How do I keep getting into situations like this? I’m beginning to think that someone up there has it out for me. My whole life has been a never-ending string of bad situations that only seem to get worse. This one probably takes the cake. I look around at the windowless, empty cellar contemplating my life because what else would you do when isolated in a cold, damp basement? I’ve been on the streets for three years now and have managed to avoid this very situation, until now.
I remember leaving work and heading back to the warehouse where a lot of runaways stay. I remember cutting through an alley, the sound of footsteps on the pavement, sickly feelings washing over me, a rough cloth on my face, and then nothing. I woke up in this lovely abode a little while ago. Fortunately I still have my clothes on. Thank god for small miracles.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them trying to stay warm as I lean against the cold walls in my chosen corner. This place is freezing. I think about trying to reach out to my…I guess you would call them powers. I think of them as more of a curse. They are usually only good for creating problems and questions. Questions I don’t have answers to. But right now I would use anything at my disposal to help me escape. No one is looking for me. No one is coming to save me. It is up to me to save myself.
Pulling my wool hat down tighter over my ears, I try to stop shivering as more frigid air blows through. This is getting ridiculous. I am going to freeze to death before they do whatever it is they have planned. Honestly, it might be a better way to go. I haven’t heard any of them though with the thick metal door and stone walls that isn’t surprising. Glancing around for the hundredth time, I check to make sure there aren’t any cameras.
Reluctantly, I try to reach out to the elements. I close my eyes and concentrate leaning my head back against the cold wall. It’s been a while but it’s always just like riding a bike. I hate the consequences that always come from using my powers but their actual use is addictive. It feels like I find a missing piece of myself that fills a hole in my soul that I didn’t even know existed. That I’m finally whole but part of something so much bigger at the same time. But once I stop those feelings disappear and I’m left with the sad reality that is my life.
Calming the air in the room, I encourage it to warm slightly. Just enough to take the edge off without attracting too much attention. Opening my eyes, I stretch out a hand and try to reach the earth but it seems too far away. There must be several layers to this concrete floor. Letting my senses expand, I don’t sense any other life besides me, not even rats. I huff in frustration. What kind of creepy, serial killer cellar doesn’t even have a resident rat?
I’m about to give up when I feel something at the edge of my range. Two somethings to be exact. One of them is hurt, their pain rolling through me getting stronger as they get closer. The other’s aura feels startlingly familiar. For a moment I’m back in that familiar alley. I pull back to myself just as the door slams open, the sound echoing in the small space. A buff looking meth addict throws another guy onto the floor before slamming the door shut again and heading away.
The guy groans but doesn’t move. His short, but full light brown hair is messy and I can see bruises developing along his arms. At least he got the chance to fight. I was jumped from behind. I feel his pain and wince. His injuries are severe. I fiddle with my gloves not really knowing what to do. Suddenly, he pushes himself up and looks around the space. He jumps slightly when his honey brown eyes land on me. His face, I realize, is pale and despite the cold he appears to be sweating.
“Whoa,” he says the strain apparent in his voice. “Didn’t know I had company.” I just stare blankly at him. I don’t know what to make of his appearance, and the reality of being trapped with him in this enclosed space is starting to kick in.
“Are you okay?” he asks staring at me intently. His question throws me off because I can feel the genuine concern and worry coming from him. I nod having lost the ability to speak apparently. Get yourself together and woman up Hadley.
“That’s good,” he pauses wincing. I feel the flash of pain along with him. “I’m Finn.” The overhead light flickers. It’s the only thing keeping us from complete darkness. I’ve never met someone like him. His aura is so light, not completely, but the closest I’ve ever seen.
“Hadley,” I say finally. He smiles at me and I’m pretty sure if it was lighter I would have been blinded.
“Well, I would like to say it’s nice to meet you, but this situation kind of sucks,” he replies glancing down at his gut. A small hysterical laugh bursts free before I can stop it. I sober as I follow his eyes to his stomach. Even with the barely functioning light I can still see the dark liquid staining his shirt. “My brothers are going to kill me,” he mutters. I don’t think he meant for me to hear that. I can’t help but think that they won’t get the chance if he bleeds out down here. Then I’ll be trapped in an enclosed space with a dead, decomposing body. We sit there for a while in silence. Repeatedly his pain washes over me, I can’t take much more of this. Finally, I make my decision.
Slowly I stand up, stretching out my limbs which between the cold and inactivity have gotten stiff. He watches me as I approach him. I feel his wariness and curiosity but I push it aside. I bend down examining his wound. Closer now I can also see bruises beginning to form on his face. I’m sure there are others I can’t see as well. I pull my gloves off and stick them in my pocket before looking back up and meeting his eyes.
“Okay, that’s pretty bad,” I say pointing at his gut. “I can help. I know you don’t believe me or anything and are probably going to freak out but I can help you.” He stares at me before nodding his head. Well, that took less discussion than I thought it would. Maybe it’s the blood loss going to his head. Maybe it’s Maybelline. Who knows?
Tentatively, I place my hand on his arm. I hear him gasp but block it out. Sending my energy into him I seek out the injuries feeling them like a black stain and wiping them clean. I don’t heal them all the way though. One, I don’t want to pass out and two, he still needs to be injured or even the biggest moron will get suspicious. Once I’m done I release my death grip on his arm and open my eyes.
He is staring at me with wide eyes but his color already is starting to look better. Yep, expected that one but what I didn’t expect is his emotions. Instead of confusion, I feel pure happiness and excitement and possibly contentment? What is up with this kid? I stand up fully intent on moving back to my corner when all of a sudden, faster than I can even comprehend, arms wrap around me pulling me into a tight hug. I tense at the contact but for some reason don’t fight it. Something about it just feels right somehow.
“I will get you out of here,” he breathes next to my ear. I don’t know why he should feel so concerned with me. Is this that hero syndrome thing, where since I saved his life he now feels the need to save mine? He pulls back and looks at me sending me another blinding smile. I fight the urge to return it.
“You know most people would be freaking out about what I just did,” I comment.
“I’m not most people,” he replies winking. No he is not. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. I was walking back from work when I was jumped. I woke up in here a little while ago,” I explain trying not to be too detailed. No reason to tell the hot guy trapped in a cellar with me that I am a homeless orphan.
“Work?” he asks with a lot of surprise. I scrunch my eyebrows reassessing him. Is he one of those sexist, women are only good in the kitchen people?
“Yes, work. Why? Got a problem with that?”
“No, it’s just-“ I raise my eyebrows at him ready for him to dig his own grave. Wait! Maybe not grave. That seems a little too close to our current situation. I don’t know what you would use instead though. It is just a saying so it should be fine, right?”
“I’m sorry,” he says waking me from my rambling thoughts. “So people are probably looking for you by now.” I shake my head looking down. Feeling his confusion at my answer, I guess it is a little odd not to have anyone that would have noticed. Even the other teens in the warehouse will just assume I’ve moved on because the other alternative, this alternative, isn’t something that is talked about. “My brothers are most definitely looking for me by now.”
“They are going to kill you?” I ask curious about these mysterious, murderous brothers. Though I can’t help but be jealous that he has people to look for him.
“Ha, yeah, probably. I was reckless and let those idiots grab me,” he explains stretching out some of his muscles. I just watch slightly enjoying the show. When I healed him I learned some stuff including how well built he is. I wonder if his brothers are like him. Bad brain, not the time to daydream. I shake my head slightly trying to clear it. I usually find the other sex repulsive after my experiences. What is with this kid?
“Do you know who they are?” I ask about our captors.
“No,” he says reluctantly and from the guilt he is giving off I can tell he’s lying. Before I can call him on it, the door slams open again. Finn jumps around standing in front of my protectively. I swear he just blurred a little. Three large men including the one from before enter the room. I sense the darkness in them before they even get close, that same sickly feeling. Ugh, it just makes me nauseous being near them. One guards the door while the other two head for us, cuffs in their hands. One of them yanks Finn forward as the other one grabs me. Soon enough we are cuffed. My hands now trapped behind me, I of course feel the urge to scratch my nose. Not the time, nose!
They herd us out of the door and up a really old pair of stairs. I think it is a miracle they carry all of that weight and don’t collapse. Once we make it to the ground floor I take in my surroundings. We are in a large warehouse even bigger than the one I live in, in the east district. I recognize this warehouse though. It’s the type found in the west district, the place no one wants to be found in after dark.
I reach out with my senses and find quite a few people around the building. I quickly mask my emotions. There were two types of people around the building. A few with the black auras like the men leading us across the warehouse and a few with almost completely light auras like a certain person walking in front of me. Maybe they are his brothers. I sense four all in different spots around the warehouse. He never told me how many he had. I feel a little piece of hope begin to bloom in my chest before I can squash it down.
I pull back to my surroundings when someone grabs my arm, hard. I wince and look up at the guy. He smiles at me but there is nothing nice about it. I manage to hold back a shudder.
“You are so pretty,” he says licking his lips. I vomit a little in my mouth. I try to pull away but he just tightens his grip.
“Ow!” I can’t help but exclaim. I might be able to heal others but I can’t heal myself and I bruise easily. My exclamation draws the others attention including Finn’s.
“Let her go!” he commands. The others in the room just laugh. We make out way outside to where a stereotypical kidnapping van is waiting. Two more guys are waiting for us. I wish they would just return to whatever cesspool they came from especially iron grip beside me. The guy that has a hold of Finn tries to shove him in but he pushes back dodging their hands faster than I thought possible. I’m too focused on him that I don’t see it coming.
“Ahh!” I exclaim as a hand wraps itself in my hair pulling tightly. I vaguely see my hat fall to the ground before all of my attention focuses on a cool metal blade I feel pressed to my throat. I glance down trying to see it before I look up and meet Finn’s eyes.
“Now you get in the van and she won’t get hurt,” the one holding me sneers. Finn just continues to stare at me. I can see the debate clear as day in his eyes. He wants to fight but for some reason he doesn’t want me to get hurt. Someone really needs to teach him a little something about self-preservation. I feel the blade push harder and wince as a warm liquid tracts down my neck.
“Can’t I just have a taste?” one says from behind me. A taste of what? I can feel myself start to panic really hoping the answer to that question is not me.Start writing here…