Page 4 of Wraith

Chapter Three

It’s cold down here.The man in the suit brought me to a dark place where I couldn’t see and made me stay inside the cold room. I only have my jammies to keep me warm, but it doesn’t help. Lying curled up on the floor and staring at the wall, I drag my finger along a small crack. I can see through it, finding a wall like mine on the other side. “Is someone there?” a soft feminine voice squeaks, the question drifting through the tiny hole.

“Keep quiet. They don’t like noise,” I tell her, moving closer. A green eye with strands of hair draped over it greets me on the other side.

“Where are we?”

“The basement,” I say, not knowing another name for it. “That’s what the guards call it.”

“How old are you?” she asks, but I have no idea.

“When I was brought here, I was four.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know.” If I had to guess maybe its been three years, but I don’t tell her that.

“I’m ten. My name is—”

“Shut the fuck up!” A hard hand comes down onto the door of her cell, then pounds on mine.

“We can’t talk,” I whisper, hoping she’ll listen. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Or me.

* * *

“Makeone mark on the floor or wall to keep track of every time they bring you food. I’m guessing that’s a new day, since I am starving by the time the next one comes. It’s been—” she pauses for a minute, “one month…” she trails off, as if she can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“How do you make the marks? Make sure they don’t see them,” I warn. If any of the guards see them, they will hurt her.

“My fingernail. I painted a layer of mud I made from my spit and the dirt on the floor where I lay down.”

“That’s cool.” I find myself smiling at her creativity. “Maybe I’ll do it too,” I say, though I know I won’t. I’m too scared to get caught. The thick scraping of the lock on my door sounds as a guard comes in to drop off my food for the day. A piece of bread and cup of water. I eagerly drink down the water while noticing there are two slices of bread instead of the normal one. My eyes widen and look over to the guard who gives me a smile.

“Eat up, pet. Be good, and maybe there will be more tomorrow,” he promises, then leaves after taking my empty cup. I rush back to my spot on the floor and wait, listening to the other side while nibbling on the bread. She isn’t by the hole, and I can’t hear anything—not until a small whimper barely registers. Is she crying? I press my ear against the wall, taking in more sounds I can’t place. “Dimitri, get the fuck out here, asshole. You know you aren’t supposed to be doing that shit!” someone hollers from outside the rooms before banging on the door next to mine. “Get the fuck out before I call the boss!”

“Yeah, fuck off, Sebastian!” The man’s voice sounds like it’s right in my ear. He’s in there with her. The door opens and shuts, then there’s nothing but quiet for too long.

“Are you in there?” I call out, uncaring that the guards might hear me. “Hey!” Nothing. My heart sinks in my chest. He probably hurt her, but the fact that she might be dead like the last girl who was in that room hits harder. That girl never talked to me, but every night until she was gone, I heard her crying.

It isn’t until the next time food is brought that I hear her voice again. This time, much smaller. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not as bad as he could have,” she says with a sniffle. “Promise me something?”

“Yeah. Anything.” I find myself saying even through the ability to keep a promise in a place like this is next to impossible, but the determination in her voice has me agreeing.

She pauses for only a moment, her voice growing more angry with each word. “If you ever get out of here, make sure this place is destroyed.”

“I promise.”

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