Outside the dangerous streets, soft dark curly brown hair flows in the moonlight mixed with street lamps which seem to illuminate strong stern features. Thick denim jacket with the bright glimmer of silver hidden inside. A shade of crystal clear gre...
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Dust butterflies were my only company for hours upon end. Only a glimpse of colour lets me acknowledge my eyes are indeed open, a slight flicker of a dim light from a fair distance. My shaking hands in front of me aren't even visible in the darkness coating my being in despairing nerves. The small electric nerves seem to cause my constant shivers yet the truth was the frigid air surrounding.
Cramped in the warehouse with the sound of a single drip seems almost as torturing as the water technique which slowly lures people into sanity. Water torture. My mind went in waves of thoughts passing by in a pattern always starting with my father, slowly gravitating to Harper and lastly my little French Bulldog, Dottie.
Rattling startles me as harsh light immediately contrasting the conditions I've endured filters in my animal like cage. This forces me to scoot back towards the far wall on my converse, scuffing sounding and bouncing off the walls from the fast movements.
"Let's go little girl, you're hitting the road," a gruff voice says with a slither of sympathy seeping through his words.
Shaking my head, dizziness occurs combined will the dull ache in my arm now completely bearable.
"Where... where are we going?" I shakily question.
Keys rattle open the metal barred door swinging outwards with a creak. The bronze rust now colouring the once before silver bars catches my worried green eyes. However, my view later locks onto the person speaking before me.
"Not we, I'd rather dig a six foot hole than be stuck in a car with him. Anyways my names Cole." He says lending out a hand which I ignore. "You know I wish we met in better circumstances this whole fuc—"
"I think that's enough shit you splutter out, don't you think?" A recognisable voice grumbles sending delightful but unwanted shivers over my curled in body which has now settled on the cool cement.
"I was just trying to lighten the mood, it's quite suffocating whenever you decide to show up Harry," Cole scoffs with the shake of his head.
I tilt my head with wide eyes realising the nickname Cole gave Harold. I hide the smile due to fear over the little nickname. I shouldn't be thinking such things when my life hangs in the balance. Especially when Harry is the reason.
Harry quickly slants his eyes deathly staring at Cole. Without looking at me Harry growls, "get up Elora, we're leaving, now!"
Quickly shuffling into a standing position I lean onto the back brick wall due to my quick movements. The tilt of his head looking at me with a hateful gaze has me tiptoeing towards him. I haven't done anything to hurt him. Why does it seem like my existence kills him inside and out?
