The Assassin ✓

Chapter Nineteen

Black. Dark. Intense. Not-bright. He was running out of ideas how to call it, but the fact did not change - he could not see a thing.

Tom blinked a few times and realised there was nothing on his face - either it was the lightning, or he had gone blind. Slowly, fearfully, he paid attention to his hands. They were freezing cold. They were also untied, so he slowly pushed himself up and sat upright from wherever he was lying down. Probably a floor. He slowly lifted his hands, keeping them close to his body, and reached up to his face. After having touched his face to determine whether he still had it - sitting in complete darkness had it's effects on Tom - he lowered them back down.

The surface was cold.. probably stone. Yes, a stone floor - and an uneven one at that. He slowly reached out - nothing but thin air. He stretched his arms out to his sides - also nothing. He turned to the side and reached behind him, until he found a wall - the same material and unevenness, as the floor. Having made sure there was nothing painful or dangerous there, he quietly shuffled closer to the wall and pressed his back onto it.

He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to remember what was the last thing he knew. He was back home. He called his mother and then.. oh, yes.The strange man with the gun. After seeing the man, there was some other moments and then everything went black. And now he was here.

He tried holding his breath to hear if there was any noise anywhere; thinking of ways he could possibly get out - if only he could see anything. This darkness was pressing down on his brain, making him more nervous and scared. But, determined to not give up hope, he still tried to think of something. Or rather, he hoped some divine intervention would give him just as divine ideas how to escape.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. It was coming closer. Steps.. Tom could nod decide wether to pretend he was asleep or not. At the very last moment, when the steps seemed very close, he lied down on his side and closed his eyes. Somehow it felt safer. Through his eyelids he could see the room get lighter suddenyl and then someone grabbed his arm and yanked him up.

Tom tripped back down and he was yanked back up again. He tried opening his eyes, but it all seemed so bright. But it lasted only for a few seconds - and then his eyes were tied shut and he was pushed forwards. He had no other option than to walk and he was too scared to ask any questions. Spy movies told him it was better not to annoy anyone.

They were walking for a moment. His legs were not doing what he wanted them to do, and he was constantly pushed forwards, accompanied with such noises as "Faster!"and "Move, goddamnit!".

From the feeling of it, there were probably two men. At least he could make out two voices, but he had no way of knowing, really. He thought he heard a gun rattle in someone's arms. Maybe he was imagining.

Tom could not help but feel like he's had his share of guns for a lifetime, but they were finding him nonetheless.

After some time, someone suddenly grabbed his shoulders and stopped him. He heard keys rattle and figured they were unlocking a door. Then he was pushed forwards again. And then he was stopped again and someone pushed his shoulders down, making his knees buckle. He fell and .. fell onto a chair.

A chair. Why the hell couldn't they just tell him to sit down?!

He sat there, unmoving. After a moment he finally saw light again, as they took the piece of fabric off of his face. He blinked several times and tried adjusting his eyes to the light. It seemed to him there was so much of it.