Trapped

4

f o u r

I made my way to the room where we had slept. Chris' bag was behind a chair, and I grinned to myself when I saw it. I pulled it cautiously closer to me and opened it straight away. Chris had what I'd call essentials inside. Such as hygienic items, additional clothing, socks, and protein bars. A phone was at the very bottom of his bag.

I knew he wasn't being completely honest.

I attempted identifying the phone's model while holding it in my hands. I stopped pondering and began attempting to start it. Every attempt I made was unsuccessful. Which kind of cellphone is this?

"Really?" I heard Chris say from behind me and I slowly turned around.

"You have a phone. I'm stuck in this icebox, and all this time you've had a phone, right?" I said and he just glared at me.

He snapped, "You went through my things?"

"Yes! I looked through your belongings. I sensed that you had a phone somehow. I just want to get out of here and call my parents." I replied angrily.

"Be my guest," he said, and my left eye slightly twitched.

"How do you turn it on?" I asked him and he gave me a blank stare.

"Exactly." He and I tried to stay calm.

"And what does that mean?" I asked before he snatched the phone from my hands and shoving it back to the bottom of his bag.

"It means that it isn't charged and that there isn't any call time on it." He said and let out a sigh of defeat.

I sat down on the floor, and I held my head in my hands. What was the point?

"Why would you pack a dead phone?"

"What does that matter to you?"

"I don't even know why I asked." I said looking up at him. "Why'd you follow me here?"

"I looked over and saw that you were going on the opposite direction of the bathroom."

"Hmm." I hummed, looking away from him.

"Just stay out of my things." He quietly noted and I just glared at him.

"Look, I'm sorry for going through your bag. It wasn't right but you've got to understand that I want nothing more than to get out of here." I solemnly said and he looked up at me. We had a small staring contest before I broke eye contact with him. "Isn't your family worried about you?"

"Nah they aint worried about shit. They don't stop me from coming and going as I please. Everyone wins in the end. I maintain my freedom and don't report them for the large quantity of narcotics they produce in their basement." he said, and I looked back up at him.

I didn't expect the story about him and drugs to be true in its entirety. I just gave him a look and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Is that it? You're not going to comment on that?" He questioned, and I simply shrugged. What could be said?

"What do you want me to say? I respect the hustle or some shit like that?" I asked and he looked taken back.

"No, I just thought that you'd be more curious. You've been asking a lot if anyone is worried about me. I just told you about how my foster parents get by for a living and suddenly you don't have anything to say?" he said, and I shrugged once again.

"Okay..."

"Why are you acting so weird for?" he asked, and I gave him a look of confusion.

"First you tell me that I'm talking too much, now you're upset cause I'm not talking enough. Can you pick a side?"