A little action in here. I use the the F word a lot
Oh my God..what if Damien did something? No, scratch that. He's in the bathroom for fucks' sake! What if I'm gonna get mugged? Please no. You see, where I come from(Damien and I), if you were being mugged and didn't have any money or valuables, you were killed. Damien and I had escaped only once before. Wow..never thought something like this would happen again. Hm, Phoenix must be a pretty shitty place!
I stopped for a second. WAS Damien even in the restroom? Something poked the middle of my back, and even more panic shot through me. There was a gun. Pointed at my back. And Damien might not even be in the bathroom.
"I would keep moving, if I were you," the man hissed in my ear. "Wouldn't want your friend to die, now, would we?"
I swallowed. They had Damien! Forcing myself once again to stay calm, I put one foot in front of the other and let the man lead me. We were passing a bunch of doorways inside a very long hallway. We entered the last one, at the very end. At least a hundred feet away from society. The door closed behind us as soon as we'd entered. It was pitch black. I was forced to sit down in what felt like a metal chair, and then the lights came on. Blinding white lights that made my eyes water and forced me to squint.
"Where is she?" a figure demanded. I blinked a few times. "I said where is she?" the man asked again. I opened and closed my mouth. I had no answer. I received a blow to the back of my head. A mans hand, it felt like.
"Who?" I gasped out.
"Don't play dumb with my, you bastard," a different man with a huskier tone hissed, and I received another blow to the back of my head.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you're talking about!"
A blow to the left cheek. I tasted the metallic taste of blood. Shit, I bit my tongue!
"You know damn well who I'm talking about, punk, now why don't you be a good little boy and tell us where our Clare is."
"I'm sorry I think you've got the wrong guy. I don't even know a Clare."
A blow to the right cheek. I'm really starting to hate Arizona. I swear.
"Look, we don't like using force with you, but we need to know where she is. Her father is even willing to pay you a certain amount of money. Please cooperate with us, Mr. Stelaphe."
That made me stop. I was Mr. Gates, not this Stelaphe guy.
"My name isn't Stelaphe or whatever. It's James."
Somewhere behind me, somebody chuckled.
"Look mister, we don't like your jokes. We know you've got Clare, and we just want her back."
"My name is James, not anything else. And I'm trying to help, but all you're doing is asking me questions, questions I don't have any answers to."
Another blow. I know I shouldn't lose my temper, but I had had enough already.
"Look guys, I'll help you, I swear! But you're not going to get anywhere playing Good Cop Bad Cop with me."
Silence. I took a chance.
"I don't know who this Clare is. I don't even know who this other guy is. But I really would like to help you. Mind if I ask a question?"
"Sure. It ain't gonna help, but sure."
"Alright. Why do you think I'm this Stelaphe guy?"
"Because quite frankly, the man who described him - I mean you, said that this is what you looked like."
A picture slid towards me. I lifted it up a little closer to my face (because I'm near-sighted, you see) and almost laughed. This guy looked nothing like me! He had a beared, BLUE eyes, not hazel, but he did have brown hair. This might be an older me, but I sure hope not. He's kinda big.
"Um. I'm sorry, but I don't look like that." I held the photo up to my face, so that they could see. It took a few minutes of them arguing, but then it stopped. And they spoke.
"Well I'll be damned. It ain't you!"
"Or maybe you've just put on another disguise. Tie him up, boys."
Shit. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse! I had no choice but to allow them to put cuffs on me. Behind my back.
"What now, boss? We got nowhere to put him."
"Put him in the back, with his friend."
I was then pulled up and shoved into what looked like a storage room. And there, sitting on a box, was Damien. The man took the cuffs off and then locked the door behind him.
"So. They got you."
I glared at him. "Duh they got me! What the hell did we get ourselves into, anyway?"
"I don't really know. What I do know is that some dudes daughter got kidnapped. And they think you did it."
"Yes, I figured that part out. But why? I mean...who is this Clare chick?"
"She's 15 and a half, her dads in some kind of famous band, and some guy that was stalking her threatened to take her away. And then a few days ago, she disappeared. No body knows where the guy is, or anything. Happened in the middle of the night."
"Well, her dad and his band were here playing a show, because they're on tour, you see, and they left her on the bus."
"Alright, so she's gone. Why don't they just-"
The door, at that moment, burst open, and I found myself pinned up against a wall.
"Tell me where she fucking is you sick fuck," he snarled. I tried to swallow, but I was too freaked out.
"I said tell me where she is!"
"I don't know where she is!" What a stupid thing to say. You probably made him think she's dead!
He hit me. Hard. I tasted blood again. Shit.
"Look here, I'll give you anything you want, anything! Just give me my Clare back. Please."
I stared long and hard into this mans face. He had blond hair, blue eyes, wore all black, and was a few inches taller than me. And he smelled like smoke. Cigarette smoke. Ew.
"I'm sorry, Mister, I don't know who Clare is. I just got here today from Oregon, and all I want to do is go back home. I'd like to help you, but all you're doing is hurting me."
This seemed to work. Or not. The man let me drop to the floor, and then sat down on a box. I looked around for Damien. He was hiding somewhere. That or he had run out. I sat down next to the man. His head was rested in his palms.
"Sir? Please, I really would like to help you."
He reached inside his jacket, and for a split second I thought he was going to pull out a gun. But instead he pulled out his wallet, and took out a wallet-sized picture.
"This was her Sophomore year," he whispered, handing me the photo.
She had choppy brownish blond hair with a sort of fringe. Beautiful hazel eyes. And glasses. But what really caught my eye was her smile. She had this light that sort of lit up in her eyes.
"She's beautiful," I whispered.
"Yes she is. She takes after her mom, I always say."
"What was her name?"
"Clare. Clare Barbara Bryar."
Ha ha sorry Clare Bear, had to end it there. If you're lucky I might just go ahead and write another chapter out tonight..if you beg me!
By the way, that was your surprise at the end BRYAR!!