The Price of Love

◆ 6 ◆

Tommy stayed behind to walk with me as Lee and Phoenix went ahead, shoving and jostling each other all the way towards a rundown building.

It was another abandoned place, except this time I recognized it. It was an old printing company that had shut down in the 80's. We were in the middle of the projects, where slums were synonymous with the people living in it. A far cry from the glamour and glory of a 36 room manor. Here, the poor roamed the streets, their clothes blending in with the dreary desolate buildings, where abandoned cats hissed from corners and trash littered every broken gutter. 

It was at times like these that I loathed my life. A life of wealth, where money was spent on Botox and sports cars when people slept in the streets. And yet I was every bit a part of the lucre society that destructed the lives of the less fortunate for personal gain, I was every bit to blame for standing idly by when people starved, I would burn in hell for it. 

Heiress to a multi-billion dollar empire that funded wars, god bless the Evers legacy. High and mighty we stood, but the price paid for it was a blood debt. It wasn't our blood spilled.

"You okay, Daphne?" Tommy asked, holding the door open. "You look upset."

"Thanks. I'm great!" I chirped, albeit a bit too happily because Tommy looked skeptical. Trying to ignore the lump in my throat, I stepped inside the building. It was completely dark because the windows were boarded up. I could hear Lee and Phoenix moving around up ahead, and then the power kicked on. The fluorescent lights flared up, flooding the cavernous room with light. As before with the warehouse, the ruins of a printing press lay in waste amongst other odds and ends.

"Come on guys, Max is here!" Phoenix waved from near an open doorway. 

We followed, carefully stepping over dusty wires. In the next room where Lee and Phoenix stood, there was a chair set up against one wall, where a single bare bulb hung above. A camera was also set up on a tripod, directly across from the chair.

A man entered the room. He was short and stocky, with bright blue eyes and a patchy white beard, kind of Santa Claus-looking, but Santa probably wouldn't be holding a roll of duct tape and rope in one hand, and a rolled up newspaper in the other. Not a good Santa, at least. Maybe like a bondage Santa in po- oh, never mind.

"Max," The man introduced himself, tucking the newspaper under his arm to free a hand for me to shake. He grinned, revealing pristine white teeth.

I gave him my hand and he gently crushed my fingers together. Falling back in wonderment, I watched as Max began to prepare himself, occasionally holding a brief conversation with one of the other guys. 

What was it with these kidnappers? They all looked so trusting, like a polite passing stranger in the street. At first glance, the aura they alluded was nothing but innocent. Even now, I couldn't help but blindly put my faith in their hands, simply because this experience was nothing like I've ever been in before. 

"Alright, Daphne." Max motioned towards the lone chair. "Have a seat."

I walked over and sat, blinking against the harsh light propped above the camera. With the dirty walls in the back and the dried blood still clinging to my neck, I was sure that the video we were about to shoot was going to be a believable one, even though I knew no danger was present. Everything worked together nicely to create a horrific effect. I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.

Phoenix walked over, putting the newspaper in my lap. Glancing down, I noticed today's copy of the New York Times, the date clearly printed on one corner. As I was staring at that, a ripping noise startled me. Looking up, I noticed Phoenix holding out a length of tape, an apologetic expression in his eyes.