Shivers of cold went up and down my spine as I awoke from a restless sleep. Had I been sleeping? Maybe I passed out. I had been propped up against a cold wall in a pitch black and cold space. No windows appeared to be present. I hate the dark. I tried to move, but I felt resistance on my hands and feet, I figured I had been bound. My hands were tied behind my back. I felt around on the ground behind me for anything sharp to release myself from my traps, but found nothing. Only the cold concrete beneath me. I wondered where I was, and how I got there. Searching my brain for any memory of this event, I came up with nothing. No recollections of how I got there, or how long had passed.
How I longed for a glass of water right now. My throat was so dry, I felt like I had not drunk anything in days. The darkness gave wherever I was a feeling of being buried alive, but there was no comfort of a soft casket. No sense of suffocation. No dirt or mud to suggest being in the ground. The air was musty and smelled of mold, like a cellar or basement, and the complete silence was deafening. My ears ringing were the only sound I heard. I was completely alone . . . or so I thought.
I heard faint noises coming from far above me. They were muffled voices, and shuffling feet, I guess I was not completely alone. I wanted to scream out. For help. In anger or fear. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat hurt like hell. It felt like someone cut out my tonsils with a dull razor blade.
I heard a door creak open. Maybe someone was coming to save me. No, I wouldn't be so lucky. I probably ended in this hell for a reason. Maybe not a legit ament reason - but a reason nonetheless. Maybe I had done something wrong in my past life and it was coming back to haunt me. Yes, that had to be it. The Gods had a vendetta against me.
I heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. A slight smell of alcohol filled the room, as the person approached. The aroma got stronger. A dim light now illuminated the room, and I found that I was - in fact - in a basement. The walls were a dirty brown colour and the windows were boarded up so no light could come through. There were jars of preservatives stacked on a shelf directly across from where I was situated. This place was revolting to me. The look, the smell. Everything
A tall, lanky man came into my line of sight. He had short, dark, almost black hair and dark green eyes. He smiled curtly and kneeled down to my level. His breath smelled strongly of vodka. I wondered if he had downed a whole bottle before arriving. Staring me right in the eye, he sneered "You will do what I ask of you, and nothing more. You will help me achieve my goals. If you don't, you will suffer the consequences." He gave me a vindictive smirk, and pulled out a knife from its holster on his pants and inspected the shiny silver blade. "Do I make myself clear?" the man asked me again, and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I could do nothing but nod my head. Being satisfied with my answer, he left without another word or gesture.
This was it. This is how I was going to die. Alone, in a dark, cold place. I was at my grave. No one could save me now. I tried so hard to break free from the restraints, but they were too tight. I panicked and fell over, face-first onto the ground breaking into a cold sweat. I was weak. This is not how I wanted to die . . .
Another chapter will be along shortly. :)