Blaze and the Mafia -Wattys 2016-

Chapter 9

I couldn't help but squint as a bright like suddenly cut through the darkness.
My first thought was admittedly death. This was the bright light everyone spoke about and I would be done. This chair would have yet another victim, a new ghost to scare away yesterdays. It didn't talke long for me to be hit by sense. Pain shot through me, as I sat slightly straighter. The scabby flesh of my back crackling at the sudden movement and as I recovered from the pain, only one thought crossed my mind. If I was dead, this was hell. Thing is, to still be here, in this room, I couldn't be dead. The one thing I could say with confidence, however, was that hell needed to seriously step up its game when this was the competition.
A man stepped into the room, the light from the open door blazing in behind him. It shadowed him perfectly, shaping a silhouette of the figure as he blocked the light. His face had been masked by the darkness but I could clearly see his posture was ridged. The further into the room he walked, the more I could take in. The slight limp in his leg which he covered by walking with a simple cane. The broken skin on the ends of his knuckles and the slight split on the mans lower lip.
He paused just before me, looking down with a blank expression.
It seemed everyone had mastered the expressionlessness around here.
He let out a grunt, seemingly believing any other job was better than dealing with me, and began to undo the buckles holding my wrists down. I blindly watched his fingers as he did so, noticing nothing more than the obvious absence of two fingers.
I was sure his view of me was clear. The light flooding through the narrow doorway and onto my slumped figure would illuminate me as it hooded him. Not once did I lift my head, I simply allowed my eyes to follow him.
My first hand soon was freed, and he moved on to the second. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I could hear myself screaming. Yelling at myself 'shove him back, rip the restraints from my body and flee'. I just couldn't. My body wouldn't allow it. My limbs ached and muscles cramped from just sitting here. My legs couldn't hold my weight, I could already imagine them crippling beneath me. I felt weak, drained. Each breath felt laboured as I struggled to focus on everything around me.
I hardly registered the man. He was a stranger and associated with these people. From his haggard appearance I was struggling to decide whether he was on good or bad terms with the people here. On the one hand, he was working with them suggesting his loyalty but on the other hand, this man was broken: He had a limp, was freshly beaten and missing fingers. Had he just been through this and scared into obedience or did he gain these injuries elsewhere?
Truth be told, what happened to me didn't matter. All that was playing on my mind was my sister. She had gone into the system, she would be all on her own, petrified. I had been with her through everything. I had attended a local university so that I could live at home. I was willing to take the beatings if she didn't. When my parents were taken from us and I the restraining order went through, I had every intention to try adopting her. I was going to take him to court, she wouldn't have come. I could never put her through it – coming face to face with the man who tormented her most her life? At least I had a few memories of the good times. Before our mother became controlled by fear and he took that as an excuse to step it up. I was going to get us into a situation where I got her and they paid towards it. I could appeal on the grounds that she was too frightened to be on her own. Such a sudden change in living situations would be unhealthy for her but I couldn't afford it. Instead, she was in the system. She had probably been already set up with a foster family. Somebody who maybe only took her in for the benefits. She wouldn't sleep at night, wouldn't eat. All because I wasn't there. I couldn't imagine how scared she was.
The man stood, having finished with the restraints and looked down at me expectantly. Slowly, I lifted my hands from the chairs' arms, as though if I were to move too fast the restraints would snap back down and force them back into place. I took a deep inhale, studying the man. I almost expected this was some sick trap which would result in my tormenter re-entering the room. Give a person hope just to snatch it away again. Finally, I raise to my feet.
Big mistake.
The second I rose from the chair, my head flipped. I could feel the room spiralling around me. Before I could stop myself, I felt my body tumbling to the ground in a heap. A hiss escaped me, the pain from my shoulder lighting up yet again.
The man made no move or attempt to prevent my fall, offering only a small flinch as my head smacked the ground. Pain split through my head, throbbing as a soft ringing filled my ears.
I had no time to recover. I managed to get what felt like the slowest blink, pushing my eyelids shut as I attempted to force away the pain before I felt his grip on my arm and my eyes were snapped back open. The man let out a small grumble of annoyance, pulling me back to me feet.
His grip never faltered. Strong despite the state of the rest of him.
We began to limp out of the room, his stick tapping on the ground with each step; my own feet stumbling beneath me.
Each step, another click. My eyes opened and shut as thoughts spiralled round. I wasn't tied up, not blindfolded and had been placed against a man who needed a stick to walk... not that I could without his assistance.
I glanced around the corridor. Two concrete walls stretching towards a t-junction. Each door, scattered along it seemed securely locked – doors matching the one I had just left. But then there was one other. A white door with a glass window. It seemed unlocked, unguarded and within running distance. I paused mid step he did so too.
"Sorry," I excused, "I twisted my ankle on the way in – my foot is killing me."
I needed to find Michael and get the hell out of here.
He merely nodded, not rushing me again but rather continuing to wait as I pretended to soothe my ankle. I couldn't help the feeling of guilt which filled me. Poor guy seemed to have been through enough these past few days. I jolted forwards, ripping the stick from his hold and watching as he began to drop. The man caught himself quickly, lunging for me. I didn't hesitate, wasted no time stopping to think. I swung round, slamming the stick into his gut and watched as he collapsed into himself. As he began smacking into the ground, an arm saving his head from the fall, I prepared the final blow. I flipped the cane in my hands. Holding the rubber gripped base as the solid wooden handle as the weapon. It raised above my head
"If you remember this tomorrow, im so sorry."
I swung down. Cane flying towards his head. He caught it in his grip, my apology apparently giving him just enough time to recover.
He turned to look at me, cocky grin stretched across his lips. My face dropped.
"Not so cocky now."
He pulled on the cane, snatching it from my grip.
I sucked in a breath.
No way was I giving up just yet.
I changed my style, raising a foot and slamming it into the mans head and smashing it against the wall. His eyes closed instantly.
"Oh my God..." I mutter to myself, hysteria settling in, "I killed him. I've killed a man."
My eyes locked with the blood stains on the wall where his head hit. The unconscious man didn't move, and I struggled to hear a single breath as his chest remained still.
"I'm a murderer..." I took a breath, feeling my heart pound in my chest as tears welled up in my eyes. I was shaking, physically shaking. Something I felt as though I hadn't done in years.
I crouched to his height, gripping the man's wrist and feeling for a pulse.
It didn't matter I was wasting time. I couldn't live with myself if I...
A soft thud rippled through my fingertips. A steady heartbeat. I didn't kill him.
A sigh of relief escaped me.
"I'm so sorry," I muttered, my hands raiding his pockets.
I was scavenging through his jacket in search of anything I could use.
There were only two items: a small flick knife and gun. It was only a matter of seconds before I was back on my feet and charging through the corridors. My body was pushing and shoving off either wall as I felt myself stumble yet I continued to force onwards.
The door at the end of the hall flew open as I shoved through it, slamming into the wall with a bang. Through there were more turns, more doors, no windows.
It was a gamble. Follow the halls with the risk of being caught but with the probability of a simple escape or take my chance with a door.
My eyes flickered over the locks. Keys, doors which locked from the outside, then finally, I stop. I had reached a door which could be locked from the inside.
Through all the corridors I had ran, it seemed a lost cause. There was no obvious way out so my last hope was a gamble with a door.
I just couldn't understand how I got so lost. I was walked in here, how could I not just follow it back out?
Heart still pounding, I stepped closer to the door. I pushed my ear beside it, listening carefully. If somebody was in there, I wanted to know about them before they knew about me.
"What do you have for me on the girl? Have you figured out why they want her?" I felt myself freeze at the voice. It was him.
"Neither of the men had much to say. They gave the impression they were sent in blind – got her name and location to find her then bring her to America. They were supposed to give her over at the lake just outside the City. They didn't say anything interesting, the person who hired them has links to a local syndicate – our main competitor. What I found surprising though is although they hired these two, it was paid for by a certain Stephen Parker."
"Of the New York Syndicate?"
"That one Exactly. It seems they have paired up."
"Putting us into a rather interesting position."
There was a slight pause.
"What about on your end? Did she say anything? Or give the impression she knew something?"
They were talking about me...
"Nothing – if she knew what was going on I would have known. Seems like a normal girl to me."
"Nothing special?"
"Unless by special you mean idiotic. Tried lying to me then refused to answer about her friend – not that he was a target of theirs to begin with."
"No," The man whose voice I recognised as Frances moaned, "You didn't hurt her did you?"
There was no reply, I could only assume he nodded.
"Don't lie to me Carter. You may out rank me but I'm still your brother."
Or maybe he shook his head.
I thought back to what he had said. Carter. That was the name of the man who brought me into his 'torture chamber'.
"She carries our symbol. Just my way of putting that damn Roger Kempton and his Organisation in their place. Show him who the hell she belongs to."
"Where is she?" Frances' voice turned hard.
"I know where she is" Carter replied, seemingly disinterested.
"Carter..."
There was a moments silence.
"She's in the corridor with Jax, I'm moving her to another room."
"Jax? The cripple?"
"He needs to have some use to us. Besides, she won't try to escape when she thinks we have her friend."
"And where is he?"
There's a small pause, "Gone. I entered him in the A TRAP. He-"
Then, I was flying. As the door shot open and my foot slid back, I felt myself dropping forwards. Collapsing to the floor.
I Ignored the throb which had now worsened, pulling my head up from the floor and locked eyes with the first person I saw.
"You?"
"Frances?" I gasp, as he stared at me, a frown etched upon his face.
"See, I told you she wasn't hurt," Carter, my tormenter sighed, indicating to me.
I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the protests of my back.
My hands softly brushed at my jeans, wiping off some non-existent dirt. I offered a small smile, "Hi..."
Both men simply stared. Carter with his hands casually in his pockets and Frances had paused mid-drink. He had twisted to face me.
I took a slight breath, foot sliding back as I soon there.
"Um..." Another small smile.
With that, I took off. Twisting on my heels and crashing through the halls. My body continued to scream at me as me feet slapped on to the ground.
My hand gripped the door, pulling it shut behind me as I continued to crash through.
I continued to charge, heart pounding as I sucked in each breath. My feet tumbled beneath me as I made as much distance as I could.
In my state, I didn't get far before an arm wrapped around me.
My feet flew forwards from the abrupt stop. Instantly, my arms flailed – scratching at his arms and hitting him as I desperately flung my legs in search of the ground. His grip only tightened.
"Get off me!"
He ignored my protests, effortlessly dragging me back through the door as I slammed my elbow into his ribs whilst kicking his shin. He made no sound, unaffected by my blows. Just as calmly, he kicked the door closed behind us.
I let out a grunt of annoyance, "Put me down!"
He did so.
My body crashed to the ground, head smacking on the cold surface.
I kept my head low, remaining on the floor yet sitting up as I attempted to catch my breath. Then pain. A hand gripped my hair, yanking it backwards so I had no choice but to look up. I would never have believed this to be anymore than an expression, but when my green eyes locked with his blue ones, my blood turned cold. I almost felt the colour drain from my face as I stared forwards, tears filling my eyes and a choke stuck in my chest.
I couldn't believe I ran. Who was I kidding thinking I could get away? Now, all I had done was get him even more angry at me than he was before. My heart pounded as I felt the scalded marks on my back flare up yet again, almost as a reminder of what I had coming. I squeezed my eyes closed as a soft breath escaped me. I couldn't stare into his blank expression any longer. I felt like I was staring death in the eye... and I may as well have been.
Finally, he spoke, "Send her to her room and make sure she's... comfortable. This time, don't let her escape."
"Yes Boss."
"As for you," he lowered himself to my level.
Make me comfortable.
My mind flashed to every gang, mafia or other criminal film I had ever seen. Comfort never meant comfort. My mind flashed back to the chair; the sparking fire; the red hot spider shaped rod. I couldn't help but remember the blood which stained the chair, the chill which filled the room, a chill that even the fire couldn't fix. I couldn't go through that again. If they tied me down, I couldn't fight. If they outnumbered me, I wouldn't win. They outnumbered me. But this was quite possibly the only chance I was going to get.
In that moment, I pulled Jax's pocket knife from my jeans and in one swift movement, sliced the blade through Carters cheek. He released a hiss. As the grip on my hair tightened, I stretched forwards, reaching for Carters gun. I had expected him to fly backwards in shock, leaving his stomach momentarily vulnerable giving me the chance to steal it. But he didn't. Instead, he flew forward. Hand gripping my wrist as he forced me backwards and pinned me to the floor. His hands held down my wrists and his legs were heavy enough to keep the rest of me still.
I didn't resist, didn't fight.
It didn't matter either way, even if I did get out of his hold, there were two others in the room ready to grab me just as quickly.
I had made my bed; now I had to lie in it.

A/N

Hey, sorry for dropping off the face of the earth again. 
Ill be honest, I've been going through a really tough time at the moment and I have been feeling really unmotivated. I had some really bad news about a month ago and I'm just struggling with it a bit. I'm sorry if chapters arent re-uploaded as fast as they would have been Xx