiar to her. The nothingness of her surroundings brought in a bit of escape as she blinked and stared. At times it felt like she was living a nightmare, her body sleeping as her mind stayed awake. She knew from the way her body ached from its upright position and bent limbs that it was more than a live nightmare. Her bound wrists burned slightly from the ropes keeping her down, rubbing her skin raw until she felt the first prickles of blood seeping out. It wasn't enough to cause alarm nor was it enough to cause anemia. She didn't remember when she'd fallen asleep or how she'd fallen asleep. The chair she was trapped on was uncomfortable and prickly, wood chipping and digging into her exposed skin. A slight sting on the inside of her arm told her something had happened, just not what. Shifting against the chair she felt it move a fraction and stop, wood chips digging further into her skin. Her jacket was gone, leaving her cold and numb to the breeze wrapping around her.

For a brief moment she forgot that she'd been kidnapped, her mind running blank and leaving her emotionless before it all came crashing into her. Panicking, she shifted and tugged against the chair trying to lift her legs and failing as she let out a scream that was muffled by something in her mouth. Her tongue was so dry she hadn't realized something was there, her voice already sore from screaming bloody murder—when? She couldn't remember how long she'd been a captive to her faceless kidnappers. Heart racing, she searched the darkness for anything other than more darkness. Bells in her mind continued to ring as she panicked until her blood was warming her skin. The fever of rushed adrenaline made her sick to her stomach, the empty contents churning and forcing her to take a deep breath and relax. A part of her didn't want to fight, while the other part wanted free and free _now._ Struggling to take a breath with the object in her mouth, drying her already parched tongue to a tingling numbness, she closed her eyes and breathed outwards.

The darkness all around reminded her of the time she got lost, the darkness bringing her fear and an experience she would always remember. It was one of the only times she'd been to one of her father's exhibitions in a foreign land. She had been so absorbed in the designs and etchings of ancient beings, that she hadn't seen Touya or her father continue on through the cave. They hadn't realized she wasn't following after them either, not until it was too late. The fear that had risen inside of her was similar to what she felt now, her blood boiling to the point of a heart attack. Her pulse had quickened and slowed, quickened and slowed until the lantern in her hand burnt out leaving her in complete darkness. She still recalled the echoing sounds of bats screeching for food, coming back to her full force. She screamed until her throat was bleeding and raw. How long she was lost in darkness she never found out. No one in her family talked about that time nor asked if she wanted to go back for another exhibition.

Letting her head fall back, bangs stuck to her hot skin as she stared up at the ceiling. The darkness brought shadows and lines of shadows, revealing a cluttered ceiling to an old building. The second heartbeat in her hand was becoming numb now, the heat circulating around her injured finger becoming nothing but a feeling. Letting her eyes closed, she conjured up a smiling face—a familiar face to ease the fear away. As sleep found its way around her consciousness the familiar face turned to dripping blood.

**To be continued…**

So finals are coming. I didn't think about how close to the end of the semester I was when I created this story and well…the others. Anyway, on my profile page I try my hardest to update the world regarding the stories and if I hit a snag in the updating.

Thank you for the support. Till next time,

"Famine and Disease" by Finch played a huge part in creating this chapter, as well as.


	5. Day Three

—**Ransom—**

**Rated M: **_for good measure_

**Disclaimer: **_CCS belongs to Clamp and all of its affiliations. Story details belong to Immortal-Blood_

…

…

…

CHAPTER FIVE: Day Three

..

…

…

The blood flow was rushing through his legs, sitting around the lower-half of his body. A searing pain made him think twice before moving. His shoulder ached, his stomach churned for food and salvation, his mouth tasted like a hot leather cap, and he wasn't so sure he was even on the same plane as before. It was almost like his whole body was floating in space with every ache and sore spot weighing him down. One deep breath had him gagging and choking before he realized there was nothing in his mouth but his tongue. The hot leather cap feeling grew heavy, the taste becoming familiar as the seconds droned on. He wasn't sure what was real anymore as he opened his eyes to view black. A faint light floated above him, covered by the blindfold that continued to remain on his face. He managed to figure out that he was lying down, still strapped to the chair, splinters digging into his skin at every angle. His shoulder was the main source of his pain now, vaguely remembering that they had put it back into its socket. The drugs lingered in his system, keeping his mind reeling and away from reality no matter how hard he tried to concentrate.

A part of the chair he lay on dug into his back, becoming a pinprick kind of pain. More vague memories flashed across his eyes when he struggled to shift in a different position. They had used something against his back, rendering him unconscious so they could play their horrendous game of hostage. Quickly it left his mind, leaving him alone as he tried to figure out why he was lying down in the first place. Did he fall? He couldn't remember. Reality was becoming a thing of the past, a foggy landscape that disappeared as soon as he remembered what happened. The back of his skull ached from the position it hung. The back of the chair dug into the base of his head and traveled downwards. There was no blood flow in his legs as he hung back, legs propped up and tied to the legs of the furniture. The crook of his arm was beginning to sear, the spot where they had stabbed him with a needle itching with a burn of raw skin. That's really all it was; pain and desperation clouding his mind from the drugs interaction, overlapping one another merely because they wanted something out of him. What exactly they wanted he was sure to find out later.

As he lay there unmoving, he let his eyes close. It made no difference to him. He couldn't see anyway, couldn't see what room he was trapped in, couldn't see the kidnappers as they toyed with him and their other hostage. He was no longer the superman he thought he was when he chased after the olds mobile. How long had it been since he literally ran to follow the large brute that threw a helpless girl over his shoulders? How long had been since he dove for cover when the vehicle sat in the alley and didn't move until the sun was up? Sleep began to overcome him when his body suddenly moved. He floated up and slammed upright. The impact rattled his bones even as the blood flow began tingling throughout his skin. He began to gag at the sudden gravity, at the empty feeling in his stomach from the whirling vertigo. Someone made a 'tsk' sound as he gagged until spit gathered at the corners of his dry mouth. Turning his head slightly, he sniffed the air and coughed as the strong odor of medical weed and cold cigarettes came back to his senses. A tug-tug-tug feeling began vibrating through his lower back as the chair moved backwards. Feet dragged along the floor before his chair collapsed backwards, bruising his skull the moment his head touched the ground.

"Damn it," Vicki swore as she coughed and tried again, forcing the chair up right and tugging him backwards again. The scrap of the chair legs sent a violent shiver up his spine, wrapping around his ear drums as he shook in place. "That moron," she mumbled to herself as she tugged hard and dropped his weight once more.

"What…the fuck…?" he warbled. His mouth was too numb to speak, parched from lack of liquids. Nausea overcame his senses and he gagged some more, the tugging feeling losing effect as gravity took over. He truly felt as if he no longer was on earth.

"Be a dear and shut up." Vicki snapped too close to his ear as she did another round of tug and drop. The darkness brought stars at the fourth impact, his weight too heavy for the woman. "BROCK!" she suddenly shrilled. The chill that ran down his spine this time settled around his bones, rattling them more as Vicki tried dragging the chair on the floor.

"Why are you…moving me?" he found himself asking as she shrilled for her companion a second time. No answer came back, only the tapping of her feet as she struggled to drag the chair. Silence fell, ticking by as she stopped tugging and stopped moving him. Moving his head, he felt the first prick of wood dig into his cheek and gasped. She was destroying the chair he sat on.

"You're one chatty hostage." Her voice snuck up on him, surprising him into a violent jerk as he fell once again with the chair. This time gravity took over, pressing him into the ground as she dragged the chair another inch or so. "If you must know…" she got out slowly as the chair continued to move a slow pace. "…guests are coming and I can't have them laying eyes….on you."

"…me?" even as he got the word out, he couldn't figure it out. The single word was foreign to his mind as she dragged him across the wooden floor. The chair hit something, stopping them in its tracks. He felt the pressure of wood slice into his shoulder blade then as it went upright, all four legs on the ground stably. His bones rattled at the impact of sitting straight, the blood flow moving throughout his veins and trying to settle.

"Well look it here. No wonder the opium had an alternate affect." Vicki suddenly said and he turned his head, searching the darkness for the smell of her. "How long have you been on the ice my dear billionaire?" he said nothing as the harsh burnt plastic smell of drugs wafted under his nose, assaulting him as she lit something right there. Cigarette smoke assaulted his nostrils as she blew out a stream of smoke.

He wasn't sure how long she sat there, blowing smoke into his face. The silence had become deafening. It hurt his lungs to inhale the second hand smoke, to breathe in the cold sensation of a menthol cigarette. He struggled not to cough, not to move. Something had transpired between her finding his little sack of drugs and struggling to drag him out of the room. The pause gave his blood time to circulate properly, to settle in all the right places and to allow his abused skull to dull out. Slowly he managed to tally up his aching body. His shoulder harbored the worse pain and he couldn't even remember why. Nausea overcame most of the dehydration he was feeling, the smoke adding to that as he let out a cough that burned his throat. Still she continued to sit there before him or stand. He didn't know what she was doing. Her stench was close enough to recognize, the presence of another human body lingering just over him. He moved one finger, wishing he had better circulation in his arms. He was too far gone mentally to do anything else but sit, stare, and move a finger.

"What doing, Vicki?" came the slur of her companion. He shifted his head, trying to take in the man's smell since he couldn't see him. Unlike Vicki—reeking of cold cigarettes and weed—he had the stench of a musky sweat and damp mud mixed with beer. Engraving the different smells, he waited to hear what she would say. Instead another ring of smoke assaulted his nostrils before the chair began to move backwards.

"Did you put her away?" Vicki said calmly as the chair was lifted up easily and dragged through a doorway roughly. It barely fit through the opening as his fingers were squeezed against the perimeters and a burn of sensation scrapped across his arms.

"She was a sleeping, never woke up." was the grunt. The chair wobbled and moved above ground. Twice now he pictured gravity gone, pictured him self floating in space with lack of oxygen to live by as the strong stench of cold cigarettes once again blew into his face. She had been following after them, only to stop. Her footsteps no longer tapped the wooden ground.

"Did you make sure she was alive?" silence as Brock paused, never saying anything as he carried the chair down a corridor. The temperature dropped, chilling him to the bone as he felt the breeze of an air conditioner. "Please tell me she was still alive Brock." Vicki demanded as calmly as possible.

"She was…." he spoke with a slurred drawl that indicated intoxication.

"Take this cat to the other room; make sure the door is locked." The detest and hatred floating in her tone of voice gave off some clue of how irritated she was. She didn't raise her voice nor did she say anything else after that. He heard the clack of her shoes against the wood as she left though and barely felt the gravity of his chair as he was taken away in the opposite direction. Something happened in that moment of her scorn and finding his sack. What exactly? He didn't think he wanted to know. He was only glad for a change in space.

**9:48 A.M.**

He leaned against the wall, staring down the slope of the large classroom. Class was still in session, with every student filling in the uncomfortable brown chairs with their small writing stations attached to it by cold metal and bolts. The professor was talking, never once taking a breath of air as he lectured. Under normal circumstances students would be falling asleep, barely paying attention with a professor talked nonstop for the duration of class time. Under normal circumstances the class wouldn't be full to the point where students were standing against the wall. He watched them now, three students leaning awkwardly on their toes as they scribbled notes. The projector was too far away to see, giving them only their ears and mind to be able to take down the proper lecture material. One student was using their phone, snapping photos of the chalk board as the professor wrote down other notes for them. No one even noticed that there was ten minutes left of class, their attention and heads remained on the man speaking.

He had to hand it to the man though. What he lacked as a parent, he made up for at the university. Professor Fujitaka Kinomoto was a well-respected teacher at the University. His classes were always full, students rarely dropped it, and some snuck in to cheat their way into the classroom the next semester. His material every term was brand new, which made things a lot more interesting to the students. If they failed and retook the class, they would learn something else entirely and face the consequences of trying to pass the second time. Never once had he seen a student retake his father's class though. It was hard enough to get in the first time, let alone a second time. As a former student, he never understood why the students loved his father so much. The class was three hours long; learning ancient hieroglyphics and archeological skills for the field. If his father remembered, he allowed a break in-between the hours—rarely did he remember that the human body couldn't stay seated for three straight hours—and never gave them that break. If a student missed even a minute of lecture, they were that much closer to missing vital information for the mid-terms and Finals. Questions were to be answered when directed and never repeated. All other responsibilities went to his assistant, whom was currently missing.

Touya stared at the space where his sister would be sitting, the chair intimidating. No one was sitting there. It would be cold and bare until they found his sister and only then if she was willing to come back. Again, he couldn't fathom why she even bothered to be their father's assistant. As a professor he was respected and loved, as a father he was not. The man only thought of himself and his job, rarely gave his children the time of day. He tried though. Touya knew just how much his father tried to give them the time a day, it never turned out good. He could still recall the argument Sakura and their father had a few weeks ago. The end result to it was a broken faucet, shattered dishes, and a missing dog. Fujitaka either thought his daughter was still a teenager, needing the love and affection to properly function daily, or he was aiming for something else entirely when he bought her a puppy. Touya never found out the meaning behind the dog nor did they find him afterwards. As much as his sister tried, it was futile to have a relationship with their father. Fujitaka Kinomoto was a lost cause the moment he lost the love of his life; their mother.

Class ended abruptly with no warning ten minutes later. Touya was taken by surprise as he blinked, watching as students stood and gathered their belongings. The chatter had rose to a certain point of echoing throughout the entire room. The three students that were standing in the back gave him one look, trying to figure out if he was a student as well or just an observer. Not giving them a chance to speak with him, he pushed off the wall and descended down to the lower lever. Not once did his father look up as he gathered notes together, replacing them in the correct order for the next class. That was Sakura's job and he hadn't noticed she wasn't there. Students piled papers onto her little desk, one by one getting higher and higher as everyone hoped for the best. Touya paused, arms crossed as he waited for the room to empty. His eyes were on the papers as the students filed behind one another, placing their work down and exiting out the side. Just by watching he could pin-point which student's papers would be ripped up and which ones would have a cursory glance at. Another quirk of Professor Kinomoto, he only took typed up papers never written.

Waiting until the entire room was empty he stepped up on the small deck and cracked a weak smile. "That was an intense lesson."

"Hmm…oh Touya, I wasn't expecting you." Fujitaka gathered his work and placed them neatly onto his large desk before moving to the stacked papers. Touya waited, hoping he noticed that his daughter wasn't there after all. Fujitaka paused as he glanced at the chair before fingers gathered up the bulk of the mess. Touya sighed.

"Dad I need to tell you something and you need to listen."

"Shoot," Fujitaka tossed out the first paper, pencil obvious as it met its fate in the barrel. The poor student didn't even have a chance, Touya thought.

"It's about Sakura." Touya started and Fujitaka looked up then, eyes bright. He was suddenly hopeful as he watched his dad glance at the chair once again.

"Have you seen her? I need her to type up and print out the exhibition rally." Fujitaka moved around as he shoved the papers into a folder and then into a large bag labeled ungraded papers. Touya shook his head, taking a step forward to get his father's attention.

"Yukito Tsukishiro will be coming to your office today. He wants to get a statement regarding Halloween night when Sakura _was_ here." He emphasized the past term, hoping his dad caught on quickly.

"Tsukishiro…?" Fujitaka blinked, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Why?"

"Sakura's…" Touya paused, throat closing up. "She's been taken."

"Are you sure it's not one of her charades?" That took Touya by surprise. "Your sister is old enough to take care of herself, Touya. You know that…I know that…"

"Dad, she was kidnapped, snatched, taken. She won't be coming back until we get her back." Touya grabbed his fathers arm, making sure he was listening. "Just talk to Tsukishiro. I told him to come by after your afternoon class." The pause that followed had Touya's heart pumping as he studied his father's expression. Finally he pulled away and finished putting his stuff away for the next class. There had been a brief flicker of real life, real truth behind his father's eyes. It was enough to prove that the man still cared even if it was bare minimum.

"Fine, will you do me a favor then. I need that notice typed out and posted on the door by tonight. Will you do that for me?"

"Sure dad," Touya breathed out, head shaking. At least the man understood the extent of it. He hoped.

**11:02 A.M.**

She could hear the music rattling the wall that her body was against. Every bone she possessed rattled, ached, and became sludge against her insides. For one blissful moment, she remained still with her eyes closed. Her nightmare had become a familiar memory engraved into her mind. Every injury she harbored was gone and she was dancing to the music that blasted throughout the house. She was the one on the other side twirling with hips like liquid, hands like snakes, and hair like feathers. She wasn't a hostage in some sick game. For one blissful moment—what sounded like _Avenged Sevenfold_—became her background music for studying or cleaning house. The rattling of her bones began to ache though, splicing through her hopeful feelings. When she opened her eyes, taking in the bare ceiling above her head with a swaying lampshade blazing life, her heart was the first thing to escalate in fear. She wasn't lying against a wall. It seemed like she was, everything from top to bottom and side-to-side was completely made of wood.

She was on her knees first, scrambling to the nearest corner of a wall before using the strength she had to get up and bang as hard as she could against wall number one. First instinct; music, there was music which meant there were people. Pressing her ear to a cold spot against the wall, her eyes closed and she just listened. Piano tunes, followed with guitar and violin, then a beat she couldn't' recognize as it became a sultry noise in the background of chatter. She could hear them talking, there was more than one person. She didn't know if they were echoing from some room or if they were truly on the other side of the wall she was pressed against. Second instinct; banging against the wall until someone heard her, even as she smashed closed fists against the wall she didn't think it was working. The music was on way too high and she knew nothing of the type of building she was trapped in. Resting her head against the wall again, absorbing the chill feeling against her hot flesh, she blinked at the connecting wall. For the first time since waking up she took in her surroundings. Slowly she turned around and dropped to the ground with her back pressed.

There was a distinct hole tearing at the seam of her jeggings, her knee sticking out. She blinked at it, little dots forming in her vision as she zeroed in on the cut covered in dirt at the top of her joint. One shaking hand went out to touch the mark, only to have her vision turn dark as she stared at her injured hand. Nails covered in grim and caked blood, under and over her cuticles'. Her one nail was completely gone, now black from dirt and whatever else decided to fester onto it. What caught her attention though was the triangle version of a branded sore. The rat had gotten her good and not only once. Tears slid down her face, slowly at first then quickly as she covered her red hand. Her entire limb was covered in a rash she knew wasn't good, knew would eat her alive. Shivering, she crossed her arms and began moving one hand up and down her bare arm, wishing she hadn't left her jacket in her first trapped home. Her nylon tank top was doing her little justice to stay warm, the single lamp above her head even worse. The light was too dim and too high to even give her warmth. Finally she let her eyes move around the room, taking in the square container. It was third time she was moved. She absently wondered how many more times was it going to be like that before they killed her.

Her surroundings or lack there of reminded her of a box. There were only walls all around bare and wooden, top to bottom. No cracks to reveal a door, no windows to give her sunlight and wash away the initial fear of being trapped under the house the first time. She was literally in a box. Third instinct; scream and scream she did, her throat burning from lack of hydration. Getting to her feet she rushed at the wall in front of her and crashed against it. Screaming at the top of her lungs she landed her fists against it and screamed until she couldn't' scream anymore. She felt a tingling sensation before her mouth tasted like copper. Blood slipped down her throat into her empty stomach. She had accomplished what most people thought was a figure of speech; screaming until there was blood. She could hear the music, the laughter, the noise continued on as if she was ghost. Crumbling to the ground she lay there for what felt like eternity. Fourth instinct and possibly her final one; hyperventilate, her chest rose and fell in fear of being stuck forever, in fear that the walls would suddenly start moving and closing in on her. She was tired to the point where her eyes shook from lack of water, sweat perspiring on her forehead, her mouth parched and tasting like a bad dinner.

Sleep was inevitable even in the state of mind she was in. A loud click echoed the small room and her body shook, head lifting to stare at the four walls. Her nightmare came alive as the wall moved, fear spiking inside of her as she thought of _Indiana Jones_ when the wall continued to move. She'd become delirious and almost laughed when a man stuck his head in followed by his large-muscled frame. He entered without a word, dark gaze on her. It took her mind longer to register another human being. There he stood silent and tall looming over her as she rested against the wall with her knees up and arms draped over her good leg. It took much longer then that to register that maybe someone was helping her after all. She didn't recognize him even as he tilted his head to reveal a tattoo plastered to his thick, muscled neck. He approached and she attempted to scoot backwards. She knew enough about psychology and all the bologna that went with it to recognize a man that wasn't there to help her. She read it in his gaze, his pupils were large and shaded over and his body language read predator. A sudden earthquake formed its way into her mind, eyes shaking, and body quivering.

"What do you want from me?" her voice was barely audible as the music continued to rumble on. Eyes went to the door behind him, cracked open to allow him freedom of leaving. There was only one way in and one way out. The earthquake in her head continued to rattle straight through her bones and she scooted until her body was standing.

Escape. One simple word so foreign she barely moved when he approached and got closer to her. The strong stench of beer and smoke engulfed her senses, giving her a taste of the real life. Horror struck a cord like a violin deep within. Gulping air, she lunged for the open door the moment he was far enough away from it. It was a foolish mistake, one only a scared rabbit would make when cornered by a wolf. That's how she felt, feeling his dark gaze on her like the predator he was. Large hands latched onto her arm easily and she found herself flying through the air and against the wall once more. Her head hit, stars sparkling her vision. Slumping to the ground, one leg up as she tried to keep moving, always moving only she couldn't budge anymore. Not now and not before. The adrenaline rush that had coursed through her before had completely vanished, replaced with trepidation. He approached again, like nothing had happened a second ago. This time she crawled towards the door, ignoring the laugh that came from him. He was toying with her. Her hands barely touched the opened door when she was dragged away, nose to the wooden floor and scraping. A scream bubbled from her already assaulted throat, barely echoing in the room.

Those large hands twisted her around, gripping her thigh as she started to kick. Large body straddled her thin form, testing the waters as he held her down. A sudden pain enveloped her lower back as she struggled to get free from him, her hip bone digging into the ground at an awkward angle. Bringing one leg up between them, she shifted and managed to slide backwards. His hand wrapped around her arm tightly, bruising her until her bones threatened to crack. A scream bubbled in her abused throat, barely escaping her lips when that large hand went to her throat and tightened. Coughing, she struggled to breathe. Seconds ticked by as he squeezed, his other hand going to her shirt and pulling it up. She felt the nylon fabric stretch at his pull, felt the fabric peel away from her sweaty skin. Dots filled her vision as he continued to squeeze the life from her, her struggle becoming futile as the last breathe barely escaped her lips and nose. She was weak against his large frame. Compared to him she was a butterfly with no way out from beneath his oak tree stature. Eyes closed, brain ceasing to oblivion when he didn't release her neck. As if sensing something different about her the moment she stopped trying, he released her. All the air kicked back in, lungs inflating as she sucked in a large gulp of beer scented air.

Too busy trying to comprehend what her lungs were made for, she sputtered and chocked, ignoring his next move. His weight had shifted, giving her legs freedom for a moment. Unable to process her lung capacity after nearly dying of strangulation, she all but froze and stopped breathing a second time when she felt it; his tongue against her skin. A shiver ran down her spine and curled around her toes at the disgust and fear. He licked her. She couldn't believe it. Body convulsed at the feel of his tongue on her stomach and she struggled some more, kicking his large body as he licked her stomach and up. Of all the things to do to her, he chose to use his tongue against her sweat-caked body. Arm shook from the bruise he gave her and she pushed at his head, trying to get him away from her as she screamed. Her throat burned, the metallic copper taste of blood swirling around her tongue as she bit her tongue from the sudden fist slamming against the floor just by her head. This was a foe she never expected to face in her lifetime. As his tongue made contact with her skin again, she used that to her advantage and attacked. One leg came out from under him and wrapped around his large back, hooking onto his shoulder and pushing with very little strength. She knew she was weak, knew she couldn't move him even an inch, but it got his attention. As he lifted his head up, mouth open to say something—she struck.

Thumbs met with his eye, nails digging into his flesh, and he roared. The sound vibrated through her bones as she struggled to crawl out from under him. With one final kick to the face she sent him stumbling backwards, her body projecting towards the open door. Adrenaline could do a lot for a person, especially one as weak as she. She barely made it to the door, body hitting the end and slicing a new chunk of skin from contact. The earthquake slammed against her insides, eyes rattling around her head from lack of food and water. Managing to shut the door behind her, she squeaked and let out an awful sound when he began roaring from the other side. No words came from him, only a horrendous sound that sent a weird sort of sickening feeling down her spine and around her stomach. The thunderous sounds of his fists hitting the door that wasn't there sent a jolt through her and she stumbled, crashing into the wall in front. She had to move, she had to get out of there. Legs sore, she stumbled and shifted until her hands connected with another wall. Panic rose and fell, eyes never once straightening out as she peered through the sweat haze of her adrenaline.

She was free. All it took was enough momentum and strength to run through her weak body and for a drunken man to make a mistake. She stopped dead in her tracks and vomited. It was like her insides were ripping apart and burning as she let out absolutely nothing from her contents. Convulsing, she staggered forward and gripped the wall with all her might to keep from collapsing. The music continued to vibrate the walls. It became a tug as she followed it, somehow managing to find the opening of a large room. Two people got to their feet at the sight of her, one person barely flinching when she vomited a second time. Her throat burned, the metallic taste leaving her insides and splattering onto the ground in clumps. She stared at it for a moment, envisioning the blood clots growing legs and scurrying away when someone spoke. Not sure what they said she went forward and stopped as cold fingers gripped her already sore arm. For a brief moment she was grateful for the stranger holding her up, she would have plummeted to the ground of blood clumps and—what? She wasn't exactly sure what would have happened if her face met with the carpet she stood upon.

"Where do you think you're going?" was the harsh statement, stopping her from head to toe. The voice was cold; belonging to a woman she could barely see straight.

"Victoria, who's that?" a woman asked with a snide tone of voice. The girl Victoria looked up with a fake smile, other hand waving them off like the sight of a dirty, torn apart girl was nothing.

"My cousin, we're taking care of her."

"She looks horrible. Why haven't you taken her to a hospital?" the man asked and Victoria barely flinched at the advice.

"She actually _came _from the hospital last week. Drained us completely." Victoria continued to spew out lies, her grip on the arm tightening as she propelled her sideways to head back the way she came. Just that movement her eyes wobbled, refusing to see straight as she felt her throat close up and burn.

"_Help me…" _she managed to get out and Victoria laughed, brushing it off as if it were nothing. Her voice was too weak to bounce off the wall, going unheard as she attempted to repeat herself.

"The doctor is due to arrive later today actually. We can't afford a hospital room anymore, only the visits. You know how it is." Eyes narrowed on her hostage as she grabbed her arm tightly in a different spot. "I'll be right back." The two people said nothing as Vicki dragged her out of the room and down the corridor.

She blinked up at her, taking in the girl's black hair and dark eyes. "I know you," just that recognition stopped her from fighting her grip on her arm. That's all it took. Not the faint feeling that she was going to collapse or the earthquake affect going on in her head, but the recognition.

"Good, then you'll understand more clearly why I took you." Vicki hissed into her ear and stopped at the door. Keys jangled as the thunderous roar of the man behind the wall rocked the walls, threatening to shatter wood to smithereens. "Fucking Brock, what did you do?" Vicki commented and unlocked the door, Brock stumbling out with his fists raised.

"I know you…" Vicki looked at her with a disgusted expression, throwing her into the room and following after her.

"Brock! I told you to shut her up, not play with her. Look she got out!" Vicki snarled at her brother as he followed and stood ground in front of the opening. One large hand rubbed at his face, hiding the marks giving to him.

"I'm so—."

"Where's the syringe?" Vicki stated, cutting him off. She stared at her hostage with cold eyes, one hand out waiting for the object she asked for.

"Here…" Vicki knelt down and grabbed her, pulling her arm tight to the point of breaking as she slammed the needle into her vein. No hesitation, not waiting for a blue vein to pop out, just stabbed her hard enough to give a startled squeak.

"N-no, n-no! What are you doing!? Stop it!?"

"This'll teach you. Get out again and I'll make sure you won't live to see the sun again." She left without another word, the door shutting behind with a loud audible click that sent a chill down Vicki's spine. Satisfied, she rounded on Brock. "And you…what were you thinking!? I asked you to check on her and shut her up."

"She's so tasty, Vicki."

A shudder and she slammed against him, pushing him aside as she strode towards the front door. "I have nothing to say to you now. Go play nice while I smoke a cigarette."

**2:11 p.m.**

He woke up to the sound of her screaming and shouting to the point where he was sure her tonsils had given out. She stopped making that horrendous cry when he heard Vicki and Brock talking. The music had come to an end, meaning Vicki's guests were gone. In all honesty, he was too weak and exhausted to care. He did care about the girl on the other side of the wall, mumbling incoherently then yelling at someone. He didn't know if she was delusional or if someone was actually in the room with her. He chose to think the latter as a laugh bubbled out of her before she started the rounds again; crying and laughing, mumbling and yelling. He was too weak to comfort here through a wall that he could only feel with his head. He'd become exhausted around the time Vicki moved him in her attempts to ignore that she had hostages in her home. There should have been only one hostage and that hostage was proving to be more of a nuisance for Vicki than she expected. It wasn't rocket science; the whole world could see how much stress Sakura was putting on the woman just by breathing. Add the second person to the equation and she was trying desperately to put up a tough front, one that included the drugs and cigarettes.

He was still bound to the chair, blindfold on. The reason? Vicki was scared, that's all he came up with. Whether it was because he was male or because they were trying something different between their two hostages, he could only come up with fear. It was obvious that Sakura had free reign by her constant tapping on the walls and moving around in the room next to his. It was obvious she was slowly deteriorating by the way she spoke and mumbled to someone that he was starting to think was her imagination. Sakura had fight in her though. She was stronger than he ever imagined a girl that had recently been running through a dark forest uphill and downhill, shoved underneath a house where rodents and insects roamed, then moved around a house that was larger in theory than sight. He still remembered vividly the moment the trunk of the vehicle they shoved her in flew open and she attacked. Sakura had landed a good one on Vicki before getting backhanded and shoved back into the trunk. Whoever Sakura was to them, she had a strength he envied.

The drugs he'd taken through his years left him weakened. The drugs in his system now wasn't fairing with the current situation either. He was hungry and thirsty, nauseated and disgusted. The ups and downs of mixing the two drugs had left him permanently fried almost to the point of no return. At times he couldn't remember his name until he remembered, yet only to shake uncontrollably from the reaction of two different substances. He itched to have his drug, no longer accessible, no longer sitting in his pocket. He could still feel the vibrations in his spine from Vicki's attempts to move him, chair and all. Her mild surprise to the fail in her opium was clear. Now that he knew what she gave him, his flashes of an old flame made more sense. The reason behind his superman attempt for a female he knew nothing about, let alone what _she _looked like made more and more sense as the time ticked by. How long had they'd been captive now? It felt like months. They were waiting for something to happen—Vicki and Brock—mostly Vicki. She was the brain in the kidnapping that much was obvious. Brock was just the muscle and muscle he was.

Sakura began tapping on the wall, gentle at first than harder. It was almost as if she was searching for something, listening to the hollow sound of the wood. It was giving him a headache. "Would you stop?" he asked, voice cracking from lack of use. He heard her whimper, heard the thump of a body as she landed on the ground, before the unmistaken sound of knees to the wood when she crawled back to the wall.

"Please tell me you're real and not my imagination." She begged louder than before. She was frightened and it just proved his theory that she had gone crazy.

"I'm real," he finally said after a moment, tongue feeling weird against the roof of his mouth as he spoke. "You're…high."

"But I'm on the ground." he couldn't help but laugh at that, the emotion hurting his chest as he coughed a moment later. "I take it you've never done drugs." He stared at the black of his blindfold, eyes casted down to see the little bit of light floating there.

"Drugs," she said the word slowly, letting I flow of her tongue before swearing colorfully. Syaoran wished he could see her—see anything really—but see her nonetheless. "I don't—shut up, yes you do—what are drugs?" Her words were quick, almost a slur of babble that he barely understood. He knew the stage she was in from personal experience, knew that the drug was eating away at her mind. She needed oxygen, food, water; she needed to get out of there.

He couldn't talk to her, not in the state she was in, not until it wore off. He tried anyway, mostly out of boredom, mostly out of spite. The taste in his mouth was becoming foul like rotting candy. "Sakura can you remember who I am?" he asked her slowly, trying to get the feel of his leathery tongue. It tasted like bacteria with hair on it, an odd observation as he tried to lick his lips.

There was no answer and for a moment he thought she'd fallen asleep or passed out cold. "No," her words were too soft to comprehend, but the syllable was enough for him. "Why did they take me?" she asked next a little louder then before, her voice cracking with tears.

"I don't know,"

"I know them." that surprised him, and he stared at the blackness of his blindfold, head tilted as he leaned it awkwardly against the wall. "I…know them…" Sakura repeated over and over again before screaming. He flinched as her outrage echoed the room, vibrating against him. He heard the click of a lock as she screamed louder, yelling profanities to no one in particular and screaming more and more until her throat was raw. He heard Vicki's voice as she told her to shut up, heard the thump as Sakura collapsed against the floor now mumbling softly about dragons and spiders crawling over her skin. Then, "N-no, stop it! STOP IT!"

The silence that fell after that made him nauseas. Saying nothing in fear Vicki would come to his room next, he listened carefully. His heart beat loud in his ears, obscuring most of the sound coming from next door. Sakura had completely gone silent, no longer screaming and mumbling. He did hear Vicki moving, leaving, and locking the door once again. The silence sent the hair on his arms rise, a chill racing down his spine. Exhausted and completely drained of life, he managed to figure out one thing. The more Sakura fought them, screamed bloody murder, the more they gave her attention. He could use that.

**To be continued…**

Thank you for the support. This story is coming along, in my opinion.

I need more feedback though. Please and thank you!

_Kidney Thieves_ was the chapter's background inspiration


End file.
