Calamity [Zarry Stylik AU]©️

Chapter 2: MEET CALAMITY

Z,

WEEKS BEFORE.

I woke up startled. I was cold, feeling shivers run up and down my spine, my heartbeat higher than it usually was- so loud I could hear it in my ears. I was facing a white wall, laying on my side on a mattress that, by the look, smell, and feel of it, had been slept on by several other people.

As I turned on my back the overhead lights blinded me. I blinked one, two, or three times until the natural colours of my environment returned to me; my eyes travelled around, trying to make sense of the place I was in: It was a room, with no decoration aside from the mattress I was now sitting on, a toilet and a sink. There were no windows, no skylight, no nothing. There was also no indication of where I could be either.

I slowly come to my senses. My head felt a thousand times larger than it was, my throat was dry, and I was itching all over. I hoped that the mattress didn't have any fucking fleas on it.

Or I could be itching because I was hungover, and my high was over. I tried to figure out what time it was without a clock visible, but judging by my craving, it had to be morning - I could tell I could use a quick fix. I pushed the thought away despite knowing a fix would help with the inerrant anxiety growing within me. I needed to be alert.

I realised there was a door separating me from the rest of the world. I got up from the mattress, stumbling over my two feet, and palmed the door. It was metal, cold, heavy, and had no lock. I was trapped.

"Hello?" I yelled. Closing my fists, I hammered my hand on the door hard. "HELLO!"

I continued to pound against the door hard, demanding whoever was keeping me in let me out.

"HELLO!"

"SIR!" A voice boomed from the other side. I stopped immediately. A small window opened on the door, showing me a brown pair of eyes looking back at me with seriousness. "SIR, PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!"

I do as I was told, taking a few steps back. The little window closed, and I heard the door unlock with several key turns. Two men with very tight uniforms come into the room, one right after the other. Suddenly, I was aware of my size and height; I couldn't take them both.

"Put your hands on the wall. Spread your feet." The first one barked at me. He was strong, with his muscles bulging out of the black shirt and a buzz cut. The handcuffs were perfectly tucked on his belt, accompanied by a black baton; on the right side, the gun was holstered. "Sir, can you please turn, put your hands on the wall, and spread your feet."

Slowly, I do as I'm told again, walking to the furthest wall. I placed my hands above my head with the palms touching the cold wall and spreading my feet in opposite directions. My heart was beating so loud I was worried they could hear it.

"Is there anything on you that might hurt me? Knifes, needles, keys?"

My mind went blank. I looked down at my black ripped jeans, as I tried to remember if there was anything in my pockets.

Suddenly it hit me: How the fuck did I get here?

"No," I stammered a reply, trying to puzzle how the fuck was I in this situation.

"Very well." Unexpectedly, heavy hands run on my shoulders, under my arms, on my chest and stomach, with little to no kindness. Going down, they touch between my legs, running down my thighs and ending on my ankles. Then, the police officer rummaged through my pockets but didn't find a thing.

Where was my wallet? Had I been robbed?

"Clear." The officer announced. "You may turn around. Keep your hands where I can see them, please."