witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

forty-nine || mr. jones & me

   "How far is it?" I asked, feeling like the annoying little kid on a road trip. 

  "About an hour, you can take a nap if you want," he offered, and I smiled at the tempting idea.

 "Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly, feeling sort of bad that I usually slept through Harry and I's drives.

  "Yes, baby, I'm sure, get some sleep, I'll wake you up when we get there," he insisted, and that was all the confirmation I needed to slouch against the car door and drift off into a deep sleep.

  ***********

   The sound of metal scraping on metal was ringing through my ears and sending chills up and down my spine. It was like nails on a chalkboard, but so much worse.

   The smell of mold and mildew filled the air and besides the agonizing sound of metal on metal, I could faintly hear droplets of water periodically hitting the cold cement floors. 

   My vision was blurry, it reminded me of when you first stand up in the morning, and everything is fuzzy, giving you a sort of temporary blindness.

  But I wasn't standing, and I had no idea if it was morning. All I knew was that my head was pounding, and I was freezing cold. 

 "Harry?" I croaked out weakly, my throat feeling so dry that trying to speak the words felt like tiny knives being dragged up and down my esophagus. 

  The metallic scraping was about to drive me mad, and I got no response to my calling for Harry.

 Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps was added to the mix of excruciating noises dancing around in my clouded head. 

   I saw a faint light beginning to illuminate the dark and moldy room, giving me the opportunity to determine that I was in a cell of some sort, although, as the light grew closer, I realized there were multiple cells, from what I could see, mine was the only one that was occupied.

   My observations were interrupted by the source of the footsteps coming into full view. It was a masked man, dressed in all black, with a small lantern hanging lazily off his index finger. 

   "Hello there, sweetness," he grinned darkly through the thick ski mask pulled over his face. 

 The metallic sound was way louder than his disgusting voice, and I brought my hands up to cover my ears, wanting the sound to just fucking stop.

 "What is that fucking sound?" I hissed.

  The man chuckled a bit before answering. "We had to use a metal brush to scrape some blood off of the cell bars a few cells down," he explained, and I slowly removed my hands from my ears, feeling even colder than before. 

  "Whose blood?" I asked with a bout of confidence, although I wasn't quite sure if I truly wanted to know the answer.

     The man leaned forward and clutched one of the bars with his free hand. "I think you were actually calling his name out earlier, Harry, was it?" He asked sickly.

    My heart suddenly felt as though it had been ripped out of my chest by the masked man and twisted around in his sinful hands.

     "Why?" I cried out, feeling the tears forming. "What the fuck do you want?" I sobbed.

 The man shrugged casually, looking unbothered by my display of distress. "I don't want anything anymore. I finally have my software, thanks to you two. So it would seem that I don't need you anymore either."