On The Other Side

Chapter 8 - Betrayal

GEORGE
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As we climb the stairs, we reach the space under the bridge within a minute. Even in broad daylight, it feels dark and scary here, making us both nervous.

The atmosphere is eerily quiet, with only the sound of passing cars above us. The place appears abandoned, overrun with vines, and a disturbing scent. It smells like a combination of gasoline and dead animals. The environment feels lonely and unwelcoming, intensifying our unease as we navigate through this place.

I turn towards Clay. He's looking around, gripping the straps of his backpack, and his teeth are buried in his lower lip, nervously biting on it.

"What now?" I ask in a hushed tone, and Clay shakes his head in response. He puts his index finger to his lips, signaling for me to remain quiet. The need for silence adds to the tension in the air, and I nod in understanding. With our senses on high alert, we await the next move.

As we turn around, the sound of approaching footsteps catches our attention. My heart sinks as I see a group of about a dozen men walking towards us. Their harsh and intimidating posture sends a chill down my spine. The seriousness in their expressions and their overall appearance make it clear that they are not to be taken lightly.

As I glance at Clay, I notice him backing up slightly, making sure he's closer to me. My heart pounds loudly in my chest, feeling scared and vulnerable. Some of them have guns in their hands. The leader has a creepy grin on his face, making the situation even more frightening. We don't have any weapons to defend ourselves, which adds to our sense of helplessness and fear in this threatening situation.

What were we thinking going into this unarmed?

As the men reach us, an eerie silence envelops the air. They surround us, leaving no escape route and intensifying our fear. I can feel Clay's fear intertwining with my own. The heavy weight of worry settles over us, and the chilling silence makes the situation more terrifying. In that moment, I realize that this is the most scared I've ever been in my life.

"You look exactly like your father." The leader's words break the silence, sending a shiver down my spine. He approaches Clay and cups his face with one hand, examining him with a disgusting grin. The intimate gesture from the leader feels invasive and threatening

He is a little shorter than Clay, but his threatening presence towers over us. His eyes are as dark as the abyss, covering any hint of empathy or remorse. His black hair and beard exude an air of darkness, adding to the aura of hatred that surrounds him. A scar slices across his left cheek, and a sliced eyebrow gives him an even more intimidating appearance.

The combination of his scary features and the malicious grin etched on his face engraves a deep sense of dread within us. In his presence, I feel like a puppet, vulnerable to his every whim.

As I gaze at Clay and the leader, fear grips me, preventing me from looking at anyone else in the group. The intensity of their collective gazes feels suffocating, as if every eye is fixed on us, observing our every move.

Clay nods and gulps before speaking. "Clay," he says and spreads out his palm.

The leader's smirk widens further as he glances down at Clay's hand. For a moment, it seems as though he might ignore the gesture, but after a brief pause, he reaches out and shakes Clay's hand. I can feel Clay's relief mixed with anxiety.

As I watch closely, I notice Clay's fingers turning white due to the intense grip the man has on his arm.

"Pablo," he says and releases Clay's hand.

I glance at Clay again and he's rubbing his palm with his other hand, attempting to alleviate the lingering pain from the intense grip.

Suddenly, I find Pablo standing right in front of me, his unsettling grin fixed in place as he examines me from head to toe. My heart skips a beat, and a shiver runs down my spine in response to his daunting presence. His closeness feels invasive, and I feel a surge of discomfort under his stabbing gaze. It's as if he's trying to make me feel exposed and vulnerable.

I mirror Clay's action, extending my hand with a shaky breath, and introduce myself "George."

Without hesitation, Pablo takes my hand and shakes it with a firm grip that causes pain. I do my best to mask any signs of discomfort, trying to remain composed. His tight squeeze is a scary reminder of his strength.

The pressure of Pablo's grip feels unbearable, causing my hand to throb with pain. I feel weak under his touch.

"Pablo," he murmurs but doesn't let go of my hand. His breath reeks of whiskey and cigarettes. "You can call me Lo," he adds before finally releasing my hand.

Before taking a step back away from me, he looks into my eyes and the grin now turns into a big smile. The way he looks at me sends shivers down my spine, leaving me feeling objectified. He's looking at me like he would look at a stripper. Like he wants to fuck me.

"I like you." His words only add to the discomfort, and I nod nervously, unable to meet his gaze any longer. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, trying to suppress the overwhelming disgust and fear welling up within me

As I glance at Clay, I can sense his anger boiling beneath the surface. The pain in my hand is dulled by the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

As Pablo walks back up to Clay, I quickly take a look at our surroundings, my senses on high alert. My heart races as I count the men, including Pablo, and realize there are ten of them in total. My gaze darts from one man to another, observing their behavior.

I look back at Pablo and he's looking at Clay like he wants him dead. I didn't like how he looked at me, but how he's looking at Clay, makes me want to choke him until he begs for air.

My eyes remain fixed on Pablo as he gestures towards the backpack. Fear grips my entire being as Clay takes off the backpack and hands it over to him. I grip onto the hope that this exchange will go smoothly.

Pablo grabs it, looking between Clay and the backpack. As he starts unzipping it, he looks at me with the same disgusting grin he looked at me with earlier.

As he unzips the backpack and peers inside. His eyebrows raise, and his eyes widen in surprise. He glances back at Clay and nods approvingly. "That's some good shit," he says, his tone laced with pleasure.

It's scary how he can see if the stuff is good or not just by looking at it.

Clay nods, trying to sound strong, but his voice trembles slightly as he says, "Just like I promised."

A man standing behind Pablo steps forward and takes the backpack from Clay. Pablo chuckles at Clay, briefly glancing at his shoes before nodding with a sly grin, licking his teeth.

Clay's hands clench into fists, realizing that getting his payment won't be as straightforward as he hoped. I quickly scan the area, searching for the promised suitcase filled with money, but no one seems to have it.

My heart drops.

I struggle to breathe properly. Each breath feels empty, leaving me feeling suffocated.

Clay and Pablo are just standing there looking at each other.

I shout out in alarm, "Clay!" as I notice the man behind him raise his gun swiftly. Before I can react, the man hits Clay's head with the back of the gun, and I feel a surge of fear and helplessness.

As blood pours down the back of Clay's head, my heart sinks with a mix of fear and terror. The sight of him unconscious and lying on the ground leaves me feeling weak. Tears well up in my eyes as the gravity of the situation sinks in. I can only hope that he is still alive, but the fear that he might not be lingers in every corner of my mind.

As I move to rush toward Clay, I feel hands gripping my shoulders, and before I can react or turn around, a bag is forcefully pulled over my face. In an instant, everything turns dark and muffled, the voices around me fading away along with the faint specks of light coming through the rips in the bag.

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