26 August 2012
I was woken up by my own scream. A cold sweat trickled down my neck and forehead, and my heat was beating at a dangerous pace. My eyes were darting around the room with a wild attitude, frightened eyes. The cold. The forever cold. And three words etched in my mind, invisible to the untrained eye, the words, the words... He is coming. He is coming. A hand touches my fragile shoulder I scream, pulling away. For a moment I thought I saw the figure flinch, but only for a second. Half of his face was blackened in the dark of the room, a slit of light coming from a naked lightbulb. The walls were cracked and caked in dripping grime, the room small and cramped. There was a old sink in the corner of one room, and I sat in a creaking stained rusty bed that smelled of sour milk, hugging a single torn sheet to my chest. I realized, I was in a cell.
He began to say something, his teeth gritted and hands balled, then turned his head away in disgust at himself. He seemed to be quite young, only same age as me.
The key turned in the lock, and a two twin black boots stepped into the room, sending a thin layer of wispy grey dust rising and falling through the air. His face was unshaven and a long pink gash scarred him across his swollen shut left eye. A thick cigar hung out the side if his mouth like a brown slug, and every so often he would take a long slow drag on it. His cracked lips turned up into a sneer as he spotted the boy, fuming with clenched teeth and balled up hands next to the bed.
"Scar." he growled.
"You looking after our girl, Boz?"
"You let me out. NOW."
"No can do, Boz. It's what happens to traitors."
"I didn't steal it." Scar didn't reply, just took another drag on his cigar.
"Scar, you let me and her out, right now."
"You know we can't just let her get away, Boz. And I can't just let you out."
Boz looked Scar, unflinching, hands clutched at his sides, seemingly making a decision in his head, but keeping his eyes locked on Scar. All of a sudden, he ran forward and rammed into Scar with a force that sent him flying across the room. His head slammed into the wall and he fell to the ground, a pool of blood beginning to form on the floor, cigar still hanging from his mouth. Boz turned to me, sitting stunned on the bed.
"Run." so I did.
Blue Chapter Three • Opuss № I