Twisted

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Megan's POV

Erik paused for a second, caught off-guard by how quickly I had recognized him. I suppose when you get into a car crash and someone saves your life, you tend to remember them. He didn't reply to my question, simply continued leading me through the streets. We stopped at what appeared to be a solid brick wall. Erik held his hand over one of the bricks, and rapped his knuckles on the stone. A few seconds later, the wall swung open into a hidden room. We burst in, the concealed door swinging shut behind them.

I gasped. We were surrounded by several people who looked like they had done a great deal of crime in their life. Where in the name of coffee were we? Not that I like coffee. I had some once, as it was my last resort to staying up late to finish some stupid essay.

A  boy, I noted, sat at a computer, and he was staring at me. It was kind of stalker-ish. I looked away sharply and turned my gaze to the middle of the dark room where a rather hefty but strong looking man sat in a large chair, smoking a cigar. He flicked the ashes to the side and leaned forward in his seat. I gulped and stood pressed against Erik. At least he was a familiar face, even if he did freaking kidnap me off of the streets.

The man sitting in the chair laughed loudly. It wasn't a very nice laugh, though. He stared at me with beady brown eyes the color of mud. I shuddered and pressed my head against Erik's chest, hiding from the man like I was three years old or something. I had to get out of here. I was starting to feel claustrophobic in the damp place. It felt like a jail cell. Speaking of jail, some of these creepers should probably be in a cell of their own. They had probably killed people. People who still had had lives to live. Kids to watch grow up. Vacations to be taken. And they had had their lives taken from them, and by these monsters. I had heard of these people, tales from my father, when he was still alive.

I nuzzled farther into Erik's shirt, unshed tears starting to burn behind my eyes. He simply pulled an arm around me, and turned me to face the laughing man.

"Well, look who we've got here." I sniffed and tried to look braver than I felt. He stood up and began to circle us like hawks, all the while keeping an eye on me. The boy in the corner was still staring, probably because I looked like a mess. I could feel my matted curls, laden with moisture, dripping down my back. My jeans had tears in them from falling so many times, and my eyes were probably bloodshot. I didn't care. For all I knew, I was about to die.

"Tell me," said the man, pretending to be extremely interested in his fingernails, "why you have brought the girl?" I inwardly winced at his referring to me as "the" girl, and not "a" girl.

Erik shifted his weight, and responded cooly, "I beg your pardon, but could you please explain to me why this girl," he gestured to me, "has been shot?"

The beefy man looked up in mock surprise. "Why, I'm not sure who would have ever brought themselves to hurt a hair on her pretty little head." He patted the top of my head. I shyed away from his touch, utterly disgusted.

"That is precisely what I would like to know, sir." Erik's voice had taken on a dangerous tone, even though he spoke softly. He wrapped his arm around me again, in an almost protective manner. The unnamed man stopped circling us. He narrowed his eyes.

"Are you aware of who Ms. Megan here is?" I shivered. How did this guy know my name? My fear was beginning to be replaced by anger.

As Erik opened his mouth to reply, I burst in and said, "I'll tell you what I'm aware of! I'm painfully aware of your awful breath! Ever heard of mints, jerkwad?" He glanced at me before stalking over to my location. And he laughed. In my face. I wanted to freaking punch him so hard right then.