Kinda Normal, Kinda Not (On Hold for Rewriting)

Chapter Two: Escape

    My desk was a mess. Papers were scattered all over it, open textbooks here and there, and things like folders and binders were everywhere around it. This was what my mother and I called a "lesson." She was currently trying to teach me World History. 

      "No, it wasn't there, the revolt took place in-" 

       Thud.

     My mother froze. I went still, too. Thud. I stifled a scream. Somebody was climbing up the stairs. Thud. And we were the only ones living here. 

      "Phoebe," my mother said lowly, "walk to the closet and you'll know what to do."

      Slowly, I got up and walked quietly to my walk-in closet. I saw a silver latch, locking a little trap door that I haven't noticed until now. I crouched and opened it up, shocked to see a ladder. Then I remember a funny-looking area in my house, how the space looked like it was for a tiny closet, except that it had no door. I realized that that must be for this ladder.

     I hesitantly lower myself down. Step by step, I go down the ladder until my whole body is under the door. I try not to slam it, or the latch will lock. I take a quick look down, and I'm surprised to see light. The light gets brighter as I get closer.

     Just as my feet touch the ground, I hear a crash coming from up above. My mother wasn't down yet! I ran forward to go back up the ladder when a solid wall forms in my path. I hit the wall, yelling for my mom. The wall was cold, wet and clear. I quickly identify it as ice, and back up. Ice, I think in disbelief. Ice just appeared out of nowhere, blocking me. Blocking me from helping my mom. 

     I give the wall one last kick, knowing that it wouldn't work.

     "Mom," I whispered. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt a couple of tears fall onto my hands. I stare at the cold drops of water. I'm so focused on the tears that I don't notice the tapping of a small creature walking. 

     Something taps me on my bare leg. I look down to see a cat in the dim light. I've never seen one in real life, but I have read and seen pictures of kittens. They're adorable.

     "What are you doing here, little guy?" I bend down and ask. I hold a hand out and the cat licks my fingers. I can't help but giggle because the cat's tongue felt like sandpaper. I notice that the cat's eyes are different colors. It was too dark to tell which colors, but I could definitely tell that they were different. The cat, an unidentified color, mews at me and started to leave. 

      "Wait!" I call out, not wanting the cat to leave. It looked back at me once and continued on. I stood up and walked ran after it. The cat keeps on dashing away, ignoring my calls of 'Wait!' or 'Stop!' I don't know why I didn't just stop my pursuit. 

      Finally, after what seemed like forever, it stopped. I lean against a wall, panting. I've never had to run this much, living indoors all my life. Sure, my mother made me do some exercise from time to time, but this was nonstop running. I watch the cat from the corner of my eye. It didn't even look tired.   The cat sat there, waiting. Waiting for what? Me?

     "Y-you, " I breathed out. "Why.. Why w-were.. you... running?"

     The cat just stares at me. As if it would actually reply, I thought, finally catching my breath. That's when I noticed the door. Behind the cat, there was a simple metal door. I carefully approached it. There was nothing on the door. No writing, no marks, not even any handle. I briefly wondered what was the point of a door with no handle before the door swung open by itself. The cat trots in, unafraid. I push it open the rest of the way with my foot. 

      I don't know what I was expecting, really. Somebody to come swinging at me with a metal pipe? A dart to shoot out and knock me unconscious? I'm not sure. I sure didn't expect some grand-looking room, though. First, I noticed a man sitting at a huge desk in the middle of the room. He was in his mid-forties, slightly balding and dressed in a white suit. Next my attention goes to my surroundings. All the furniture seemed really expensive, gold engravings on everything that was wooden. There were a lot of bookshelves along the perimeter of the room, all filled. To top it off, there was a painting of the man on the wall directly behind him. I guess this man is important.

     "Phoebe," he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. "We've been expecting you."

*****

Edit: Same with the last chapter! Future chapters won't make sense unless I've rewritten them. ;D 

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please Comment, If I could make it better, I would like to hear from you guys!