Page 32

Story: Black Shadows

His black hair is slicked back as he takes a sip of what looks like a bottle of water, his eyes never leaving mine. His arms are covered in tattoos under his black T-shirt. I watch his throat bob as he drinks, and I can feel myself heat up.
“Oh, he is insanely hot.” Ronnie’s voice breaks my staring contest with blue eyes. I turn my head toward her, and she smiles, looking at him. “Keep drinking, Mr. Sex on a Stick, you will need to stay hydrated for what Raelyn’s gonna do to you.” I let out a gasp as my mouth drops open, and she laughs. “I’m kidding.”
With my eyes wide, I shake my head. “Please don’t kid about that.”
She sighs and frowns, “You’re right. I shouldn’t. I know what you went through was something no one ever should. I didn’t think before I opened my mouth. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I glance back down at my drink before looking back up at the blue-eyed mystery man. Except when I do, he’s no longer sitting there. My eyes dart all around the bar, except I don’t see him anymore. And a part of me is disappointed.
But I shake it off.
“Um, I need to pee. I’ll be right back.” I cautiously get up from the table and push through the crowd, weaving myself around the groups of people standing around. My senses are on high alert, but it’s a bathroom at a bar. This is something I should be able to do without a chaperone.
A little bit of normal in my chaotic life. A bathroom break.
When I make it back to the women’s room, I push through the black worn door and enter the brightly lit restroom. It’s small and cramped but surprisingly clean. I have been to quite a fewbathrooms in the downtown area and a lot of them make you feel like you need a shower and a bleach spray down.
But beggars can’t be choosers, so I have to deal with what I have. Besides, it’s better than the conditions I had back at my kidnapper’s house.
I head into an empty stall and quickly do my business. The music from outside the bathroom is muffled, but I can hear the song playing. As I walk over to the sink and a familiar song comes on, my heart feels like it’s frozen in my chest.
Ugh, why do they keep playing this song? Over and over and over. It’s so loud. And don’t get me wrong, this is, well was, a great song, Renegade by Styx is a classic.
But I’m ready to rip my ears from my head. I lie on the cold floor, my body sore and stiff from the lack of movement. Yanking on my chains, the metal clanks along the floor. It doesn’t have much give, but it provides a temporary relief from the soreness.
“Turn it off!” I yell, my voice hoarse. Not that anyone can hear me, not that anyone cares. I can barely see in front of me through the darkness. “Make it stop! Please!”
The song finally fades. Before it starts up again, I hear whimpers and sobbing around me. I know I’m not alone, but I haven’t been able to talk to anyone since they started the music. Like they are purposely keeping us from each other.
“No more, no more,” a soft voice pleads.
“Hello?” I call out into the dark.
But before the voice can answer, the music starts up again.
“No! No! Stop!”
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” A woman’s voice shakes me from my thoughts.
I look at the blonde in front of me, her eyes laced with concern. I try to respond, but I’m still frozen from the memory of whatever that place was, so I don’t respond. Instead, I turn andrun out of the bathroom back to the table. I need to find Ronnie, tell her I had another moment, as we call them.
Ronnie isn’t there. Our drinks are still on the table, so I knock it back, trying to get rid of the dry feeling. I cringe as the alcohol hits my tongue, sending shivers down my spine. I shake my head, trying to fight the strong taste of the liquor.
Placing the glass back down on the table, my next mission is to find Ronnie, who seems to have wandered off. And I’m beyond a little upset that she did.
She was supposed to wait here.
My eyes scan the crowd, but I don’t see her. I look up over at the bar, thinking maybe she went up there to get someone to buy us more drinks, but she’s nowhere in sight.
I can feel panic start to bubble inside me. My hands wring together, as I shift from foot to foot. The drink starts to hit me, and a warmth comes over me.
Downing that drink was not a good idea.
My anxiety, which was ramped up a minute ago, is now slowly starting to subside. I make my way toward the other side of the bar, hoping I see her.
“Hey there, hot stuff. How about I get you a drink?”
I look up at the gruff-looking guy who moved into my path. I want to respond, but I am starting to struggle with that. The world around me feels like it’s moving slowly yet faster than I can process.