Chemicals

2

I don't hear the water anymore. The only sound I can hear is a small weeps this whole damn journey. It's been 4 hours and I can't stand this, I don't even understand what the fuck is going on.

I push myself up from the cold, hard ground, wincing as my back protests and a sharp crack echoes from my spine. Every muscle feels tight, a reminder of the tension in the air. I take a few hesitant steps toward the boy who drove the car earlier, my heart racing with urgency. "What the hell is going on? Why are we here?" I shout, my voice trembling with anxiety rather than anger.

He stands up, and I immediately realize just how much taller he is—easily six feet. I'm only 5'5", and in this moment, that height difference feels significant. It doesn't intimidate me, but it adds an unspoken weight to our interaction. I meet his gaze, my pulse quickening, desperate for answers in this chaotic situation.

"What do you expect me to say? I'm just as confused as you are," he replies, his voice deep and steady, resonating with the calm intensity of his dark blue eyes. There's a certainty in his tone that suggests he's trying to assert control, even amid the chaos surrounding us.

"Then how did you bring us here? And why did you?" I ask, concern creeping into my voice. The uncertainty gnaws at me, and I need to understand what has happened.

He narrows his eyes, frustration flickering across his face. "My dad used to drive a lot for work. I know this place better than anyone. Plus, I brought you here because I can," he explains, his voice deepening further, and the last part of his statement comes out with a sharp edge, hinting at irritation. It's clear he feels a mix of emotions, and while I'm searching for clarity, he seems overwhelmed by his own feelings.

"Well, I don't care if you can! Why did you bring me? Why didn't you take anyone else? I just wanted to die there!" I shout, my voice rising with each word, fueled by frustration and fear. The heat of my anger pulses through me, pushing me to confront him.

"I don't know, okay? I could've just left you there!" he snaps back, his expression shifting from irritation to something more complex. "At least be grateful that I saved your life! So stop shouting and let's just think of a plan!" His voice echoes in the cramped space, filled with urgency and barely concealed frustration.

His words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I'm taken aback. The tension crackles between us, and I can see the conflict in his eyes—anger mixed with the weight of responsibility. It's as if we're both caught in this storm of emotions, struggling to navigate our way through the chaos around us.

I scoff, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, and mutter something under my breath—too quiet to grasp, even by my own ears. My face burns with anger, hot enough to feel as if it might ignite. I can't even hear what I've said; the heat consumes me. I drop my head into my hands, curling into myself as I sink back down, my knees drawn tightly to my chest.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching, the soft sound slicing through the tension. It's the older guy. "Hey..." he says gently, his tone a soothing contrast to the chaos that envelops us.

"Hi..." I reply, lifting my head to meet his gaze, a frown still etched on my face.

"I saw what happened back there, and I agree that we don't have a plan. I know you're scared—we all are," he says, his voice steady and calm. "But if we want to get out of this mess, we have to work together. That includes no fighting."

I nod, though uncertainty lingers in my mind. "I know... It's just that I don't know how to get along with everyone. It seems like the boy over there already hates me."

"Well, I believe he doesn't actually hate you. He wants to find a way to get along and figure out a plan to stop whatever is happening," he reassures me, his eyes steady and sincere as they bore into mine.