If You Need Someone to Talk to

Two Against One

Chrys awoke groggily to a pitch dark. She wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her, but shaking of her body begged to differ. She could not determine if it was fear, or the entrapping cold. The environment around her juddered and reeked of the malodorous stench of fuel. She figured she had been thrown into the boot of a car.

Her mouth had been sealed shut with duct tape, and her throat scratched with thirst. Her knee ached and the corner of her forehead still pricked with pain. Thus, there would be no use in calling for help, nor kicking from the inside. Her body roughly rolled to its front as the car hit a speed bump of some sort. She fiddled with her wrists, which had been tightly tied behind her back with an itchy sisal rope. Something didn't feel right, and she soon realised.

Her ring. It was gone.

Her chest sunk with panic. Possibly an unhealthy blend of the current instability of her emotions and the weighty thought that Katherine's one and only gift to her had been lost. Or stolen. Her phone had been taken too.

But now, all that she had the capacity to do was wait. She gritted her teeth, trying her hardest to retain her frustration. Nora. She never should've trusted her in the first place. She had drawn her into this mess. Chrys felt utterly stupid believing that even for a moment, she had thought that Nora was attractive. It didn't matter the slightest, for behind that pretty face of hers hid an egocentric, greedy heart, despite what Dane had stated. Clearly Nora had stolen the ring, and this whole scheme had been set up by her.

Time lost its way during the stuffy, uncomfortable ride. At last the boot flipped open and Chrys was met by the same two men. A rush of fresh air woke her senses.

"Out," one of the men demanded. They tugged her by her shoulder and carelessly pulled her out. Chrys limped as she adjusted her footing, only then grasping the fact that the night remained unchanged – ominous with the absence of sound. She examined her surroundings as they dragged her closer to a dilapidating, creaking building, unmistakably abandoned. She hadn't any idea where she was. The black Mercedes behind her offered no clues either. Gravel rocks shifted beneath her and more decaying structures encircled her. The nearest sight of civilisation stood to her right – a gas station, however unfortunately, also abandoned and blatantly robbed. It's light-boxed sign uncannily flickered on and off. Great.

Chrys was violently ushered into a plastic chair that sat directly in the middle of the room. A singular lightbulb wavered on. It was the only light source, exclusive of the dull burn of the baldy's cigarette butt. The other removed his cloth mask, revealing a nasty scar that sliced from his chin to his upper lip.

"What a special one we have here, aye Jude?" He spat as he spoke, while scrutinising every inch of Chrys' smeared face. Finally, he teared the tape from Chrys' mouth and her muffled words became coherent.

"What do you want?!" she exclaimed, her body leaning out from her chair. She expected Nora to arrive at any moment.

A spark of light reflected off something in between the bald-guy - Jude's - thumb and forefinger. He flicked it into the air and caught it. The ring. Chrys' ring.

"What the hell do you want with that?!" she spluttered, suddenly queasy at the probability that these men may have had some relation to Katherine.

"Oh nothing too painful, don't worry about that, no no," Jude stared at Chrys with his languid, hungry eyes. "All we want is a little bit of information. Just a little." About what? Katherine?

"I don't know what you mean. I have nothing to share," Chrys confessed though laboured breaths, attempting to take the matter more deceptively.

Without warning, the scarred one impatiently whipped a slap across Chrys' face. Its noise radiated off the cracked pillars.