Sometime later in the day, John left his desk and told me to stay in the building. He said he would be back as soon as possible, and that I shouldn't wander. He told me that the bathroom was in the next room, and that he'd left some things for me in my small area across the room.
"Where are you going?" I stood, leaning my head to the side, and knitting my brows. A confused puppy would give the same look.
"A few places. Just keep yourself occupied, try not to touch anything just yet." He went out through the doors; I listened as his footsteps became gradually silenced.
Sighing deeply, I crossed the room, and peaked behind the curtain that was supported by a divider, making a recess in the wall. Nothing very interesting was behind the curtain, just a twin bed, a heater, and a small dresser. On the dresser was a hairbrush, a toothbrush and a nail clipper. I was grateful for this little cubicle I could call my private area.
I closed the curtain, crossing the room again and grabbing my black plastic bag with all my belongings, and went back, placing it upon the bed. Very carefully, I folded everything and put it away, into the dresser. I took my time as I was sure John would not be returning too soon.
When that was done, I went in search of the bathroom. I went through the double doors and looked to my right, there it was. I opened the door and went in. It was clean, and smelled of the pink soap that you usually see in public restrooms. There was a towel on the rack next to the shower. I washed my face in the sink, and then noticed, while looking in the mirror, a purplish bruise forming on the side of my neck. I thought back to my old life, when I'd run from my attacker-
John.
-fearing for my life. I'd lost track of time for a while, deep in reflection, enclosed in the bathroom. A kaleidoscope of thoughts ran through my mind.
All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
Cherish your life.
I believe in you.
THUMP.
I instantly snapped out of my trance. John was back.
Quickly opening the door, I rushed out to greet him, instead I was confronted by a man half his age and twice his build. Frozen, we both were taken aback by the sight of each other. He was holding a gun; he was also wearing a police badge. The latter frightened me much more than the first.
I choked on my own scream; taking off at full speed, I could hear him behind me as I tore down the hall, further and deeper into the passages. I was headed in the opposite direction of the double doors; at this point I was trying to get out of the warehouse the way John and I had come. With no trail of breadcrumbs in this maze, I was finding myself utterly lost. I heard him call out-
"HEY!" He was following me.
I looked back once and not watching where I was going, crashed into someone else. I fell backwards, slamming my head on the floor. The impact was a hard thump sound. In a daze, the world was spinning painfully and I was staring directly at the ceiling blurrily, through eyes that were no doubt glazed over.
I fought to stay in the conscious world. Someone heaved my torso upwards, and dragged me backwards. Two voices above spoke low to each other.
"Stop…" I groaned. "…where…John"
I heard doors open, I was abruptly cold. I was lifted up and carried some distance. I heard a curtain make a swoosh sound and then I was set down on a soft cushiony thing. So deeply lulled by the warmth of the heater, the dull throbbing of my head, and the comfort of what I was supported by, my already squinted eyes closed fully and did not open again for some time.
-
The smell of garlic and tomato woke me. I sat up first before I opened my eyes, and when I did, found that I had been sleeping in the bed. My head no longer overtly pained me, so I tested it's seriousness by touching the spot. There was a small lump that was sensitive and sore. I swung my legs over and tried to stand up from the bed. My body didn't hurt and so I stretched, cracking the bone in the side of my neck. Listening, I could hear John speaking on the other side of the curtain. My stomach made an angry noise, and I placed a hand over it.
I stepped out gingerly from behind my divider; my eyes, still adjusting to the light focused on John's worktable, where he sat, next to the cop. Before I could react, John spoke. "Rivielle, do not be afraid."
I skittered back cautiously, "Who's he?!" I pointed at the man with the defined chin bones and hard stare. I had run from him, falling when I collided with John as I tried to get away.
"This is Detective Mark Hoffman. He works with me from time to time." John introduced him to me. I waited.
"Detective…this is my protégé."
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, smoldering in my face and creating a blush. Mark stood from his place next to John and came over to me. He held out his hand, and I received it, glancing nervously at John.
"How do you feel? That was a nasty fall." Mark smiled wryly. I felt stupid.
John looked up at me, waiting for my answer.
"I…I'm fine. Just…a little dizzy."
Mark then suggested I join them for lunch. Across the room was another table, it held serving dishes with various Italian foods. Pizza, ziti, breadsticks. I agreed, seeing as I was close to starved.
We ate, John and me in silence at first. Mark paused every few moments to ask me questions. I tried my best to answer, but he was very intrusive.
"When, exactly did you first become involved in your…previous occupation?"
I choked a little on my garlic breadstick. Coughing, I righted myself. "What?" He'd just met me. How very bold of him, and strange. Had John told him of me? Had he even…helped John trap me?
"When. Did. You. Start. Turning. Tricks?" He stared me down. It was a cold, critical stare.
I glanced at John nervously; he nodded at me, telling me it was okay to talk, as long as I wanted to. I didn't want to.
But Mark was so intimidating.
I mumbled under my breath- "Seventeen." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Where was he going with this?
"Do you feel you've learned?"
Without hesitating, I answered- "Yes."
"Learned what?"
More confident now, I replied "I learned the true value of life. I learned how to cherish it, despite your circumstances."
"Why should you do this?" He leaned in closer from across the table, our eyes were locked stubbornly.
Unaware that I was doing so, I leaned backwards, trying to create space between us. "Because…life is short." Quoting John now – "and the time you're given…it's an illusion."
John nodded in approval. Mark was silent and obviously irritated, yet content.
When I finished eating, I cleaned up. Mark and John stayed sitting, Mark wrote down some things on a notepad while John showed him some pictures. I couldn't help watching them, the business partners. A thought hit me, was John expecting Mark to carry on the games after…I didn't want to think about it.
John needed to be here, things wouldn't feel right. If not John, then Mark would. Clearly this was the plan between them. John wasn't getting younger, and he needed Mark. I didn't support it, but who was I? I'd only just come into the picture. Who knows how long John and Mark had been planning this. I felt a lump form in my throat, a bitter gravely lump. I tried to swallow it and the pain back, but it held fast. I ran my hands through my hair trying to quiet my irregular breathing, trying to calm myself. My heart was battering my ribcage, thumping wildly like it was trying to get out. I was losing control, I needed to hide this, and I couldn't let John see me like this.
I rushed quietly out through the double doors and went to the right, finding the small bathroom again. I flew inside and locked the door. Leaning against the wall, I slid down, sitting on the floor and hugging my knees to my chest. I began to hyperventilate into my shirt. I must've sat there for ten minutes, trying to calm myself and stop the insistent quivering in my hands. Taking deep breaths, I finally found the will to stand; I turned on the sink, putting my hands under the rushing, freezing water. I cupped my hands and let them fill up, I splashed my face. I wished I'd brought my toothbrush so I could've used it. I resolved to do it later, before bed.
Someone knocked on the door. "It's Mark."
I unlocked the door, and opened it; he stood just a few inches from the door.
I tried to step out, he stopped me.
"Are you alright?" He looked like he was evaluating me.
"Yes. I'm fine." I folded my arms, turning and leaving.
I could feel his hard, serious eyes on me. I half sprinted back through the double doors.
-
