Wanted

Chapter 11

"We have to head back upstairs."
I give him a scared look.
"I won't hurt you. Now come on."
Once we're upstairs, he shows me to a different room. This room is twice as big as the other room up here, and twice as terrifying. There are broken tables, chairs, bricks, and shelves up here.
"What is this place?" I ask.
"The room where I'm supposed to kill Glorians-- if the kids downstairs can't for some reason."
I take a step back.
He looks at my feet. "Oh would you stop doing that? Backing up all the time? Have I not made it clear that I'm not going to hurt you?"
"I'll never trust you until you don't have that gun anymore." I point to the lethal weapon. "Sorry."
"Ohhh I see."
I'm give him a confused look.
"That can easily be fixed. Here." He tosses me his gun. Now I'm even more confused.
"What makes you think that I won't kill you?" I respond. "I've already tried it once."
"Well, one, we should talk about how you hit me over the head with a pole. And two, I have the bullets to that gun your holding." He shakes the bullet cartridge in his hand. "Now, neither of us are protected. Smart thinkin, Ella."
I didn't really think that far. I don't know how to use a gun! I decide to shake that thought from my mind and not respond.
"Anyways, right behind here..." he pulls a big cabinet from against the wall. "Boom. Exit."
Behind the cabinet is a perfectly rectangular doorway to outside.
"This is where all of the Glorians I'm supposed to murder go. I don't kill them, I save them."
I'm in awe of his kindness. "Why?"
"My best friend was a Glorian." Sam sits on top of one of the still intact tables. "The head Rebel Guard, Rodger, was about to make me kill him, but I just couldn't. So, instead, Rodger killed him. Rodger murdered my best friend. Since then, I never believed in killing Glorians."
"Rodger," I whisper to myself. He drove me here. He ordered his partners to kill my parents!
"You know him?"
I blink away the tears building up in my eyes. "Um... ya. He brought me here. He k.. killed my parents." I shake at my words.
Sam shoots up from his seat on the table. "He killed your parents!" His voice is on the verge of a yell.
"Yep. Right in front of me." I look at the floor.
"I'm so, so sorry. I promise he'll pay." Sam lifts my chin so I'm looking at him, our faces inches apart. A tear falls down my cheek. He quickly wipes it away. "He will pay."