Behind the Walls. NOVEL By Claire Darcy.

42. Gently.

Rowan was thrown to the floor, his breathing ragged. His body was littered with bruises and blood. He trembled, but not with fear.

After waiting in Detention for almost an hour, Rowan had been called once again to meet with President X. On the way, the guards had taken the liberty of punishing him a little for past crimes. He glared at the figure of President X with violent animosity.

"What do you want?" Rowan hissed, spitting blood onto the black, carpeted floor.
The President's chair turned slowly around; highlighting a flare for dramatics. The dark room and high ceiling added to this key, as did the cold, still atmosphere.

"You were with someone at the vote. Who?" asked the President. Rowan, still panting, pushed his way to his feet, struggling with the handcuffs. ThePresident rose from their seat to meet him, eye to eye.

"Dallas Rodriguez," Rowan said, "He's obnoxious- was wearing purple; hard to miss."

President X moved slowly from behind the desk to stand before Rowan; who only stood taller at the attempted intimidation.

"I'm not scared of you. Not anymore," Rowan spat. The President wasn't swayed.

"Who was she?"

"Who?"

"The one with you at the vote, Rowan."

"Dallas?"

President X had lost patience. Rowan shifted his gaze to the ground, clenching his jaw.

"Who. Was. The. Girl?" the President demanded.

Rowan tried his luck. "Which girl?"

Slap! The President's hand print came up raw and red on Rowan's cheek; streaks of blood from where three rings had caught him in a backhand strike. He gasped, his eyes wide but still staring at the floor, his neck now screaming with what could only be described as whiplash.

"Who do you think she is?" Rowan scoffed.

The President's nostrils flared. "I've been very patient with you, Rowan. After all I have done for you- now you deny me this one thing. The girl. Is it Amelia Cassidy Earnest?"

Rowan glared at his feet. "How should I know?" he barked. "You saw as much as I did. She responded to the name. You do what you want with that information. I want no part of this!"

The President grabbed his throat, bony fingers tight around his neck. Rowan could do nothing- his hands still securely in handcuffs.
"Tell me!" the President shrieked.

"Sh-she... is th-the s-st... The storm."

Rowan was thrown to the floor, fresh gashes at his neck where the President's rings had been torn across.

"No more poetics, boy. Just tell me who she is, or I'll kill her on the spot," the President threatened. Rowan narrowed his eyes; dark brown and stinging.

"You wouldn't," he hissed.

The President gave him a stern look. "You, of all people, know I would."