Stuck

Chapter 4

A hand is clamped tightly over my mouth to stifle the screams. Because of my arms whipping out and legs flailing, the person keeping me silent has to let me go. I have the sense to stay quiet though, I don't want to attract the owner of the voice, whose owner is most likely that woman. The person sitting in the sagging red armchair is looking me up and down, sizing me up. It's a girl, 17 I'd say, with messy dark brown hair tied up in a loose bun. Her features are sharp, and her eyes a striking blue. She pushes herself up and walks over to me, her lips pursed. I stand still, following her with my eyes. Her long, slim legs are clothed in tight black leggings and on her feet are brown leather sneakers. The white t-shirt she is wearing has the words "Je t'aime" printed across it. She nods at me, granting me permission to speak. 

"Who are you?" I splutter out. She pauses for a moment, looks me straight in the eye and says:

"Stacie. Stacie Muller. And you are...?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. 

"Austin Blaker," I squeak. She is rather intimidating. Still looking at me, she continues walking around me. I turn around to see the boy who kept my mouth firmly shut, who smiles and nods. He's probably about 15. He has light brown hair, brushed across to the right-hand side. His hazel eyes are relaxed and kind. I can trust this guy. Stacie notices me looking at him. 

"That's Bryce Cotter," she informs me. I mumble my thanks. She really is terrifying. 

"You are to keep silent when told to, follow the group, don't go astray and you'll need training if you plan on making it out alive," Stacie tells me, a little bit annoyed that she has to train me. I nod in understanding.

I flinch as her sharp nails dig into my elbow. She pulls me towards a door behind the couch. Bryce runs ahead with a key to unlock it.

"My God...." I gasp. Behind the metal is a sort of base, with a run down kind of gym. All the machines are made of broken hospital equipment and worn furniture lines the walls like a cozy den. The door clicks behind me clicks, signaling that it is now locked. Four thin faces turn to me with an expression hard to distinguish. A cocky guy about 19 years of age strides up to me with a smirk planted on his lips. He puts out his hand.

"The names Sawyer. Sawyer Hammond," he flashes a grin as I shake his outstretched hand. He flicks his blond hair out of his eyes with shake of his head. 

"What are you, sixteen?"

"Fifteen," I reply. He nods. He points to a small girl in a black tracksuit.

"That's Kim. She's only seven. She was abandoned by her parents when she was five, and has been here for six months. She looks up to me like her father," he whispered proudly in his slight American accent. Sawyer turned to a boy fiddling with some wires.

"That's Carter Howard, the thirteen year old wizz-kid. He doesn't talk much and he spends most of his time figuring out ways to escape using electronic contraptions. He has a habit of burning his hands with the stuff, so stay well back when he's testing it," he explains to me. Then, pulling me over to a guy and girl attempting to make a meal, he gags.

"What the hell are you cooking?!" he coughs. The girl blushes a dark crimson.

"Soup..." she whispers.

"Jesus, Emily. Oh, and that's Josh. The twins," he says, holding his nose.

"Were all of you homeless?" I ask cautiously. He nods.

"The woman likes to ah, how would you say, "clean" the streets of foul children. She considers us as filth, or dirty people that soil the sidewalk. I presume you've met Bryce and Stacie?" he says, quickly changing the subject.

"I have. Don't know much about them though," I admit. 

"Avoid Stacie at all costs," he warns me. "You can trust her with your life, she does not lie or trick. But she is terrifying. She's the boss around here," he says, lowering his voice.

"Bryce is just wonderful," he clasps his hands in a very cheezy way. "I helped him myself to get out of that room. He's sixteen. Very kind and loyal and trustworthy."

And just at that moment, a yelp escapes both mine and Carter's mouths. Carter turns around slowly to reveal a blackened face and singed hair. Kim rushes over with a cloth (damp, like almost everything else in that room) to wash his face. She seems almost too mature for her age. Damaged. Like she had been left to fend for herself. She has been. Oh yeah. Just like everyone else here. We're all damaged.

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Welp, I got no character profiles, so I just made them up myself. Anyhoo, a vote would be much appreciated! Also, I'll be starting a joint account with my friend for one story. I'll update you when we've started it. 

~Niamh x