Colors of Paris ◇ Elijah Stevenson

Chapter Twenty One

Let the water works come y'all 

My eyes shoot open and I gasp for any sort of oxygen. It is dark; the air around me is damp and heavy  in my already throbbing lungs. I immediately awake and become fully alert to see I wasn't in the alleyway anymore.  I am not near Elijah, and my surroundings don't smell of that hickory smoke smell he holds. The darkness around me smells of what I am assuming  is rusting metal and marijuana. Either that or perhaps it is the stench of blood. I also notice I am standing up, but tied to the cement floor with chains holding me down by the wrists. 

Oh shit. 

Oh shit is really right. I try to take a step forward, but the chains keep me glued to my spot, "no," I breath out. The chains are shiny but freezing against my skin and wouldn't let me budge even an inch.

My dress from what was probably last night is ripped up by the seam and most of right leg is exposed. Part of it holds a couple of blood scars that burn if I look at it for to long.

"Are you fucking kidding me!!" I yell titling my head up to the ceiling. I have been in this situation before and the last time I didn't know why I was. This time I only wish I listened to Elijah. 

The next thing, I realize is the fact I am the only one in here. Wherever 'here' is, I am all alone. My voice bounces off of the walls as if there is no one else to receive it.  Which tells me that here was a big space, but an empty one at that. It isn't the warehouse either. Which also indicates that I have no idea where Elijah is

"Eli!" I cry out, desperately tugging on the chains again but I pull to hard and fall to my knees.  The ground is dirty and sticky on my skin; that whole 'dried blood' theory suddenly seems even more logical than the other. 

"Yuck," I spit under my breath, squinting my eyes to try to see whatever I am kneeling in. I can't tell. The big room is only lit by a single light bulb hanging. 

I whimper and sit back on my heels, tears already trailing down my cheeks. I just want Elijah to be here, so I could be positive he is safe, that he didn't over dose on the drugs. But something terrible probably happened to him. If Richie is behind this, Elijah's probably dead.

I don't even remember how I got here. All I remember is following Elijah and a fellow guy to that club. The face Elijah made when he had to snort up that line. All the rest is a blur state of mind I wish would come back. Unless it is something that could haunt me. 

Finally, after what feels like hours of me quietly crying to myself, wishing nothing more for Elijah to be okay, I hear a door squeak open from somewhere across the room. Next comes the suspenseful sounds of footsteps, gradually making their way towards me as I shakily pull myself up to my feet. The foot steps are getting louder and louder, lazily dragging themselves across the dust cement. I hear a faint chuckle, I instantly recognize it as Richie's.

He and his evil face appears just moments later, emerging into the small pool of light in front of me. He has a smirk on his face as his eyes rake up and down my body. I shrink back in fear and vigorously shake my head, "No! Get away from me-"

"Shhh," Richie says quietly, holding his fingers to his lips, "Madetlyn-"

"Get away!" I back up as far as the chains can let me, spitting at him when he tries to take a step towards me, "get the fuck away I swear to God."

He stuck his hands up in defense, "Jesus Christ, Madetlyn. You need to chill."

"I need to chill? I need to chill?" I pant, "you need to chill. What the hell is this for?"

I gesture to the chains around my wrists. Richie doesn't respond, he just looks me up and down. He laughs quietly, "Answer me!" I demand, "what more could you possibly want from me?"