Year 18

-Chapter 14-

I don't know how or when I fell asleep, but I know that it wasn't that long ago, and more importantly, I know what woke me.

A loud banging on the door downstairs pulls me toward the door of the room I'm staying in. If I had to guess, the room once belonged to Mr. Jaccobs' daughter or grand-daughter. Dust covers the dressers littered with dolls and pictures of a younger Oliver Jaccobs with a woman and small girl. The room is a sickeningly bright shade of pink, the bed covered in a bunch of frilly blankets and well-loved stuffed animals.

I open the door to my room just as Mr. Jaccobs stumbles into the hall, cussing as he heads toward the stairs. "Who in their right mind is here at three in the morning? Better be something important," he grumbles.

I wait at the top of the stairs as he opens the front door of his house, a series of beeps resounding throughout the structure. He curses again before putting a code in beside the door frame, quieting the foyer again.

"Can I help you?" he asks, though I can't tell from here who's on the other side of the door.

"Oliver Jaccobs?"

The old man nods, looking put out.

"My name is Charlie Wong." My heart stalls, and I work my way down the stairs. "The Leader has sent me to discuss something with Felisha Martins. Is she available?"

"What else would I be?"

Charlie's eyes grow wide when he sees me. He hands the man a tablet with a document pulled up on it, and Mr. Jaccobs just shrugs, motioning toward me. "If the Leader asked, she's all yours. Just do be sure to bring her back. I paid for her after all. That's what I get for drinking at one of those Social Gatherings."

"Felisha Martins," Charlie's voice sounds so formal, "please come with me. The Leader has some things he'd like you to know in regard to your upcoming..."

"Death? Murder?" I roll my eyes. "Oh, are those too blunt?"

Charlie's Adam's apple bobs, his lips pressing into a tight line.

"Please," this is softer, not so authoritative, "come with me."

Mr. Jaccobs looks at Charlie, then at me as though he's giving me the choice of whether to go or to stay. As finite as my desire is to go with Charlie to discuss what's ahead of me, my desire to stay here with this man is even slimmer.

Slipping past Mr. Jacobs, I wander over to Charlie. A look of relief peppers his face that I've accepted his offer. I don't look at him for very long, just enough to see the way his face softens and how his eyes regain a bit of life.

Charlie opens the door for me, thanking Mr. Jaccobs on behalf of the Leader. "I'll have her back as soon as the Leader has had a chance to speak to her."

Mr. Jaccobs shrugs, with a mumbled, "give the Leader my regards."

"Will do sir," Charlie nods, leading me out into the cool morning air. I look up at the starry sky, wanting nothing more than for the sun to come up and erase all that's taken place tonight. But I can't erase it so much as cover it up. Wishful thinking; something I can't afford now; something I've never been able to afford.

"Are you going to look at me?"

I keep my eyes adhered to the gravel in front of me. I can't help but be angry. Charlie's known about the Leader's plans and yet he's allowed me to stay in that cell, rotting away, a game piece to the other inmates. Sure he may not have known the Leader's exact intent, but there should have never been any doubt he was planning to kill me. Charlie had to be aware of that. In what world am I expected to meet his actions with warmth?