Sustainable

Chapter Three

"So, where would you like to go first?" Elliot smiled at me, his brown eyes twinkling. I found myself oddly comfortable with him, until I remembered he helped kidnap me. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled. He leaned on the wall, crossing his arms. "I want some answers. I want my brother." His smile faltered slightly, and his arms dropped. "Tell you what. I give you the tour, you meet a couple of people, and then you can ask your questions. I think there's someone else who can answer them better."

I pouted, hoping he'd let slip some more information. He smiled expectantly, and I sighed. Damn. I couldn't play tough even in a scenario like this.  "Fine. But I want my bag."

Elliot smiled, glad he'd apparently won me over, and produced my familiar scruffy rucksack from the closet behind him, and I took it gratefully. I rummaged through the never-ending load of rubbish that normally inhabited the sorry excuse for a bag. Eventually, I pulled out a small bottle, placing it in my pocket. His eyebrow raised in a questioning expression, and I replied simply. "Mace."

He laughed, and I stared hard at him, a small smile breaking across my face. It seemed a little silly pulling out the offending liquid when I'd already been abducted. Nevertheless, I felt better with it.

He led me down a dark corridor which led to a long series of stairs. We walked down them for about ten minutes, and I realised that we must be underground by now. We walked in silence most of the way, and Elliot cleared his throat. "Just a question, how did you get mace? I thought it was pretty much illegal now." He smiled at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. "My dad's a cop. Well, he used to be, anyway. We moved from Washington to New York a few months back, 'cause he got promoted. But he was shot in the spine and leg two months ago, so he's been in physical rehabilitation." I frowned at the memory, remembering looking after my stepmother that night.

"I'm sorry. But he's okay now?" Elliot also frowned, and my heart went out to him. I smiled weakly as we walked, and nodded. "Yeah. Most of the time. He's on antidepressants now, because he found it really hard to cope - not being able to work. But I'm used to it; he was the same when my mom died."

I stopped, realizing that I was spilling everything out to a complete stranger. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and nodded. I smiled, silently thanking him for caring. His brown eyes were sad and faraway, and he said in a low voice, "I know how you feel. My dad left when he found out my mother was pregnant, and she died when I was nine." I gasped, and copied his gesture to me. "I'm sorry." I said quietly, and he smiled.

We continued to walk in silence, both of us needing time to think. We approached a door, and pushed it slowly, causing it to creak loudly.

"You ready?" he asked, and I gulped, nodding nervously. Stepping through the door, I braced myself.

I stepped into the large room, my eyes widening as I struggled to take in all the information. The ceiling was high and majestic, with dark wooden beams and panels overlapping each other in a beautiful network of crosses above me. My mouth hung open  in disbelief at the mass of books covering countless shelves. Novels and encyclopaedias adorned the walls, and I yearned to reach out and touch the aged pages. Ladders leaned against the walls haphazardly, scattered randomly around the walls. It took me a few moments of my mouth hanging open to realise that we weren't alone.

"Hello, Miss Clarke. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."