Daniel
The first thing I noticed about the room was that it was cold. Very cold. Cold enough that even though outside the heat of the sun had been blaring down with unrelenting intensity, suddenly I was regretting not following the advice of my wise old father.
“The weather can change in a moment,” he used to say, giving me a shrewd look that I knew better than to argue against. “If you have any brains at all in your head, boy, at least take a sweatshirt with you when you know you’ll be out for a long time.”
I wondered as I gazed at the metallic walls surrounding me, the ugliness seeming to reflect the cold temperature, had I finally proven him right?
One hand on each side tightly gripped my shoulder. It hurt more than it should have. I wanted to ask them to loosen, just a bit, or at least to take a different grip, but something held me back.
If I was going down, there was no way I was taking my pride with me.
At the far end of the room stood three men in suits, all around the age of thirty, leaning against the wall. I didn’t recognise any of them, but if the cold looks I was being given were any indication, they sure as hell recognised me.
I grimaced. Something told me this was going to be painful.
The hands gripping my arms yanked me to an abrupt stop. The jerking motion on my shoulder joints was almost more than I could physically bear. Tears were beginning to form in the backs of my eyes but I vowed to myself that I would never let them show.
A rough shove from behind sent me crashing into the one piece of furniture in the tiny room. It was a table. Wooden, old, and covered in meaningless scribbles, it wasn’t exactly what I would have expected. It was sturdy though, and welcomingly caught me as I slammed my hands into it to hold myself up.
The men at the wall watched this occurrence with indifference. Their icy expressions breathing unjust hatred never wavered.
I was on my own here. It was me against all of them, and I had little doubt that there were a lot more of them than the ones that I knew about. Where did they all come from?
Something Shaniqua had once quoted to me, years ago, something I had never really thought or cared about, suddenly made sense.
“Shadow people are the brightest of all. You just don’t see them.”
She was right, as usual. Having been a so called shadow person myself, I should have known better than to underestimate them, as she surely would have pointed out, were she able to see me right now.
Ironic, I thought bitterly, that if I had paid more attention to some of the things she said, I might not be in this situation. Shaniqua and her philosophical quotes. I was never going to escape from them.
I heard a loud bang behind me, and spun instantly around at the sound, no doubt to the satisfaction of my enemies. They fed off of my fear.
A man and a chair were attempting to shove their way through a narrow doorway together. A swear word, a sharp sound like snapping wood, and then the one man I dreaded the most stood before me, a look of grim displeasure clouding his already unattractive features.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he said, and my blood ran cold.
This is told from two points of view, so the chapter thingys alternate between Daniel and Bailey. Enjoy!
