TBD

Chapter Three - TIME TO SYNC WITH CHAPTERS

Chloe

"Aren't you supposed to talk to the person when you interrogate them?" I ask in the silence that has already stretched too long. The cute boy across the table from me remains motionless and placid apart from his empty, blinking eyes.

"I assume this silent treatment is to make me crack and expose all my deepest darkest secrets to you, right?" I joke, tugging on my restrained arms.

"Well, it's definitely working." I tease with a smile, trying to make him react. Still nothing, not even a tilt of his lips. I huff, irritated. "At least tell me why you kidnapped us and brought us here. Also, where are my friends? I know they are all here somewhere, but I kind of miss them, so can you please just take me to them? I swear I won't run." He shifts in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "No? Come on, I'm not asking for much." I push, pausing to see if he'll respond. He doesn't. "Fine. Just tell me if they're all right, I need to know."

At the first pause of our lovely conversation, he looks away, holding a finger to his ear. He nods but still doesn't speak, which I can't help but feel unnerved by. He stands from the chair and swiftly strides to the door, pulling it open and walking out of the room without so much of a glance behind him.

"Okay..." I prolong the word.

Sitting in silence, I start to fidget with my hands. The handsome man won't even engage in conversation with me, and I'm not really sure how to react. I wonder if a purposefully awkward stare-off could get him to talk. I could keep track of how long it takes him to become uncomfortable. I contemplate my plan, wondering if he'll even come back into the room, or if they will just leave me in here to die of boredom.

I busy myself with trying to untie the rope around my hands. Remembering the times when I had accidentally tangled myself in rope while attempting to construct a dock with Nat for the lake. I recall a highly annoyed Natalie showing me how to unravel myself, so I use what she told me now, making easy work with the rope. Quickly freeing my hands, I lightly rub my wrists. Picking at my hangnails seems like the only reasonable pass time at the moment. Maybe I should count the ceiling tiles.

Soon after, the same brunet boy re-enters with a file, placing it on the table before sitting back in his chair. I smile, time to put my staring contest plan into motion. I stare at him, keeping my hands behind my back and proceed to wait for him to look me in the eyes. He doesn't. Instead, he leans forward, and folds open the file in order to pull out three pictures, flipping and sliding them towards me to see.

I continue to look at him and not at the images that are practically begging for my attention. I must force myself to not look down. After a few seconds, he realizes I haven't looked at the images and looks up at me, confused.

We make eye contact and I struggle not to look away at his piercing green eyes and fluffy brown hair. He frowns slightly and leans back. I copy his stance, folding my hands over my chest, trying not to smirk.

He looks away first, one point for me. He looks me up and down as if something is wrong. I fail to hide a smirk as his eyes halt at my unbound hands and chokes on his next words, "How did you—"

"HA!" I interrupt, standing to point at him, "You do talk!" I exclaim enthusiastically.

He gets to his feet as well, grabbing the wrist that I have waving at his face and shoving it away. After realizing that he is quite a few inches taller than me, I hiss at his finger marks on my injured arm and clutch it to my chest, glaring at him through my eyelashes with furrowed brows.

I swear he looked startled for a moment before wiping the look off his face and looking away, sitting back down. He glimpses at my right shoulder for a millisecond before gazing back at my face, his face blank. I frown as I follow his line of sight, plopping down along with him. I notice a small red dot on my shoulder with my agitated skin red around it. I don't understand what happened there, but I mentally take note of it later. Facing the problem at hand, I look at the printed-out photos. I hold my breath as I try to process what it is I am seeing.