No Choice But Murder

7

I immediately turned to Farah. 'OI!'

'SHH!' she hissed. 'Wait for them to shut the door!'

We heard the metallic clang of the iron door almost immediately and the various jolts and noises of the locks that we would soon get used to.

'What are we going to do?' I let the tears run down my face. I turned to look at Carter and James', both still passed out.

'Firstly,' said Farah. 'Stop crying, its awkward and it makes me feel bad for not feeling any sympathy for you.'

Same old Farah. Even when we were kidnapped, locked in basement more than 10 feet under the ground, forced to live here, denied any dinner, and in skimpy, disgusting clothing, she was still the same moody old pig.

'Secondly, I know what we can do. I mean, we can't leave right now, I have no plan for that. But what I do have is a plan worthwhile.'

'What?'

'Gain their trust. We should learn how to gain their trust. If that means living here for weeks, then so be it. We need to learn how each of them are. Don't beg to go home, don't beg at all. They hate it, couldn't you tell? Act normal, like you want to live here. Be respectful. Ask if you can help them in their house upstairs. Maybe then we can find out where they keep keys and weapons and stuff. I know the ringleader, Polly, loves me. I can be sweet. We need to gain that suspicious one, Petunia's, though. We have to be sweet.'

I nodded. She had a point. 'makes most sense.'

'Well, duh.' She stood up and made her way to the bathroom. 'Tell Pam I'm in the shower when she comes with the clothes.'

'Yeah... so what do we do about Carter and James'?'

She stared at me pityingly from the threshold. 'Leave them where they are. They'll probably wake up tomorrow and then we can let them in on the plan.' She shut and locked the bathroom door.

I turned around and sighed. What was I supposed to do now? My stomach grumbled without dinner and there was a cold draught running around even though we were so far underground. I shivered in the tiny dress and stared at Carter who looked dead.

There was suddenly a clatter of footsteps and I turned in the direction of the staircase. Pam was rushing down as if she was being chased. 'Here,' she thrust a heap of beige and mauve garments at me and rushed up the stairs again, looking back every two steps and shaking her head at me. I narrowed my eyes at her and she sighed and said, 'Sorry, and I'd love to help and all, but it really is your own fault. Be up at 7:30am washed and ready for breakfast or there will be none.' then she darted upstairs. I stared after her for a while, confused yet I understood her. I turned to the clothes.

The clothes were huge, ugly dresses with flower patterns on the knitted pockets and used hankies in them. I withdrew in revulsion.

'Has she come with the clothes yet?'

I jumped up and thrust the clothes at Farah's towelled body as she stepped out the shower. 'Hey!'