Crimson Hunger

Chapter 33

"Those stoned fools have put you in here?"

Ian turned to his left and saw sturdy legs walking through the door though he didn't hear it open. He then looked up at the figure that towered above him.

"You speak English," he frowned.

"Obviously," the figure replied. "Get up," he added, "come with me."

Ian got up, his knees stiff. He wished to punch the man and run but didn't have the energy.

"My name is Amer and, yes, I speak English because I'm a TESOL-certified teacher," the figure said as he opened the door and walked side by side with Ian through a dimly-lit corridor leading to an unfinished staircase with no railing. Ian couldn't see his surroundings well when he was first brought down by several clumsy goblins.

"I am so sorry you've been ill-treated and I know my brother is a horrible man, but I still hope to reform him," Amer added, "I'm sure I heard him ask his people to put you in a different room. They were all told to take good care of you."

"Who is your brother?" Ian asked.

"Majid," Amer replied, "the man with tattooed arms and a stupid goatee," he forced out a brief chuckle.

As the two men climbed the staircase and left the basement to a better-lit area, Ian realized that Amer looked nothing like his savage sibling. He was more presentable, sported a tidy haircut like the schoolboy, wore a decent shirt and apparently had a strict shower schedule.

"I will take care of you since all the men here are stoners and the women are better kept away from good-looking foreigners," he said.

Ian stopped walking. "Since you mentioned it, can't you help us out?"

"Out?" Amer raised a quizzical eyebrow, "As in... escape?"

"Yes! I have a friend and she—"

"I—I'm so sorry," he interjected, his tone apologetic, "but I'm afraid that is beyond my power."

Ian was underwhelmed but his expression was blank. Amer patted his shoulder and the two continued to walk.

"Could you at least let me know how she is doing?" Ian asked.

"Maybe I can do that," Amer replied then showed Ian into a small yet comfy room. It wasn't the cleanest nor the tidiest, but definitely better than the slum hole in which he was first thrown. It also had an actual bathroom even though the toilet was more of a hole in the ground and the shower was above it.

"I'll leave you to it now," said Amer. "Everything you may need is inside the drawers." He left and shut the door behind him.

Ian's face clouded over and a sudden feeling of nostalgia engulfed him. He wished to be in his father's house even when the most important soul in it was missing—at least it was a place he called home, and home is always warm, safe and loving.

To his left was an old brown dressing table with severely scratched edges and a mirror broken at a corner. He stared at his reflection from a distance, indifferent to it. He was bitter with regrets and self-loathe. He wished to have his phone, but to whom would he speak? He didn't really have any friends and his mother's family looked out for him only out of pity, not love. Ada didn't seem to be his ally either. She was bored and found an adventure in him. He knew that as soon as this whole mess was over, she would hardly remember his name. Or maybe the adventure—and only that—would remind her of him.

The place was as quiet as his mind. He drew closer to the mirror and studied its sharp corner. He gently ran a finger over it then pulled back and watched his reflection a while longer until a knock on the door startled him.