Destination 1974

Chapter 18

|The only person I can count on is myself |

~***~

The car pulls up to a giant gate with a few men standing guard at the hidden facility. Agent Benedict's window slides open, and he leans out to type on the keypad, opening the gates for us to enter. I look in awe at the trees along the sides of the private road. It opens up to a giant cement building with a lot of windows. It maybe only goes up six or seven stories, but the place seems to be stretched out until the small willowwacks surrounding the area hinders the building from being any bigger. It's very isolated here, and not at all what I was expecting it to be. I sit back as an uncomfortable shiver jolts through my spine at the eerie sight.

The beautiful gate and driveway distracted me from realizing I'll never see the outside world again.

The car stops, and Agent Benedict steps out of the vehicle, walking around the car to open my door for me. He offers me his hand, and I accept it awkwardly since my wrists are still handcuffed together. Benedict pulls me up with good force, and closes the door behind me with his hand resting on the small of my back. I think his gentleman-like nature is a technique he uses; trying to gain some sort of trust with me so that I'll let my guard down. I look up at him, and he gives me the most dashing smile, showing his unnaturally white teeth. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, however, since they always seem to contain an unreadable coldness. It's like he wears a person mask, disguising himself to fit in with society, but inside he's much more. Benedict has an empty darkness inside of him, like a puddle on a rainy night; beautiful, yet mysterious like a dark void. I don't like him.

He leads me up the stone path, and into the front entrance of the building. The Foyer is very plain, with very little colour, and too many people walking around - probably to make themselves look busy. It's odd not having any agents or security holding me. All I have is Benedict allowing me to casually walk beside him. He's really pissing me off with this whole gimmick of trying to earn my trust. I'm being forced to feel welcomed in a place that's trying too hard to disguise itself. I'm not safe here, and this place reminds me of my parents. Benedict reminds me of my parents, but maybe with a different set of morals.

We approach the end of the narrow hallway, and Benedict opens the door to reveal an interrogation room. This room isn't dim and dull like the police department one; it's bright, with white-painted walls, a steel table, two chairs, and a giant black window that disguises itself as a mirror. It's reflectiveness is more prominent in the bright room, which is probably why they have it set up that way. It's nearly impossible for someone not very observant to see it's clearly a window for a small party of people to watch your interrogation.

Benedict pulls out the chair with it's back to the door, and I politely sit down. I try to keep my eyes from wandering around the painfully bland room. He pulls out a set of keys, and reaches for my hands, hesitating for a silent invitation. I hold my hands out to him in two fists, and he gently unlocks the handcuffs. I absent-mindedly rub my wrists as he walks around the table, and sits in the only other chair in the room, directly across from me.

"That must feel much better," he notes while taking off his jacket to attach the handcuffs to his belt holster. My eyes instinctively snoop his belt, straight to the chrome of the gun that shimmers in the harsh light. I look back in his eyes, but find myself feeling small and sick to my stomach at the sight of his cold gaze. I decide to stare at the bridge of his nose, making sure I avoid his eyes at all costs.

"I'm just going to ask you a few procedural questions before deciding where to go from there," he explains with a smooth voice as he folds his hands on the table. He rubs his ring finger on his left hand, the vacant finger might've had a ring there at some point that he still goes to fumble with out of habit. I jerk my head in one brief nod before allowing myself to slouch a little in the chair. I'm trying to appear as if I'm comfortable to keep him thinking he has the upper hand.