You're My Kind Of Wrong

Chapter Ten

Axton's playlist:

▪︎ Skrillex - Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites
▪︎ Rancid - Time Bomb
▪︎ Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)
▪︎ Bedlam - Magic Carpet Ride
▪︎ Jack Nietzsche - The Last Race
▪︎ George Baker Selection - Little Green Bag
▪︎ Brother Dege - Too Old To Die Young
▪︎ Cage The Elephant - Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Axton

I feel my consciousness rising to the surface. As I roll on my bed I become more aware of my surroundings. The kitchen floor creaks and whispers soar through the air. What the fuck? I think I see a black figure walking past my door, but my eyes must be deceiving me. I must be still dreaming. I am home alone, aren't I?

I lift my body from the mattress, leaning against my elbows and try to focus. Hell, I shouldn't have drunk so much bourbon last night. My vision is blurry and the room is spinning. Abruptly, my elbows falter and I slump back. I'm too inebriated and drowsy to gather my thoughts so I turn towards the window and try to go back to sleep.

In one fell swoop, everything turns black. I raise my hands to my eyes and touch cold, silky cloth. My fingers reach further and meet leather gloves. Gloves that are pressing the darkness onto my eyes. I try to move my legs but they are immediately pinned down. I shake and kick in an attempt to free myself from these human hand shackles with no luck. All my efforts to squirm out of their grasp is useless. I scream and all the air leaves my lungs.

I feel different touches belonging to at least three different pairs of hands on my skin. And then, a rag is shoved into my mouth. The fabric is wet and an ether-like smell exudes from it. I taste a sweet liquid, and little by little I am knocked out unconscious.

I wake up fully clothed and my throat and mouth feel like on fire. I lift my head up only to bump it on metal. Shit! The blindfold is still on, making everything pitch black; although I suspect things would be as dark without it. I'm crammed into what feels like a trunk of a big car. As I move my arms to hit the walls for help I realize they're tied with tape, and so are my ankles.

The vehicle seems to be moving and taking an occasional turn as I am tossed around the small enclosure. My ears touch the felted wall I judge to be the one closest to the inside of the car. I slow my breath and focus. At first, I only hear mumbles however, after some seconds I can make out some words.

"Have the others arrived?" a slightly familiar voice asks.

"I am not sure, but we're quite close to the warehouse. Only a few more minutes," the other responds.

Fucking hell, warehouse? Who are these people? And as sudden and violent as a bolt of lightning that sets a tree on fire, it hits me: the Circle. The Golden Circle. It has to be it.

Ever since I said yes to it, I haven't heard back from either of them. Taken it has been days since I last talked to any of them, I thought that to be quite curious as I'd been expecting instructions for the so-called initiation. But taking this situation into consideration, I reckon instructions might've never been on the table at all.

The car halts suddenly and I am tossed towards one of the walls yet again. Fuck. If I come out of this concussion free, I'll be one lucky bastard.

The slight throbbing of my forehead does not help with the tossing and turning of my stomach. The last thing I need is to vomit in here and get stuck with my foul-smelling inside contents for God knows how long.

A strong gust hits me on the face and I realize the door has been opened. A hand grabs my collar scratching and marking the skin underneath, and next, I am thrown outside. My right shoulder blade hits concrete sending pain through my arm, giving me a severe jolt.