The Thirteenth

~Chapter Eleven~

A/N: I can't believe I've completed ten chapters of this story! All thanks to you guys! :* :*

The Thirteenth

 

Chapter Eleven

 

I took one step forward and my slight movement made him aware of my presence. He froze when he saw me standing awkwardly in the corner, with fidgeting fingers. His eyes widened and I probably looked like a deer caught in the middle of the highway. Strictly, avoiding his gaze, I started walking. I felt dizzier when I continued to march down the passage. I came to a stop in front of the counter and found no employee. There went my plan of eating something down the drain.

I turned slowly and saw Mr. Wilson blocking my path. "What are you doing here?"

"Duh, buying popcorn," I said turning around. No one was there behind the counter. "Why is no one here?" I questioned more to myself.

"Get back inside,"

"No, I want popcorn!" I said, determined. I was feeling as weak as possible right now and my sole aim was to get some food into that empty stomach of mine before I dropped dead on the floor.

"You can get your frigging popcorn during the intermission,"

"I said, I want it now," I stressed each word out. He was testing my patience. Wow, look how the tables turned. Usually it was me annoying him. Well, annoying wouldn't be the word I'd use, but he definitely would.

"Why don't you listen to me? Ever?"  He shot angrily.

"I'm hungry! Alright?" I waved my hands over me, "Really hungry...as in I'm-gonna-drop-dead hungry! Get it? You're not the boss of me!" I snarled at him. He didn't care. He continued to give me the same glare.

At that precise moment I heard a muffled scream, almost strained. I looked past Mr. Wilson's shoulder, pushing him aside from blocking my path. The sound arose from the passage the unknown man had previously walked into. I ran past him before he could stop me. When I reached the turning, I stilled.

Tanya had the old man in a headlock with him struggling to release himself from the death grip. She took out a napkin and stuffed it into his mouth and the very next second she took out an injection out of the back pocket of her denims. She seemed to be having a hard time too, keeping the man in that hold any longer.

Was she going to sedate him with some drug? Kill him? I wanted to shout and let the people in the lobby –if there were any in the first place –know about this. But before I could even open my mouth, a large hand covered it and my voice died in my throat. The other hand took both of my wrists and locked them together behind my back. They pulled me into the corner near a trashcan, with me facing the wall. I felt like a murderer caught by the cops.

The hands definitely belonged to a man's – Mr. Wilson's, to be precise. I recognized it from a worn-out silver ring he wore in his middle finger. I tussled under his tight grip. I tried kicking his leg, but I nearly slipped and the attempt to release myself only lead him to tighten his already death-like hold.

"Stop struggling," he hissed.

"Let me go," I replied, breathing against his warm hands.

Instead of letting me go, he hauled me just like a bag of trash towards the restroom. My attempts to free myself were nothing, but futile. So, I gave in to him and trudged along with him to the restroom. He kicked open the door and pushed me in, finally letting go of me. I breathed heavily and held on to the wash counter for support.