A L E X A N D E R
I'd never seen a bar be this still before, no movement on the inside or any on the outside. It looked abandoned with obvious warnings and different languages of profanity spray painted all over the naked exterior.
Everything was quiet, until Syx pulled me out of the SUV with my hands tied in front of me and words escaping his mouth like a leaking faucet. Just two hours ago, I'd finally been released from the place I spent two long years of my life inhabiting, after building enough respect to be at the top of the 'Not to be Fucked with ladder', I was grateful to leave the ugly orange jumpsuit and handcuffs and took in the fact that no one got there hands on the two cell phones I had on my person at the time of my arrest.
This country's system is a joke.
"I feel like I was talking to myself the entire time, Alexander." Syx said, guiding me wherever the hell we were going.
"You were." I answered, taking in the sudden change of surroundings. We walked through the doors of the bar and just like I noticed a moment before, it was empty, no one was in sight, what I didn't expect was the beauty of the interior. Everything was clean and modern looking, and nothing felt out of place but I knew better than that.
I was taught better than that.
I wasn't able to look around more as we walked deeper through the bar. The back of it was dimly lit and there was a wooden door with stained glass through its centre covered up by a beaded curtain.
Syx knocked three times before he pulled me inside and shoved me in a chair in front of a large desk. I felt like a kid being sent to the principal's office. It was useless to ask the man I was sadly related to due to matching blood donors why I was here because in the car I tried and he just continued to shut me down everytime.
"You can talk to me, you know that right?" Syx told me and I just turned my attention down to my bound hands, the rope seemed like an upgrade to the cuffs that had already bruised my wrists.
"I'd rather talk to the walls at least they wouldn't abandon me and give me actual answers." I scoffed and he groaned beside me, tired of my constant reminder of his jackassery.
"Are you ever going to let that go? How long do you honestly think you can hold it against me?"
"How long do you plan on living?" I shot back, a bit immature on my part but I refuse to ever let him live that down. He wasn't suffering like I was, he was able to build a sort of respectable life while I ran around from shelter to shelter looking for him. I got kidnapped, chained to hot poles, forced to work in one of the most dangerous sweatshops around and forced to do things that no child on this fucked up earth should do.
It's amazing how I could even sit next to him without the thought of killing him running through me constantly since he visited me in the prison, because I knew that even if he was dead I'd somewhat miss his presence. I blame that feeling on what everyone likes to call their inner child. Although I always felt like I never had one because I never had a chance to just be a child.
"Why am I here?" I asked again, lifting my head and turning it to his direction even if he didn't answer. I was just going to piece this whole thing together on my own.
Somehow.
"Someone important wants to meet you. Does that answer your question?" He rolled his eyes, pulling his buzzing phone from his pocket. He was now focused on whatever messages were rolling through and my eyes darted away from him and studied the room.
It was an office, a poorly decorated one which lacked personality. I was searching for some sort of clue about who this 'important person' could've been, but nothing stood out to me.
