The Worst In Me

16 - Sang

This place is massive. And I didn't even have to bother with finding a light switch because this place has motion-censored lights, allowing me to take it all in.

Surprisingly, it just looks like an expensive man-cave—what with its pool table and giant tv and warmly decorated colors. Criminals or not, I have to give the designer of this place props. They did a good job.

Sadly, though, there's not much else in here. It doesn't look like the kind of place a bunch of drug lords would do their dirty work, but then again, they don't much look like drug lords either.

My hand hesitantly glides to the waistband of my leggings, checking to make sure it's still there, though obviously it wouldn't have up and walked away. It's just a nervous tick, I guess. Before I got out of the car, I grabbed my gun from the glove compartment and tucked it into my pants, letting my sweater fall down and cover it just in case. I mean, I know there isn't anyone here—if the previous darkness in the room, zero cars, and lock on the cellar door are any consolation—but one can never be too careful.

Making my way around the room, I check in random drawers and under the couch. Basically anywhere I can find that'll give me something else incriminating. I find nothing, but when I throw my head back and let out an irritated groan, I notice something: a door.

A grin stretches across my face as I tread over to it and pull it open. The smell that assaults me is stale and rank, and all there is to see is stone. Taking tentative steps down the stone stairs, a path of light follows me, illuminating the way. When I reach the bottom, I'm shocked and horrified to see that I recognize the place. It is the one I saw in the video from Corey's computer; the one where they were beating a guy named Damien.

Before me is a much smaller space, all stone, all dark. It seems the lights in here aren't nearly as bright as they were upstairs, maybe for the fear it no-doubt instills into any victim that sit waiting in here to be tortured. I'm certainly afraid, and suddenly, it isn't only because of the big cage in the moderately-sized room, or red-stained chair in the center. It isn't even because of the cart of rusty tools coated in dried blood in the corner. It's because I hear footsteps.

How had I not noticed I've been followed sooner?

Yet I already know the answer to that question. These men have an uncanny way of clouding any rational thought or judgement. My senses are thrown on overdrive, and suddenly they no longer work properly. They're here.

Slowly, I turn around, knowing I'm about to see three angry men. I know it must be North, Silas, and Gabriel. I had the overwhelming sense that they'd been following me earlier, and yet I didn't see their car. I didn't see them trailing me on my way here, so that must mean they were tracking me a different way... And then it all clicks. They've been tracking my phone, and I don't even want to think about how they were able to do that right now.

"Um, hey, guys. Didn't see ya there," I say weakly when I'm finally facing them, trying, for some strange reason, to appear innocent. Maybe if I pretend like I got lost, they—

"You really expect us to believe you got lost?" North seethes, his shoulders pushed back and his fists balled at his sides, clearly ready for a fight.

I smile like a child caught in a lie. And I guess I kind of am. "You know," I wave my hand in the air like I'm swatting at a fly, taking a page out of one of Raven's books. "I'm really bad with directions and I really needed to find a bathroom. Turns out there isn't one in this joint, and the service here is terrible. And, oh, did you guys see that big cage over there? Crazy, huh?"

Not one of them even cracks a smile. They so came down here to kill me.

Note to self: if you're being cornered by three super attractive criminals—two of which are practically the hulk—don't make jokes. Humor is definitely not the way to go.