Chapter One Mistake
"Aaron, what are you doing?"
A tall boy, hunched over a duffel bag, turns. In his right hand he holds a small fistful of clothes. In his left hand he holds his deodorant. He sees his little sister in the doorway of his room. She doesn't look surprised. He has done this before.
"Listen, Nikki," he begins looking anywhere but at her, "I'm going out to a party. I need you to cover for me when dad calls, okay? Tell him that I'm in the bathroom or something. I should be back tomorrow in the morning."
Nikki is petite. She has long light brown hair with golden highlights. Her eyes are large, almost doe-like, and are of the most golden and lightest brown hue. On each ear she wears three, small, glittering hoop earrings. She is adorned in a long, black shirt that reads "I heart chocolate," and tight spandex shorts. Aaron hates those black spandex shorts. They always ride up Nikki's legs, to the point in which she is constantly pulling them back down.
"You're not going to get wasted again… are you?" Nikki hates it when her brother goes out to parties. Each time he would come back, and she'd lose a part of him. As if he were a mirror that kept on cracking— soon all the shards would fall. And with that… he would be gone. She knows that he is addicted to the alcohol, and the girls.
The worst thing about it is that Nikki never told anyone. Their dad had no earthly idea that his son is not the perfect little prodigy he always thinks Aaron is. Their dad hasn't even the slightest clue that, when he goes on his over-seas trips, his daughter is left home alone. Sometimes Aaron would be gone for weeks at a time, and Nikki would be left to fend for herself.
"You're not coming back tomorrow are you? You always say, 'I'll be back tomorrow— oh I'll be back tomorrow,' but you know what? You never are back. You're never back until weeks later." Nikki crosses her arms over her chest. She feels like she is the only parent figure in Aaron's life. What with their father always being gone, and their mother in a comatose state at a Californian hospital.
Aaron groans, "Nikki, it's none of your business. Here," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, "here's a hundred dollars for you to keep it zipped around dad."
Nikki doesn't take the money.
"Take it," Aaron says indignantly. When he sees that Nikki wasn't going to budge he groans, and turns back to the task at hand. He finishes packing his duffel, zips it, and hoists it over his shoulder. "Come on," he urges her, "out." He pushes Nikki out of his room, and she stumbles into the hall.
"Aaron— I'm not covering for you this time!" Nikki hisses, her fists clench and unclench at her side. She tries to stop him. She tries to make him see sense. Nikki follows Aaron through the apartment, "You can't keep drowning out your problems with alcohol— you need help. I'm telling—"
Aaron cuts her off with a slam of the front door. He has left. He knows that Nikki would never tell dad. Nikki is now alone, and her fear is painfully obvious, as she sinks to the floor.
She is terrified of being left alone. Yet she would never ever tell her father the truth about Aaron. She values her relationship with Aaron above many things— even if it is a very shaky sibling relationship. She loves him because he is her older brother. Aaron has always looked out for her… he has always protected her… But now it is her turn to do something to protect him. And she cannot even raise a finger.
A tear tickles her cheek, before she fiercely rubs her eyes with her hand.
I will not cry… I will not cry…
Silver it's the color that he sees momentarily… as the sun hits the glimmering automobile. An itch that he knows he cannot scratch builds within him. He so badly wants to steal it, to make it his. It is a gorgeous car— it almost takes his breath away— it almost makes him forget. Almost. But then the boisterous noise of Hong Kong's streets catches up with him. He looks away, and leans against the wall opposite of the huge illustrious hotel.
I already have many cars… he thinks to himself.
A vending seller calls out somewhere down the street. Some little scoundrel is running through the thick crowded streets with a chicken tucked under one arm.
Run… as fast as you can… he smirks.
When a group of girls pass by, he sinks farther back into himself. He constantly is making sure that his hood is covering his face— constantly making sure that he makes no eye contact.
A hand clamps down upon his shoulder. He does not flinch. He looks to his right where his brother has suddenly appeared. His brother is hiding as well. Then he looks back across the street toward the hotel.
Voices sound. A tall Caucasian boy greets the men outside, who wait to take luggage in for the wealthy. The boy then moves to the car that he had been eyeing earlier. With a smooth move, the boy whips out a small rectangular device, and unlocks the car. The boy then gets in, and soon drives the car away.
"It is time, Diamond," his brother whispers, "when the streetlights come on, and everything is dark, we will make our move. Down this alleyway, now."
Of course they couldn't take the girl now. Not when people were still walking the streets; not when a kidnapped girl, thrashing around, could be seen. No. They would wait for the sun to set, and the stars to come out. They would be taking the backstreets tonight.
"Do you think she already knows?" Diamond asks. Absentmindedly he fingers the gun, holstered to his right hip beneath his long baggy shirt.
"Father says that she doesn't know anything yet. She hasn't yet discovered her gift." Diamond's brother replies.
Interesting… A watcher who does not see…
Nikki watches the sun set from the high up apartment. It has been an hour since Aaron had left. She stands on the balcony, looking out at boats floating on the water in the distance. A slight breeze causes her hair to flutter around her. She watches as the last of the sun's rays disappear beneath the horizon, and stars start to dapple the evening sky.
She wonders what to do next.
Room service… That would be the next step. She would order room service. But even before that she would go around the apartment and turn on all the lights, TVs, and radios. The sound was what comforted her— even if she couldn't understand much of it. After all she was an English girl amongst a foreign civilization. And Nikki's father moved way too much for her to even think about learning the language. So she barely bothered to learn more than a few key words. But thank goodness the hotel had a few people in their staff that knew English.
Quietly she turns away from the balcony and heads inside. She shivers involuntarily as she shuts and locks the sliding glass door. Something doesn't feel right about tonight. But then again she never feels secure when she is home alone.
Striding to each of the five rooms in the apartment, Nikki turns on everything that she has resolved in turning on. Then, after feeling somewhat reassured, she goes into the living room where the telephone resides on the center coffee table. She picks it up, and dials room service.
The line rings for a minute.
But then someone picks up.
"Hello?" Nikki begins, "may I speak with a translator, please?" She knows that this is the way her father orders room service. It is the way that she, herself, has learned to order room service. But sometimes… sometimes she wonders if they think of her as rude. They probably do. Heck she barely even gave them a polite greeting.
There is a long crackle, and then something like a gasp on the other end.
"Hello?" Nikki feels some odd feeling at the pit of her stomach. But she thinks nothing of it. "Hello," she says again.
"Room service," replies a surprisingly young male voice, thick with an Asian accent.
"Hi, umm… may I have some rice… and ummm perhaps some milk?" Nikki knows she should be getting protein… but she had just recently turned vegetarian, and she didn't know what would give her protein without having to eat meat.
Silence on the other end.
Then, "Will that be all?"
"Umm, yes," Nikki replies, "thank you."
Instead of there being a, "Your food will be up shortly, have a good evening ma'am," like she is accustomed to Nikki receives the sound of being hung up on. She frowns, and tries not to think anything of it as she puts the phone back on the table. But that odd feeling in her stomach wasn't going away.
For thirty minutes, Nikki sits on a stool at the island counter in the kitchen. She draws in her sketchbook. She draws the plant sitting on the counter, next to the stove, in front of her. She cross-hatches in the shadows, and uses her eraser on areas where she sees light.
Soon a light knock is heard throughout the apartment. Nikki stops, puts downs her pencil, jumps off the stool, and wanders to the door. Subconsciously, she pulls down her spandex shorts, making sure she isn't too revealing, and then peeps through the hole in the door.
There is her dinner tray.
Nikki opens the door.
"Mistake number one, little girl," came the same voice from the phone. Suddenly a fist slams into Nikki's face, sending her crashing to the floor. She cries out in surprise and pain.
Two masked figures come into the room. One of them closes the door. The other kneels down next to Nikki, and pins her against the wall, both of his arms on either side of her. Nikki covers her face with her hands, caressing her throbbing cheek. Nikki can feel his warm breath fanning out upon her cheek. She begins to struggle. Not daring to look into his eyes.
"No," he growls. He then forces his knee between her legs, and presses it against her stomach— forcing her still. "Now listen here girlie," he begins softly, "Your 'father' works for the division, and he's obviously high up with the leader— obviously since he's landed you your very own suite," he gets closer to her face. "But division has found out about you, and is now currently entering this hotel as we speak. And your father is being held captive— but I'm afraid that we can't let division have you, sweetheart. Not even with your father's life on the lines."
"What are you talking about?!" Nikki cries out. She tries to struggle again, but his knee presses harder into her stomach. Nikki gasps for breath.
The person, pinning Nikki down, chuckles. "You don't know, do you? You mean to tell me that your father has never told you? You poor, little, naïve girl— don't you know anything about your father? Damn girl— you're naïve."
"What the—" Nikki is frustrated now, "let go of me— someone! Help! HELP!"
"Diamond!" hisses the other figure in the room.
Diamond clamps a gloved hand over Nikki's mouth, and slams her into the wall. Her head hits it hard, and she cries out. But her cry is muffled. She doesn't notice that her captor winces, and turns his head away as he does this. All she knows is that he's scary, and could do many horrible things to her if she doesn't obey.
"Listen girlie," Diamond hisses, "We're taking you, and there's nothing you can do about it. The less struggling you make, the less pain you'll receive— understand? If you try to run— I will not hesitate to shoot your ear off." He presses a hand to her cheek, making her wince. It is where he had hit her only minutes ago. He leans in close, in an intimate sort of way, and whispers in her ear. "That would be such a waste, though, don't you think? Such a pretty girl like you…"
Tears well up in Nikki's eyes, and she clenches them closed. She doesn't notice her captor's hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face— she doesn't notice when it stops midway, and falls back into his lap.
"Diamond…," warns the other figure in the room, "Ruby's alerting me to some sort of commotion on the second level. The division is here, and they're coming faster than we thought."
Diamond curses. He stands up, and hoists Nikki onto her feet by her elbow. His touch is surprisingly gentle.
"Please," she says. Her voice comes out in a strangled whisper. "Just let me go— you have the wrong person!"
"Be quiet," Diamond hisses. He pushes Nikki towards the door, "You're coming with us quietly, if you don't… well…," Diamond pulls out his gun, and points it at her. It does not shake. He knows how to handle guns.
Nikki shuts her eyes tight, and wishes— for just one moment— that Aaron had not gone.
Aaron…