The Scourge |Book #2 Turned Trilogy|

[3] Lara

“Lara, going through your records, I notice you are quite different than the rest,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Looking back into his aged eyes, he pulls his body forward into my gaze. “What do you mean that I’m different?” 

“What I mean is that you haven’t seen these so called, Children of Darkness…” 

Thinking silently, I remember Taylor mentioning this strange phenomenon. Brushing it off though, I just chalked it up to her being crazy. Maybe there’s more to her strange behavior than I thought.

The vent above my head spews out crisp air, causing goose bumps to form over my bare skin. Wrapping my arms around my waist, something shifts in the upper left corner of the room. My eyes dart to the figure, it is shadowy and black. One second it is there, and then disappears, like it never was there in the first place.

What the hell was that? Could it possibly be what I saw earlier in Taylor’s cell, mistakenly thinking it was her?

“Lara?”

I’m pulled from my thoughts, gazing back at the nicely dressed man. Salt-peppered specks flickering through the high and tight haircut, he holds power here, someone important. Wondering where he got his nicely pressed suit and the gold rings that push over his wrinkled fingers; I feel disgust fill my gut. 

“No, I haven’t seen anything of that sort,” I say, but wondering what that shadowy figure was.

The man pushes up from his chair, standing, looming over his desk. Tall and lean, he could tower over just about anything in his path, including me. A smile spreads across his face, smooth, like whipped butter lathered on a soft piece of bread.

Now pacing in front of me, he traces his fingertips across the surface of his desk. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I run this prison. Not much can get past me, Lara. I suggest you be honest with me, let us become…friends,” he says with that same toothy grin. Now, pushing up from own chair, I charge towards him with my hands fumbling at the collar of his beige coat. The guard’s storm after me, yanking me back with fiercely and whip me away like a force of wind.

“I will never be your friend!” I scream, spitting toward his face, but it falls down onto his shiny brown shoes. 

He chuckles, “Feisty! I like you.” Walking back towards me, he trails a finger along the side of my jaw. I snap at his finger, tempting to bite the tip of it off to watch blood ooze from the wound.

I chuckle this time. “Don’t tempt me asshole, I’m thirsty and night is drawing nearer.” 

“Threatening me?” 

Play along… I have to keep reminding myself, over and over. 

“I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t control my actions, or thought process,” I say, smirking.

Pressing his hands against the sides of my arms, he leans into me. “Don’t worry child, let me help you, but you must cooperate.”

I nod my head in agreement. 

Trying to swallow saliva to wet my dry throat, I gaze up into his hopeful face. “What’s your name?” I ask in attempt to become his “friend.”

“Samuel Ledgard, but please call me Led for short,” he says with an exhale of breath. Still rather close to my face, I pull away from his body heat. Led’s eyes trail down the front of me and settles on my stomach. 

I look down where his gaze has fallen. “What?”

His eyes meet mine again, not allowing an eye to blink once.

Pushing away from him, I feel uncomfortable in his gaze. Before walking away from him, he wraps his large hand around my wrist; the pain from my wound causes me to wince. 

Looking back at the guards, I say, “Take me back to my cell.” It was more of a demand. 

Led tightens his grip, “You go back when I say. I have more questions for you!” He yells, his chest rising and falling fast.

“Let me go!” 

His face is beat red and sweat forms around his temples. Someone knocks at the door, the guard eyes Led to see if she should proceed to open it.

He sighs and releases my wrist. I pull my arm close to me, trembling from his drastic mood swing. Led motions with his hand for me to sit back down, with no choice, I follow his order.

“Let whomever it is in,” he barks orders at one of the guard’s. 

The door opens and footsteps enter inside the room with us. Feeling the presence of someone behind me, I am tempted to turn around to see who they are. By the look on Led’s face, he seems happy to see this particular individual. Grinning from ear to ear, he walks back around to his desk and sits.

“Hello son, finally you come for a visit.”

I turn around. The aching need to know who stands behind me fills me with panic. Shifting my body in the chair, I turn to see who stands only a few feet from me. My eyes widen with shock, despair, angst.

“Wyatt?” I say, but my voice seems far away.