The Last of the Pure

Seventeen

When I woke up, I was in what looked like a disgusting, unfinished basement. There were pipes lining the ceiling I was looking up at and I looked around to realize I was lying on a cold cement floor. My ankle had been chained to a thick metal pipe coming out of the ground and curving against the ceiling with one of those medieval looking cuffs. It was cold and tight against my leg, when I tugged a bit, the pipe budge slightly but it didn’t look like anything was going to give.

I found myself screaming in frustration.

“Calm down,” a voice said, coming down the stairs. I stared at the figure, it was dark, so I couldn’t make out much. They squatted down in front of me and eyes bore into mine curiously. I recognized the shade immediately, dark blue with a bit of gold that matched Thomas’s almost perfectly.

“What are you doing with me, Peter?” I asked. My voice was ragged, cracking from screaming, but I tried not to sound weak.

“I think a bit of convincing is what Lucas has in mind,” he chuckled darkly. He continued to study me and I couldn’t help it, I tried to lash out. He stepped back quick enough, standing up fully and smirking down at me. “I heard you were spirited.”

He reached down once again and I flinched slightly, but Peter merely lifted the watch hanging around my neck, examining a bit before furrowing his eyebrows at me.

“Where did you get this?” he asked. He didn’t seem angry, just confused mostly.

“My parents,” I lied easily, but he didn’t seem to buy it.

“I don’t think they would have something like this.”

With that, Peter turned and walked back up the stairs, laughing softly before the door closed behind him. I found myself shouting again, rattling the chain connected to my ankle, yanking the pipe it was connected to.

It was just after four in the morning by my watch. Thomas wouldn’t notice I was missing yet, so a rescue on his part might have to wait a few days. Samuel was waiting for my call when I fell asleep; I was hoping he was worried. Hoping he might have a plan.

I didn’t want him here, though. Send someone else, devise an escape plan, but definitely not come here. He’d spent too long getting away to be snatched back now. And with the way he had left him, who was to say they wouldn’t kill him for his disloyalty?

I realized I was crying then, feeling the hot tears run down my messy face. I couldn’t let them see me like this, I thought, so I sucked it up quickly, wiping my cheeks with the back of my wrist.

I stayed up the rest of the night, staring between the wall and the watch around my neck, seeing the seconds tick by slowly. It was after six when a faint light broke through a small square window on the opposite wall. I could see dirt outside covering about half of the window.

I stood up when it was bright enough, making my way as close to the window before my ankle was tugged by the chain.

This was just barbaric.

I spent the entire day alone, picking at the rust on the pipe that had become part of my leg, digging mud out of the dress I was still wearing, singing some of the songs my father and I used to on the old piano at my Kansas City house.

I was hungry, cold in my stupid dress, and still covered in dirt from battle.

I missed my parents; they were probably worried sick or pissed beyond belief. I hoped Samuel would talk to them, figure out a lie to tell or even give them the specifics if he was up for the challenge. I didn’t want them worrying and taking out a police report.