Dark Lights

Winter

The room was small, to put it simply. It had a miniature window set into one of four, muddy-grey, brick walls and the only furniture was an old, steel table plus the lopsided chair i was slouched uncomfortably on. B block was probably one of the oldest, ugliest and dull things in the whole facility, apart from the head of security, Mr Anderson, who, like most of the staff at the prison, happened to despised me more than anything else.

It was Thursday, and i was waiting for my routine ‘check-up', Where doctors and psychologist and people like that are supposed to examine your progress, for example, breaking from criminal habits or in my case remembering that famous stunt of mine. Anyway, it was about 2 degrees outside, and probably even colder in the dull greyness of the room. The foggy, glass door swung open stiffly on its hinges and a tall, pale man glided, almost gracefully, into the room. The figure wasn’t that of Mr Brooks, my usual supervisor, but instead a very thin man with unusually broad, square shoulders and a similarly shaped face. His hair was wiry and grey, combed back professionally.  His carefully ironed, black suit was like polished glass against its dull, dusty surroundings. His green eyes narrowed, searching every inch of me behind the lenses of his black rimmed glasses. 

 He strode over to the table and on it he dropped an unlabelled folder, exploding with papers, which landed with a thud that echoed through the eerie silence of the cell. The man sat down almost gracefully and starting skimming through the papers with pure uninterest etched into his middle aged face. 

After five minutes, the anxious waiting and silence became unbearable. I blinked slowly and tried to think of something to say but as i opened my eyes i saw that the man had stopped reading the papers and was now leaning over them with his head resting on clasped hands and his unreadable eyes locked onto my own as if an invisible piece of string had been tied between them.

"Well, Mr Blake. It would appear we have a lot of work on our hands and not a lot of time to do it in." His tone flat and slow.

There was a long silence as he sat there, frozen, like a colourless statue, eyes fixed to my own, not even blinking.

"You right?" I leant away from the awkward moment.

"Fine thank you, and yourself?" his pale lips stretching into a long thin smile. The creepiness of the situation was growing just as fast as my suspicions against the man. 

"Just great, Mr…?" I waited for his introduction.

His looked down and chuckled to himself. He looked back up, his eyes twinkling like emeralds. "Winter" he said bluntly, still with a small smirk on his worn face.

"What do you want Winter" i sneered

"Same thing you do Mr Blake" he mimicked

I said nothing.

He sighed and sat up right, his voice deep and strict "I am not here to play games with you Mr Blake" 

"Then tell me what you are here to do" i stated angrily.

"To find what you're hiding in the back of that clever little head of yours" he said loudly as he stood, hands placed firmly on the desk.

"Well if knew what is hiding back there, i would have told someone" i glared.

"Would you have" Winter said under his breath and started pacing

"Uh, yeah, i would have after what they've put me through!" i tried to stand but an usual looking pair of Black Hand cuffs kept me seated

"So why haven't you?” He spun in a millisecond to face me, frustrated and intrigued emotion seeping through onto his face.

Again i tried to stand, "I...” there was a sharp pain in my wrists and i looked down at the black handcuffs. Their dark blue insides were lined with small identical pins, less than a millimetre from my flesh. I looked back up at Mr Winter who was now smiling widely. My jaw opened, ready to let a flood of exclamations spill out but Winter, hands behind his back ceased grinning and brought a small black box to my attention. He pressed one of three buttons and the pins began to dig into my skin.