The Prisoner Project

FIVE

Behind me, the clocked ticked past 12pm.

"Hello." He finally said, I could see a glimpse of his jagged teeth, they looked like the kind of teeth that monsters had in the comic books you read when you were thirteen. It made him look inhumane. His voice boomed but it was cultured and smooth, severely juxtaposing all that he was.

I started in a rush, because the adrenaline that had been in me was bubbling over. "Did they tell you what this was? What I'm doing-"

His voice cut through mine like a blade that was sharpened at the two edges. He said again in the voice that was too smooth to be his. "Yes, they did. I said Hello, don't be uncultured and introduce your self."

Banshee had a British accent. I was stunned. I nodded reluctantly and cleared my parched throat, lying through my clean teeth. "Hello, Banshee. I'm January."

He was the kind of person that took seconds to reply. He ate your words, tasted them, chewed it up into bits, swallowed and then replied. He parted his lips to speak. "Not Banshee." He shook his long bronzed hair. "It's Nicholas, or Nick. Banshee is for the press."

I felt my brows furrow. Nicholas was too normal a name for him, just as Richard, Nancy, Ted, Jack, Jeffery, John, Alex, Luke, Holmes were too normal a name for some terrible people I had heard about. I had assumed people like Banshee had been born with names given by the Devil.

He wasn't a Nick, the post man who worked on my street was called Nick.

"You're a disgusting murderer, Nicholas." I muttered, unable to control my words.

I didn't mean to say it out loud but due to the fact that I was repeating it in my head like a mantra to remind myself that he was dangerous, I had word vomited.

"How charming." Was what he replied.

His dead eyes remained on my face and his eyes moved from my eyes, down to my nose, mouth, ears and back to my fearful gaze. Finally, he cocked his head to the side and his eyes slid down to his handcuffs. "You know, I could snap these off if I wished to. I could shatter the glass-" He tapped on the glass, startling me. "- and reach over and break your fucking neck just for stating the obvious."

That escalated so fast. I bit back a gasp, keeping my face still.

"I could. But I wouldn't, cause it'll scare you away." He finished, his gaze anything but blank.

Oh, but it would kill me too. I felt a lick of fear course through my spine. The grip of fear had wrapped it's bony fingers around my trembling neck and squeezed.

I mumbled, knowing my job was to keep him talking. About anything. "Why do you care that it will frighten me?"

He leaned back against the tiny chair, his body seeming too big for it. He moved with caution, like he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders. Atlas. "Because it's been years since I've seen another real face but mine. If I ripped your throat, they won't let me see daylight for another twenty years and I'm not getting any younger." He looked up again, and I looked away. "Besides, January, you interest me."

I shook my head vigorously. I knew he was being coy to pique my interest. If he made me feel like I had interested him, I would begin to relax. I would think I had the upper hand. Then he would latch onto my vulnerability and fuck with my head. "No, I don't interest you, Nicholas. You just met me, you're only saying that so I feel like I've gotten your attention."