The Beginning

Tess

My eyes cracked open against my will. Both burned greater than a bonfire and my head throbbed. It felt as if I'd had too much to drink again. Though, my body ached, and Nicky's soft pillow-topped bed felt like concrete. I rolled over to see if Nicky had stirred, only to realize that I didn't recognize a single thing.

I pressed myself into a seat position but folded as the pounding in my head sent needles through my eyes. The floral printed rug beneath me was the only cushion between me and the cold floor. "Nicky?" I scanned the room through slits. A stained army green couch, decorated with a similar floral pattern as the rug, sat to my left. Before it, a television set that looked older than me.

I tried to rise from the hard floor. An unfamiliar clink caught my attention. My left ankle had been cuffed by thick silver metal, a chain had been soldered in an amateurish attempt, and a bulky padlock kept me captive. My heart jumped into my throat, forming a thick lump. I gagged. Head pounding, muscles aching, I found the strength to jump to my feet. They were bare against the thin carpet.

"Nic?" I breathed. My gaze ran over everything once again. Dusty pink curtains hung before small windows, high on the wall. The white ceiling was cracked and chipped. Wooden paneling decorated the walls. It was as if I'd traveled back to the early nineties.

My outfit had been changed. I—I was wearing... what was I wearing before this frilly pink mess? I looked as if I were ready to attend an early two-thousands prom. Whomever had picked it misjudged my size. The zipper on my right side only went halfway up.

"Nicky!" Panic set in. My eye caught not one or two, but five white cameras secured in the dilapidated ceiling.

Heavy footfalls banged down a set of creaky wooden steps.

My heart had already been racing. I was near a terror induced heart attack. I backed up against the nearest wall and watched as a large shadow morphed into a man.

Deep brown eyes shifted from lifeless to glittering. Thick lips turned into a smile. A calloused hand ran the length of his slicked, black hair. His other hand remained tucked in his pocket. "You're awake." His scratchy voice seemed altered in depth. It resembled Nicky's but wasn't the same. I'd had seen this man before, heard a version of that voice. He was wearing a police officer's uniform.

"Hannibal?" I questioned weakly.

"You remember." He pivoted toward me and took two long strides.

I tried to back away from him, but I was flush with the wood paneling. "What happened?"

He seemed taken aback by my unwillingness to meet him halfway. "One thing at a time, Tess Bowen." He continued toward me. This time less intent on reaching me, he meandered. "You do remember me, don't you?" He asked again.

"No." I answered honestly. Of all the parties I'd attended in high school, not one bore a memory of my own. Most stories had to be recounted the next day.

Hannibal's fists clenched at his sides. "But you remember Nicky?" His bitterness evident in each word.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Hannibal ranted on.

"Everyone remembers sweet little Nicky, don't they?" His eyes bore into mine. "Of course they do. He's a De La Cruz and they can buy the world, can't they?" He bit into his lower lip, then dragged it out pinched between sharp teeth. "I mean, look at you. Some new outfits, a car. He even let you move right in, didn't he?"

I stayed silent, knowing that I wasn't a part of the conversation.

He stared hard.

Tucking my chin, I avoided his gaze.