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— TWs for violence and blood

  HER WORLD CAME UNDONE as she awoke. Tearing apart at the seams by greedy hands and razor-sharp words.
  For a moment she was paralysed. Seven knew fear, far more than she'd ever like to admit. In some sick way for a long time her fear had been her only friend, keeping her alive, sane, and saving her life more times than she would ever dare to count. But this... This was different.

Her world was black; a never ending night. She couldn't see, and so many sounds harassed her senses that she became deaf it all. She was deafened by static, that horrid, buzzing thrill of white-noise.
  Seven had only been out for a few seconds, but it felt like forever. She fought to stay awake, battling against unconsciousness. Her throat ached, and blood pooled on her tongue; bitter and metallic and violently red.

Seven could shackle her terror in almost any other circumstance; keep it close and hold it tightly between her fingertips. She'd handled Crawlers and felt Sins fall at her feet. She didn't just feel her fear; she revelled in it  — and at times, even loved it.
  Control was her primary mania; reigning her terror was just another extension of this. And at first, she couldn't quite place what made this moment of fright different than the rest, but a few moments later she realised. This was unknown.

It was the uncertainty of it she feared most. These men were  certainly not Crawlers. These men were not Death Eaters, or Snatchers or Sins or any other horrid form of human that Seven knew by name.
  Through the pounding of her heart, one thought came to her, along with that acrid knot of dread that curled in the pit of her stomach. These were Navy's men. Which meant she was in even more danger than she'd initially believed.

Somewhere, as if far off, she could've sworn she could hear someone shouting her name. Seven, Seven, Seven...

In her mind the word sounded foreign — wrong, but she couldn't quite place why. She tried to struggle, but her limbs felt heavy, her head; drunk. A slurred curse left her lips, their captors had charmed her, making her docile, submissive, easy. Seven wanted to be none of those things. She fought against their magic, her fingers reaching for her wand only to find an empty pocket.

Callused fingers pressed into her arms, her thighs, her throat. They held tight enough to bruise and she cried out, begging them to stop but no release came.
  She screamed, she thrashed, she fought. Seven would never stop fighting against the hands that stole and repressed her.

Her head was foggy, clouded, and she couldn't think through their magic, and what little movements she could manage were slow and uncoordinated.
  Inch by inch her hand worked its way towards her garter, clasping round the hilt of her dagger, struggling to work it free with this new-found weakness. At one point her hand slipped, and her fingers slid over the blade. Seven bit her tongue to stifle the scream.

She still couldn't see, she could scarcely breathe with the bag over her head. It smelled like sweat and burlap and over-ripe fruit and caused bile to scorch the back of her throat.
  It made her sick. Hesitating, she gave herself a second to gasp a thick breathe of stale air, then swallowed it down as she forced the dagger backwards and towards her captors, with all her strength.

After that, the world had exploded. Lights flew behind her eyes, sparks of scarlet and emerald blue danced around her head right before the blackness swallowed her whole as her skull collided with something hard, and fists founded into her body.

• • •

  EVERYTHING HURT.
  The rough edges of agony had dulled and now all that remained was the steady, throbbing ache that pulsed in Seven's bones with every pitiful beat of her marred heart. Everything hurt.
  She tasted blood, felt it, embodied it, and eventually, became it. And when Seven finally came around the ground was cold and even beneath her, bones jutting uncomfortably into the unforgiving stone.

She splayed her fingers out first, feeling the grit and chill biting at her fingertips before she willed her eyes to open and the world came barely alight. She no longer heard her name echoing like a weapon in the barrage of sound, instead, this time though she could still hear shouting it sounded further; she thought it to be above her maybe?

Her lungs felt thick with blood, weighed down and struggling to flex, and she doubled over within herself, coughing and gasping greedy lungfuls of the bittersweet air.

Her thoughts were foggy and uncoordinated, so much so that when a pair of men appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her, hauling them after her, she did not put up a fight. Even if she had wanted to she doubted she could.

Everything hurt.

The pain was everything. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Her chest constricted as she was lifted, feeling bruises and broken ribs being pressured into places they shouldn't. What had they done to her?

" — Where is she?!" Another shout ripped through her conscious, commanding her attention. The voice was rich, dark, settling over Seven like home. "Bring her to me, now!"

She knew the name, could picture the face, yet her mind didn't quite allow her complete conscious thought just yet. Suddenly Seven's skull gave a horrific pulse, tearing through her head with white-hot agony and causing her to cry out.
  A whimper escaped her lips as she struggled to lift her head from the dusty concrete, but when she did the room was large; barren except for the men that stared at her. A warehouse.

" — Seven..." Bill groaned through bloody teeth, and at once her eyes found him, he lay beaten and bruised at the other end of the room. The men loomed over him, with crimson knuckles and steel-toed boots, it made Seven feel sick at the thought of what they could've done to him.

  Why hadn't they killed them yet? Or were they keeping them alive to torture them for information, only to kill them both later on when they began to outlive their usefullness.

"Bill..." Her voice was hoarse, scratchy, strained from the purple finger prints that scarred her throat. "What did they do — ,"

And then she saw him. She trailed off, suddenly weak and breathless. Heart pounding, terrible and aching with every struggling beat. He was not supposed to be here. He was not supposed to look at her in the way he was.

If she had once held words, he'd stolen them away. Every letter she'd ever owned tumbling from her hands and scattering irreparably across the floor. It was all she could do to stare, wide-eyed and frozen.

He was terrifying, and yet somehow still beautiful beyond belief, in that strange way only broken things could be. Like the sky right before a storm, struck with thunder and emanating danger; the perfect portrait of anarchy.
  Only this picture was all wrong, twisted sickly and mottled with rue. Draco stared at her with no thought or feeling in his eyes, he made no move towards her, he didn't try to speak. Had she only imagined his voice calling out for her?

Questions showered her with a thousand ice-like daggers, crawling down her spine and demanding to be felt, unable to be ignored. "Draco..." She breathed, a rip of agony tearing through her as she forced herself up onto her hands and knees. The room swayed and for a moment she feared she may fall down again. Why wasn't he coming to her?

"Draco..." She echoed again, telling herself that maybe he just hadn't heard her. But yet again he did not move. If anything his murderous frown only deepened, something akin to a snarl dancing on his lips.

He looked at her like he hated her. It hit her all at once, slamming down upon her like a tidal wave, and now she was drowning, clawing at the surface of an ocean of grief. Seven fell back, heart thundering in her throat as she forced herself away from him.
  Something shattered in her chest, she knew they hadn't exactly left one another on the best terms, but there was no explanation for this. She felt foolish for missing him, for the way he'd been in every dream she'd had since he left. He hadn't missed her, and the look in his eyes spoke louder than words ever could. But why was he with Navy's men?
  Had he been one of them all along? — Playing with her heart and toying her along, pretending to be everything she had ever wanted only to tear the ground out from under her feet and send her tumbling to land right on Navy's doorstep? If so then she was foolish, she'd let him in and now she was paying for it. Seven told herself that whatever came next she deserved, no matter what it cost her.

It was then that her gaze travelled south, to his hands, strong and callused — and covered in crimson.

"Seven — ," Bill spluttered as he spoke, holding out a hand as if reaching for her. "Run."

  ***
Just because I know how much you guys love cliffhangers <3
As always if you have any questions, just ask and I'll do my best to answer!
QOTD - What do you think Draco's doing?