Murders Of The Past

TWENTY-ONE

"SADIE BANE. SADIE Mariet Bane. Sadie Bane— " My eyes snap open. Great. I just woke up and already I'm in a bad mood. "Sadie Mariet— "

  "Will you shut up man?" I growl. Finally, the voice shuts up. Thank god.

  "Still in a bad mood, I see," the voice observes and I roll my eyes, popping my stiff neck.

"Your eyes are gonna get stuck up there one of these days." I look forward at a white wall. Who is saying that? Where are they? Oh my gosh. Have I finally lost it?

  "Who is saying that?" I grumble, turning my head, but a wall is in my way. I push off it to look past it, but find out that I'm stuck. I look down, pulling again, but a rope is holding me to a pole. Oh no. I take a deep breath, realizing what's going on, and trying to keep my cool. If I'm going to get out of here then I need to stay calm. Don't go crazy.

  "Me." The voice grows closer, and suddenly a familiar man steps in front of me. I gasp.

  "Mop Head!" He frowns.

  "The name's Owen." This time I frown.

  "Mop Head is better." He shakes his head, turning around to walk away. "Hey, Owen."

  "There you go." He steps back into my view.

  "Care to tell me why the hell you have me tied up?" I ask, plastering a big, sarcastic smile on my face. He mocks my smile, walking towards me.

  "Sure." He brings his hand up and I flinch, but to my surprise, he grabs my nose and pinches it. "Honk." He laughs. I growl, shaking my head to get his hand off of me. "I'm going to have fun with you." He laughs, walking away.

  "You still didn't explain."

  "It's not hard to figure out, Sadie." Once he says my name, I realize, I never told him my name. That means he knows me, or knows of me. He knows more about me than that I'm the girl who put him in a chokehold at a bar. This is way deeper than just being kidnapped from some random guy. He didn't look at me and think, "Hey, she would make a fine addition to my collection." No, he knew me. He knew what he was getting into. He took me for a specific reason. What is that reason?

  "What do you want?" I narrow my eyes, watching him circle around me.

  "What do you think I want?" I roll my eyes.

  "I hate this game," I grumble.

  "You've played this game before?"

  "Oh, yeah, lots of times," I mutter. He disappears behind me again.

  "Then you should be good at this game."

  "A few hints help."

  "Alright. Here's a hint." I wait, but he doesn't say anything else.

  "What?"

  "Hang on, I'm thinking." I huff. "Ooh, here. Eight years ago. A man, Mr. Simpson." I quirk a brow.

  "Bart Simpson?"

  "No!" He whines. "Why aren't you scared?" He comes back in front of me and glares at me.

  "Why do you have me?"

  "Because you killed my dad and I want revenge!" He grumbles, stomping his foot. What is he, five?

  "Oh, I killed your dad?" I gasp.

  "Yes."

  "Oh no, I-I am so sorry. I didn't know... I didn't mean to... Owen, I am so- fucking let me go!" He stares at me for a while, blinking, speechless.

  "What's wrong with you?" He mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at his feet.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not the one who's holding someone hostage here!"

  "You asked for it!"

  "I asked for it? Did I nail a giant sign to my forehead that said, 'Will someone please kidnap me?'" I look at him. "No! I didn't!"

  "You had it coming!" He barks. "You made my life a living hell for the past eight years!"

  "Well, honey, my life has been a living hell since the day I was born."

  "That's not my fault."

  "And yours isn't my fault eith- oh wait, yes it is." I look to the side. "I don't even know who your dad is." I look back to him.

  "Simpson. Eight years ago." I shake my head.

  "You need to be more-- "

  "You killed him! He was just doing his job, and you killed him!" I shake my head confused.

  "Why would I kill a random man for no reason? I wouldn't. He must've been doing something to me."

  "He was supposed to take you out," Owen starts circling me again, like a shark- except sharks are scary.

  "So he was trying to kill me?" I clarify.

  "Yes."

  "Well, there you go. His fault. Any smart person would know not to mess with Sadie Bane." I turn my head to look at Owen but I don't see him. "Therefore, you're dad was not smart." Owen comes back around. "Now we know where you get it from," I mumble.

  "Now I have to finish his work," he explains further and I yawn. I better get comfy.

  That's pretty difficult when your wrists and ankles are tied to a pole.