New chapter! Exciting new chapter! I hope this makes up for the long gap in uploading; I came down with a bug. I hope you like thhe chapter, please vote!
I looked at the time on the illuminated screen of my phone. It was around eight. I cursed my slowness in finding this place. I didn’t want to come when it was so dark, but I wasn’t going to wait another minute.
I looked at the still water of the pond beside, and then at the dilapidated building in front. Travis had got it wrong. There was no warehouse nine near a water body. It was warehouse nineteen.
I moved forward as carefully and as quietly as I could. Whatever path or road there had been was overrun with weeds and grass. It was pretty dark, but I was able to make my way by the small flickering light coming from the building ahead. This was definitely the place.
I strained my ears, trying to pick out any voice from inside. It was a quiet night, but I couldn’t hear anything– no voices, or even any movements apart from my own. I crept towards the building, trying to breathe and move as quietly as I could. I made it all the way to the building without being found, and pressed my back against it, thinking hard.
Even if Travis was in there, what would I do, anyway? I was alone and unarmed. What if this creep saw me, and managed to get me too? That would help nobody.
Maybe I should call for help? But who should I call? The first person my mind jumped to was Keith, but I didn’t think that I should be calling him to help me rescue my ex-thief secret boyfriend who’d been taken by some psycho. I really didn’t think I should call anyone, not even the police. Travis himself was an ex-criminal; plus he didn’t really have any identity. I’d only call for help if it came to the worst moment.
I crept along the wall towards the window, hoping for a better view. The light from the window was dim, but showed through sharply in the dark night. I took a deep breath, and then chanced a glance inside. I could hardly see anything, except that the room was dusty and pretty empty. I waited outside, listening to find out whether or not anyone had seen me, but there was nothing. I took a deep breath and steadied myself, before again looking through the window. This time I kept my face there, and looked around. The window was narrow, and I couldn’t get much of a view. From what I could see, there were just a few old construction materials or something similar piled up in there, and not much more. The light was yellow and flickering; probably from an old-fashioned lantern or something.
I pulled away from the window and leaned against the wall, trying to calm my nerves. What should I do now? Sneak in, obviously, rather than barge in there like an idiot with no backup and nothing on my side. But then what? Man, I really should’ve thought this through.
I took my phone out. I didn’t need the light, but I decided it would be good to keep it in hand. I crept around the building, until I reached the other side. I looked around for a door, but the only way to get in was by opening this huge shutter, which was already partly open. Damn. There was no way to get in stealthily. The windows had bars, and even if they didn’t, they were too high up for me to climb into easily.
I looked around, and found a small wooden crate nearby. I picked it up and tried it out; it seemed sturdy enough, like it could support my weight. I pulled it to the window as carefully as I could; the slightest sound could tip off whoever was inside.
I took a deep breath, and then slowly stepped onto the box. I blinked to get used to the light; it suddenly seemed much bright from this angle. The lantern–it was a lantern–was really close to the window, and it took me a while to get past it. The rest of the room was pretty much the same as I’d seen through my glimpse. A few boxes scattered here and there, some planks and broken pieces of wood lying around, and so much dust, picked out by the yellow light. There was one long, wooden table, with tools and implements laid out. But what was behind it made my breath catch in my throat.
A solitary chair, with one person sitting in it. He wasn’t actually sitting; he was being held up and to it by thick chains that went over and around him. The head was down, the posture lax, and I could easily see the blood slowly dripping out from underneath the metal constraints.