Sub Zero

Chapter Eight

The hooded boy hasn't said a word since he was forced in here. I'm certain that he doesn't know that I'm here. I'm pretty much holding my breath when he does the most unexpected thing possible. He starts to cry.

He can't be that bad, can he? Boys usually don't cry. There's nothing wrong with it, of course, but their egos are more important than their feelings. Uncomfortable, I move my leg. The boy stops crying. "Who's there?" He shouts through the hood, his voice husky from crying and muffled by the fabric. I hold my breath. I have to do something! He's just laying there, face first! My heart slams against my chest.

"Don't freak out." I manage to say, suprisingly calm and even. He remains quiet, waiting. I cautiously crawl over to him. "Now, hold still." I command. I grab him gently by his firm, muscular shoulders, then try my best to prop him up against the wall. He slides a little, and curses. "Shh!" I command, panicked.
"I'm trying!" He snaps.

I finally secure him. He sighs with relief. "Thanks man." He says awkwardly. I almost laugh. He thinks I'm a boy. "Uh, do you mind taking this bag off my head? It's kind of suffocating."

"Can I trust you?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "Yes! Please?" He gasps.

What could he do, being tied up like that? I hesitantly reach out and untie the knot around his neck that keeps the hood on. The strings loosen, then fall. I grab the sides of the bag, and pull up. The hood falls to the floor, and we both gasp.

He's incredibly handsome, dispite the dried blood, purple bruises, and the alarmingly crooked nose. His eyes are mesmerizing, a lovely shade of dark brown. His hair is a brilliant red, all ruffled and dirty, yet suprisingly appealing.

"You're a girl?" I roll my eyes, and to my dismay, giggle. "I'm pretty sure." I respond sarcastically. His grimy, tear-streaked cheeks grow red. He lowers his head in embarrassment. "Sorry." He mutters.
"It's okay." I say, surprised. He doesn't act like those jerks I knew from school. He's kind to me. "No, Crystal. You thought that about Torren. And look at where you are now!" That small voice in my head warns.

We sit in awkward silence for a bit. Finally, I clear my throat.
"Unfortunately, I can't untie you, if that's what you want. At least, not right now." I say, trying not to look at him directly. He nods, sighing. "I figured."  He responds honestly. I feel kind of bad, but I can't trust him.

"Can I at least know your name?" He also. I shift uncomfortably. "My name?" He clears his throat. "My mom always said that I should ask a lady her name when I speak with her for a long period of time. It's polite. And I'm pretty sure we'll be here for awhile."

I blush and bite my lip. What harm can it do?  "Crystal." I mutter. "I'm Crystal." He grins boyishly. "I'm Finn!"

Finn is bored out of his mind. One second he's humming, the next he's mumbling something to himself. We haven't talked much. I stay in my corner with my knees pulled up to my chin while he tests his balance by rocking back and forth, trying not to fall over. I giggle at this.

I look over at him. "Hey, Finn?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you do anything?"
"I'm breathing and talking, aren't I?" He says with a sarcastic grin. I shake my head. "No, not like that. Can you do anything out of the ordinary?"

He grins mischeviously, waggling his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes. "Well, ya. I wouldn't be in here if I couldn't. I'm guessing that you can too." He says.
"What exactly can you do?" I question. His grin widens. "Untie me." He says.

"Untie you? No offense Finn, but how do I know you're not a psychotic serial killer?" He chuckles at this. "Just because I'm crazily handsome does not mean that I'm psychotic. And if I was, I would have gotten you by now." He laughs, waggling his eyebrows at me. I manage a small smile.

"Okay." I sigh. I stand up and walk over to him. He leans forward as I untie the rope that's so tight around his wrists that it leaves a mark. I wince. "Sorry I didn't untie you sooner." I mutter.
"S'okay."

The rope drops to the cement floor with a loud thunk. Finn breathes a sigh of relief, and leans back again, stretching his arms out in front of him.

"So?" I ask eagerly. For a second I think that he's not going to do anything. At lasts, he swirls his index finger in an arc, looking slightly bored. It begins to glow faintly, like the hot burners on a stove. The tip of his finger erupts in a small flame, like a candle on a birthday cake.