Black Iris

The silo

Rose

I came to with a shooting pain in my head and a metallic taste in my mouth.

Fighting to keep my eyes open, I looked up, groaning at the light shining on me, from a torch of some kind. I was on a cold concrete floor, in what seemed to be a huge concrete cylinder. Everything seemed... foggy. It was as though nothing made sense.

"Sorry," I heard a voice whisper, then the light switched off.

I blinked, groaning as I tried to sit up. "Gwen?" I asked groggily.

She made a murmur of acknowledgement.

"Where are we?" I asked, struggling to try remember what had just happened. What was going on? I remembered the library, and then the carpark...

"Hell."

"Gwen," I murmured, as the fog cleared a little and I remembered the men. She let out a sigh, then hissed in pain. "Are you okay?"

As my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, I could see her nod. "Yes. I'm fine," she said, in a voice that revealed that she was definitely not fine.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" I asked. "Has someone hit you?"

"Yes," she said bitterly. "You know full well that there's someone that has hit me many, many times."

I was quiet for a moment, feeling guilty. Guilty to have left her with him. Guilty to have asked her that question. But I didn't ask it for a sassy response.

"Gwen, please," I whispered. "Did they hit you? After I was knocked out?"

This time, it was her turn to be quiet. Finally, she spoke. "No. These injuries aren't from that."

Something clicked. "The car. I saw the video. Did you hurt yourself then?"

"I'm fine," she repeated.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

I shifted my weight, pulling myself up and looking up. The room we were in looked almost like the inside of a tower, rising high, high up before ending in a big fan that was frozen in place, with the off-pieces revealing what looked to be the night sky. I could see the stars, peeking through.

Then, I heard another voice speaking out from the darkness.

"Ophelia?"

And I realised: we weren't alone.

"Jordan," I whispered, my voice filled with fear. In my fog, I had forgotten she'd been there. And suddenly, the van, our conversation with Gareth, it all came flooding back to me. "Oh god, Jordan I'm so sorry for dragging you into this," I said.

"Hey," she said, her voice croaky and tired. "You didn't drag me into this. We were together, this time. And this wasn't your fault."

Then, her eyes shifted and she frowned, turning to look at Gwen.

"This was your fault."

Gwen shrunk against the wall. "Wait, what? How?"

"Don't play fucking dumb," Jordan hissed. "You knew him."

"Just because I knew him doesn't mean I was a part of his shitty plan," Gwen said. "I was kidnapped too, or did you not notice that?"

"Oh, I noticed," Jordan said. "I also noticed, in the van he said he came for you. If you'd never baited Ollie to the library, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"I didn't bait her there! She could have chosen not to come. You both could have. It was a choice."

"Yeah, just like how being in your little PR piece interview was a choice too, huh?"