Whitewashed

Say My Name

Chapter 14: Say My Name

***THERE ARE INTENSE SCENES IN THIS CHAPTER. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED***

Whispers. At the edge of my mind. Not voices, but thoughts.

Swirling.

Churning.

Circling.

I can’t grasp any of it. I reach and reach, but always fall short.

Stars. I can see stars. Maybe, maybe not. They are bright lights high above me and way out in front- and behind- and to my left and right. Everywhere. Little pin pricks of light blinking back at me.

None of it makes sense. None.

Whispers. Circling. Stars.

I am a prisoner of my own mind. Trapped behind the bars of unconsciousness, unable to see any further than my cage.

However, every so often I hear something above the ear shattering din that is the complete silence in my own mind. Names. Sometimes places or things, but namely names.

Tommo. Gun. Haz. Warehouse. Fight. Liam. Roses. Liam. Liam. Liam.

Wake up.

It’s dark. My eyes are open, but I can’t see.

My wrists feel raw. Something is around them, holding them together. A rope?

What happened? Where am I?

Before I can think of any more questions, I hear a door open and a set of heavy footsteps. A chill runs across my skin like a million sparks from an upset log in a fire pit.

A male voice reaches my ears, “Hello, doll face. Nice to see you again.”

I know that voice. I know it but I can’t place it.

A gag in my mouth prevents me from responding, but would I have otherwise? No, probably not. I have no clue what’s going on, who I’m talking to. Making a blind retort is not always the best option.

Just keep breathing, Brooke. Concentrate on that.

Bad choice. My chest aches with every inhale and my nasal cavity stings.

Chloroform. Kidnapped.

“Gia brought you here nice and safe,” his words are smooth, like they’re covered in silk. If I didn’t feel like I was about to die at any moment, I might appreciate the quality of his youthful voice. “I had to pay her- not with money of course. I hate feeding her habits but hey, who am I to judge if the job gets done perfectly every time?”

As the blindfold is torn from my eyes, I can feel the knot rip out a few strands of hair and his fingernails scratch the skin where he grabbed the material.

Our eyes meet and I instantly recognize him.

Romeo.

He had said ‘Gia.’ Gia must be the girl who kidnapped me. She was clearly on drugs and now it makes sense. Abscido is in the drug trade. She had said she didn’t want my money and Romeo informed me that he isn’t paying her with that medium either. So is he giving her DRUGS?

Whatever the case, he stands in front of me with his arms crossed.

Still with his leather jacket, tight jeans, blonde hair slightly brushed over his forehead, and the ‘bow down to me’ demeanor.

I’m not sure whether to be relieved or exceedingly apprehensive.

On a positive note, Romeo is not Montreal.