Penny
Voices are coming from every direction, some are hushed and further away and then others are closer and louder. Someone, I realize, is yelling, their voice is heavy and deep, a slight accent that I can't quite place.
Such a weird dream.
I try to roll over in my bed, but when I shift, I feel my arms are stuck by my sides. I snap my eyes open to a blaring white light that is pointed directly at me. Little spots spread across my vision, I try to blink them away. I pull at my arms, but the sound of metal is holding them back. When I can finally look around the room and am not blinded by the light I take in my surroundings.
What I notice first are the men who are standing around the room, most of them have their arms crossed and are staring directly at me. The others are leaning against the wall pretending that I am not actually sitting in the center of the room handcuffed to a chair.
My chest feels heavy and my head is pounding. I remember why I am here, of course, I hear the gunshots echo through my ears, I see flashes of the men's dead bodies hitting the pavement whenever I close my eyes. I witnessed two peoples murders tonight, and now I am kidnapped by those same strange men.
Mr. Bridger.
That's who they told me I was being taken too.
As I said, I am very aware of my situation, but that doesn't make me feel any less scared about being locked in a random room with a bunch of buff macho men.
The name Bridger rings a bell and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to remember all the trashy magazines I read in Brooke's apartment; she has a stack of them on her coffee table. Then I remember reading that he was named by people's magazine as one of the sexiest men alive. You know, that magazine issue where they pick a nice looking man for all the wives and mothers to swoon over? Yeah, that one.
The man who I hadn't noticed before clears his throat, he is being blocked by the bright lamp that is sitting on the table in front of me. One of the other men walks over and pushes the lamp to the side so that I am finally able to take in who is sitting before me.
One name rings out, Mr. Bridger.
He is intimidating, with his almost black hair, and eyes that are so dark it seems like you're staring directly into a black hole that continues on forever. But his mouth is held in stern a solid line with his hand resting under his chin. He is wearing the most professional suit I've seen, It looks like he could be going to a funeral. I glance around the room quickly to notice all the men lining the walls of the room are also wearing similar suits.
"So... we have a bit of an issue, Miss Jones." The man—Mr. Bridger—says, his features don't move an inch as he says this, his face is stoic and solid, the face of a man who is used to getting what he wants. I know this because my step-father's face is the exact same. No emotion. Ever. And if there was it was only twisted in anger and hatred.
My eyes widen, as the name, he mentions registers, my name, "Y-You know my name?" I stutter, my voice is dry and scratchy.
He tilts his head, "Yes. And that isn't the only thing I know about you, Penelope," His hand rises above the table and he holds it open.
One man to the left of me steps forward and produces a thick folder full of papers, he hands it to him.
He puts it on the table and opens it, slowly sifting through the sheets before pulling one up, his eyes scanning the page from top to bottom.
"You Penelope Jones recently moved here from Monmouth, New Jersey. You live in the 6th apartment on Barrow st. located in Greenwich Village. Is this information correct?" He asks, raising one dark eyebrow.
Shit, My heart rate picks up as I feel all the blood rush into my head. He knows everything. I nod slowly.
A slow smile spreads across his lips, "Of course, because we know every single detail about your life Miss Jones. From where you went to elementary school to where you went to the dentist." He closes the folder and moves it to the side. He brings his hands up, interlocking his thick fingers, and rests them on the table, "I have a lot of connections, in this city and across the country, there is nothing you can do after this point that I won't be aware of. I am a very important man, and you have made me very upset with you."
I lick my dry lips and swallow, my eyes flicking past the many men who are still watching, their gazes calm and collected, none of them are acting as if this isn't right. And I mean why would they? I remind myself that these were the same men who killed two innocent people without blinking. I slowly turn back to the man sitting in front of me.
"Listen I think this is a big misunderstanding, I don't know who you are sir, and I don't know why you have all my information, but I would really like to be let go," I say, trying to regain my composure, maybe I can trick him into believing I didn't actually witness two murders and that his men were just lying.
He smiles, "Is that so?" he asks.
I nod, pulling my hands as far as I can onto my lap.
"I think you know very well who I am Miss Jones. I will also like to remind you of how you were witness to a double murder tonight, a thing you were not meant to see," His rough voice grates against my eardrums, "I assumed that everyone inside The Den was content with themselves and unaware of the business going on outside," He shuffles a couple of papers as someone slides an iPad in front of me.
On it are my four friends who are dancing and smiling together, the flashes of the strobe lights are bouncing off of their sweat glistening skin. Brooke is leaning against Connor who is trying to support her by holding the back of her shoulders, I can tell from here that she is very drunk, or high, or both. One person however, isn't smiling, it's Connor, I can't quite make out his exact features from this grainy surveillance footage. But I notice the way he looks over Brooke's shoulder into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms, that the concern is written all over his blurry features. He whispers something into Brooke's ear, she nods and he leaves them walking quickly towards the direction that I disappeared in. As soon as he walks out of the frame of the camera, I notice three men weaving through the crowd of unaware drunk people following behind Connor.
"Where is Connor?" I say, my voice growing frantic, as the air around me gets thicker, my throat is slowly closing in on me again and I am finding it harder to breathe as tears begin to sting the corners of my eyes.
"So you see Miss Jones how much influence me and my men can have," he snaps his fingers and someone pulls the iPad away, the last moments I see are my friends as they continue to dance unaware of the current events unfolding before my eyes, having the best night of their lives.
"I-I what do you want? Please I'll do anything I am just begging you not to hurt Connor," I say my voice cracking.
He grins down at me, " I am a man who has enough power to fuck up your entire life and future
I hope you realize this."
I shake my head, "I don't care who you or these people are, I swear I'll forget everything I saw out in the alley if you just let my friends and I go," I feel the tears before I can stop them.
He considers me for a second, "My name is Enzo Bridger, and I own The Den, my connections are strong I can get anything and anyone I want. The last thing you want, Penelope, is to get on my bad side. I didn't intend for anyone to see what you were witness to. I could kill you in this very instant at the snap of my finger, any one of my men wouldn't blink an eye," My heart drops out of my chest and his smile grows, "But I won't, I have better things planned for you." He breathes deeply his eyes boring into mine, "Penelope Jones, you are now in my debt."
Enzo Bridger motions with his hand towards the door, it opens and Connor is dragged into the room. He is pulling hard against the two men who are holding him, Connor's eyes scan around the room, and finally, they land on me. His eyes widen as they take me in, from the chair to the handcuffs. His eyes widen when he notices the handcuffs restraining my wrists, Connor lurches against the men's grasp as he tries to get closer to me.
"Penny? Are you okay? What is this? Who are these people?" His voice is loud it echos against the solid walls, he finally looks at the man seated in front of me, and his eyes narrow, "What the fuck is this? let us go now!" Connor yells.
The man in front of me doesn't react to Connor's outbreak as if he's had to deal with situations like this before. He simply snaps his fingers and one of the men holding Connor's arm, twists it at a very odd angle, I hear the bone snap before Connor's agonizing screams fill the silence. None of the men flinch, their gazes remain unwavering. I can't hear myself but I know that I am screaming, my head is pounding and all I can hear is the rhythm of my heart beating against my chest, the sound vibrating against my eardrums.
"No. NO, please! Please! Stop, I will do whatever you want!" I yell, sobs rake through my body, as they pull Connor up into a standing position.
Someone comes up behind me and puts tape over my mouth muffling my cries, I try and pull my arms towards whoever is behind me which only results in me flailing against the restraints trying to pry myself out.
I hear the door open as someone new walks into the room, his hood is pulled over his face and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his black hoodie. He pauses a second inside the doorway, Enzo Bridger nods at the guy, and then the rest turns into a blur, my tears are fully running down my face. I must look like a total mess of snot and wet cheeks but I don't stop for a second, as I pull against my cuffs, screaming and swearing into the tape, trying to get them to stop, most of my swears are directed to Mr. Bridger who is sitting with a smug smile as he watches.
Two men still hold Connor up who's face is contorted in a rage I've never seen before - he is looking directly at Mr. Bridger.
"You will regret this you piece of shit." Connor spits, actually spits at Enzo Bridger. The spit flies towards him but falls short at his feet. Mr. Bridger looks down at it and huffs a laugh.
The guy with the hoodie pulls his hands out of his pockets which are tapped around the knuckles with black tape. I only realise until it's too late as he is pulling back his fist and brings it down into Connor's cheek. I hear a crunch as bone meets bone, blood flies out of Connor's mouth, as his head swings so hard in the opposite direction, it looks like his head might fly off.
My frantic yells drown out the sounds of Connor's screams in my head, it feels like I am dying, sitting here in this room unable to do anything as I watch Connor get beat. I look over to Mr. Bridger who unlike everyone else, isn't watching the beating, his eyes are locked onto me, his eyes are the brightest I've seen them and his smile shows all of his teeth. He nods slightly towards Connor, his eyes lowering as he chuckles to himself.
My eyes grow wide when I realise that this guy might never stop hitting Connor until he is lying dead. As punishment, I understand now as my eyes leave Enzo Bridger the tycoon and millionaire, a man with so much power who is smug as he relishes over this punishment that I am being forced to watch.
I look back at Connor who is unconscious yet still being held in a standing position, his head lulling back and forth, the hooded man is still punching, left right left right, like he's been programmed to hit until he is told to stop. My punishment for witnessing a murder is to watch one of my friends die.