A Burning Heart

Chapter Two

"You have blood on your knees, nobody goes nowhere and gets blood on their knees." Even though it was dark, I could still see the boys face clearly. He was annoyed, but he didn't have any proof against me.

"And what do you have that proves I escaped? And even I did somehow get out, do you really think that I would come back to this cell?" I had to project my voice as loud as I could, so he could still hear my mocking tone of voice through the glass panel.

"You're exceedingly difficult you know."

He uncrossed his arms and walked over to the swivel chair and desk across my cell. He clicked a few buttons on screen and opened a blank document.

"When do I get to leeeaaave~" I whined at the top of my lungs, hoping to get out of this god forsaken place.

"I don't know." He spoke loudly, and ceased his frantic typing.

"But..." He turned around in his chair with a clipboard and a pen.

"I need to ask you a few questions." He looked at me through the glass and ran a hand through his messy black hair.

"Okay, shoot." I stood up and sat in front of the glass, resting my wings the bed behind me.

I need to fly soon.

"What is your full name and date of birth?" He looked back down to the clipboard and clicked the end of his pen.

"So is this like an interview?" I was stalling.

"Just answer the question, Demon." He glared at me and grit his teeth together.

"Ohhhhh name calling, so fearsome." Maybe sarcasm would buy me more time.

"Just answer, please." He looked into the cell and sighed, loudly.

Shit...

"Akane Takumi."

   He jotted some notes down on the paper, stopped, and put the end of the pen on his lip.

"Date of birth." He mumbled whilst still looking at the paper.

I sighed.

"I don't know." His eyes went wide and looked up at me.

"What?" He had put his pen down and was speaking directly at me. I looked down to the cement floor and tried to regain my composure.

"I just don't know...." I was talking more to the floor and myself rather than him, I pulled my wings in closer to my body and put my arms around my knees. I heard his pen click again the faint scribble of writing. I turned my gaze back to the boy.

"Do you know how old you are?" He was speaking with more emotion, either he was excited to be getting answers from me, or felt bad for me.

My money's on the first one

"I'm somewhere around four-hundred, I don't know, I stopped counting after the first hundred years." I had regained my sarcastic facade and was ready for any more questions he'd throw at me. 

"What?!" He had the tip of his pen barely touching the paper, and his eyes were wide, again.

"Is 'what' all you know how to say?" I stood up and walked to the edge of the glass I locked my hard grey eyes with his softer, brown ones.

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"I can't do it!"

"Xavier please-"