The Runaway Sister

twenty-five | a dull cell

My head pounds against my skull. My skin feels clammy. A harsh gust of wind falls over my body and leaves me feeling chilled to the bone. 

I gasp and my eyes open. I'm met by a pitch-black ceiling. My eyes adjust to the darkness before I can make out what I am being kept inside. 

The walls are made of concrete. There is a heavy, metal door directly in front of me, locking me inside this dank room. 

I heave myself up off the floor, and sit back against the wall. I feel like I am being weighed down by bags upon bags of rocks. 

My ballgown has been replaced by a loose black uniform—pants and a shirt. They are at least too sizes too big, but they provide me some warmth in the cold temperature of the cell. 

I pull my knees to my chest, and wrap my arms around them, trying to conserve enough body heat. I don't even have any socks on my feet. 

My hair, which is surprisingly brushed out and slightly damp, falls in front of my face, giving an extra layer of heat to my cheeks. 

My heart rate picks up the moment I begin to settle. What is going to happen to me? Will I be tortured and starved? Isolated? Suffocated? 

I am sure my brothers will come get me soon. I just need to last a week at most here, right? They must already be on their way. 

"Breathe, Eve. Breathe in, breathe out," I whisper to myself, squeezing my eyes shut. I try to imagine a paradise, but my mind is so fuzzy and my brain spins. 

The door to the cell opens. I jump up from my spot on the ground, eyes wide. The red-haired man from the foyer enters. 

He smiles at me, flashing his pearly white teeth. "Ah, the American's darling girl. What will your brothers do without you, little one?" 

I keep my mouth shut, my back pressed against the wall, keeping my distance from this man. He is clearly more dangerous than he looks. 

"They will go crazy without you. I've seen them almost come undone—when your dear uncle took you—yet they unfortunately kept it together." 

I narrow my eyes on the ginger. "My brothers will come get me." 

He smiles. "Only if I want them to." 

"They don't need your permission. You are a sick, sick man. Why do you hurt children? Does it give you pleasure? Or is your mind too messed up to care?" 

The man's eyes turn harsh. He strolls up to me, and grips my face in his hands. "I can snap your neck easily, girl. I can make you suffer here. Do you want that?" 

I stare at him. 

"That's what I thought." He steps back, and smooths his suit down. "Follow me, little one. There is plenty to do and see." 

He turns on his heel and takes long strides. I have no choice but to follow him out of the cell and down the dank gray hallway. 

There is no other life for a long time. Hallway after hallway, staircase after staircase. I don't spot a single soul until we reach two metal doors guarded by three armed men. 

 What lies behind that door? 

The guards straighten when the red-haired man walks up to them. A slick smile warps onto his lips and he punches in a code. The doors opens. 

He turns back to face me. "Welcome to the Center, child." 

———

The ginger told me to call him Sir. I won't. He also told me I am not likely to become one of his assassins. He didn't say it, but the implication was there.