Saorsa

Disagreement

I groan, stretching out my achey limbs as I shift around under the comfortable covers. Wait, comfortable?

My eyes peel open, my body immediately shooting up into a sitting position as I scan my surroundings. I don't know where I am but I know that it's definitely not the hostile.

The room is painted a light sage green, a stark contrast to the peeling wallpaper at the hostel and the large window faces out towards the ocean, unlike the lovely view of the neighbouring brick wall opposite the hostel.

My admiration for the aesthetically pleasing room is diminished and replaced with pure panic as I realise that I'm in someone's house, with no recollection of the previous night's events.

I hurriedly climb out of bed, sighing in relief when I realise that my clothes remain just how I left them, except my shoes which are now neatly lined up next to the door. 

I furrow my eyebrows when my eye catches the bright white material peaking out from underneath my hoodie. I pull up my sleeve which reveals a bandage firmly wrapped around my wrist, concealing an unknown injury.

I remain confused as I look down at my slightly burnt wrist until eventually it comes back to me, the drugs, the guns, the handcuffs. 

The events of last night return one by one, eventually forming a cluster of memories that I probably would have been better off forgetting.

I feel a twinge of hatred when I mull over what happened, not at Veronica for practically feeding me to the wolves or at the men who were seconds away from killing me, but at myself.

I promised myself that I wouldn't be so gullible, deciding that every new person I meet will be met with a level of skepticism and weariness instead of blind trust.

But I didn't, I knew Veronica for all of an hour and I held faith that she wouldn't do anything to intentionally put me a danger but it turns out I'm not as good at reading people as I thought.

Never again, I say to myself.

I take a deep breath, straightening out my posture in an attempt to appear more confident as my hand rests on the door knob.

I twist it slowly, unaware of what's waiting for me.

I don't know what I was expecting, maybe an armed man ready to attack me or something else completely irrational but when I open the door I'm greeted with a normal looking hallway.

My breathing is still heavy as I creep down it, walking past the expensive look pieces of artwork adorning the walls as I approach the sound of angry back and forth arguing.

The familiar sense of nausea bubbles up in my stomach, whether it's from my illness or my anxiety I'm not sure but I push it down regardless, opening the door at the end of the hall.

There's three men, one angry looking one arguing with a much older man near the kitchen while the third is lazily sprawled out on the sofa, seemingly unbothered.

They haven't noticed the fact that I'm awkwardly standing in the doorway so I quietly shuffle along the edge of the room, hoping to get to the front door so I can make a run for it.

My actions are silent and graceful, all the experience I have from having to sneak around the house midday because James would be enraged if I woke him up during one of his naps aiding me in my escape.

Almost there, I try to motivate myself when my eyes start to blur, trying to push through the sudden wave of dizziness. 

For a second I feel as if I've lost all control of my body, my actions now slow and uncoordinated as I try to get to the door. I eventually slam my hand against the wall as I desperately try and keep myself upright, causing all heads to snap towards me.

Lucian lays across the sofa whilst tuning out me and dad as we continuing arguing about the same thing we've been arguing about for the past three hours, the unknown girl down the hall.

Lucian sent Harper and the boys to one of the extravagant hotels my family owns so we could deal with this situation without involving them.

"So I should have just killed her?" I question angrily. "Yes." He says bluntly, displaying an amount of cruelty I've never seen my dad emit before.

I look at him, the disgust evident in my expression.

"Look son, we can't trust half of the men working for us, let alone some random person you literally found with the enemy," He sighs. "You should have at least told me before you brought her here, now we'll have to kill her regardless because she knows where you live."

"She was unconscious, she didn't see where we took her so we can just blindfold her and drop her off somewhere," I reason.

"No," He shakes his head regretfully. "She could still-" He starts to begin one of his paranoid ramblings but is cut off by the sound of a thud.

We all immediately turn our heads, including Lucian who has been completely disinterest in this whole ordeal until now.

I instantly realise it's the unnamed girl, not being able to attribute that long curly hair to anybody else.

She looks over at us, her face drained of colour as her eyes shift from us to the door. 

"It's locked," I lie, knowing she's about to make a run for it. She sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping down in defeat as she fully turns to us.

She doesn't look alright, her cheeks hollow and her face appearing drained of all energy. "I want to go home," She states, trying to project a false sense of confidence.

I open my mouth, ready to offer her some semblance of comfort because the look of fear across  her face fills me with a feeling of unease that I can't quite explain.

"You're never going home," My dad replies, cutting through the silence before I can even get a word out.