Page 2 of The Harbinger

Bits of dirt and sand marred the spotless black mat below me as I placed them side-by-side, my filthy bare feet, sweaty from the lack of socks. I tucked the laces inside my shoes as the vehicle moved, my fingers shaking.

“You will not speak,” he said as I sat back up with a slight dizziness and placed my hands in my lap. “Don’t look at anyone, and keep your eyes on the ground. Understand?”

I nodded, but the more he spoke, the louder the ringing in my ears grew.

Not again.

“You’ll test it.” His voice moved through the haze, in and out, with varying high and low pitches. “Then you will return to the car. Understand?”

Nodding again, I fixed my attention on the coarse sand on the floor while caressing the scar on my wrist. The desire to pick them up one by one and throw them out the window tugged at me.

I bit my pierced lip and squeezed my eyelids shut, turning away from the compulsive temptation. Deep breaths pulled through my nostrils, along with sharp notes of cardamom and patchouli, the ringing growing louder.

White lights flashed behind my closed lids, and a piercing pain struck my temples.

My chest aches. I can’t move. He’s pinned my hands and feet. A bright light with a metal shade around it swings above my head, blinding me with each pass.

“Relax, Mia. There’s still too much of you in there.”

I pitched to the side as something slammed into my shoulder, jarring me from the darkest space in my mind.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I blinked, shaking my head to clear my vision.

“I asked you a question.”

“I wish I knew.”

My heart ached, but there wasn’t time for melancholy. Not when they drove the vehicle into a large hanger with slide doors.

The men spoke in their native tongue as I stared out the window, taking in the flying pigeons in the rafters and the convoy of vehicles parked inside.

It drowned out the need for a fix clawing down my throat.

If it weren’t for Jenny, a worn-down woman I’d met on the streets, my withdrawals would’ve been much worse. I’d laid on the ratty old bed, my body drenched and shaking, rabid dreams tore at my psyche.

She’d seen the Hell tearing at my body and offered me her last line. It was the first time I’d felt anything but blinding pain. I’d cried for what felt like hours in gratitude.

The vehicle came to a stop inside the warehouse.

Dozens of men stood around with guns. There was a folding table in the center of the room. A man stood behind it while another with graying hair stood off to the side.

Two men stepped out of a vehicle parked in front of us, identical to the one they’d thrown me in, then opened the rear door.

A man dressed in a black-on-black suit stepped out.

Where did they come from?

He was tall, his shoulders wide like he’d played sports as a kid. His blond hair trimmed with a fade. Everything about him set my compulsion at ease, only to be replaced by my stomach bottoming out with a nauseating thud.

The door to my left opened, and the odious man stepped out and walked around. Two men spoke at the table, and without turning around, the virile man snapped his fingers.

My door flew open, and the man who sat beside me not two minutes ago reached in with a menacing glare. “Remember what I said.”

His harsh fingers dug into my upper arm, and I squealed as he jerked me out of the car. My heart made a break for it as I stared at the terrifying men before me.

No one cared.

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