Unfinished Short Stories

Listen

I didn't hear the door open behind me. The rushing of the thumping footsteps alarm me more than anything, but it's too late to move. It's too late to react now.

If only I was a better listener. . .

Now beneath the ground of an unfamiliar place, my regrets flood my brain more than ever. I can barely see the ground below the chair I'm attached to. The eerie feeling leaves me lonely, floating in the darkness of space.

"Shithead, you up?" A scratchy deep voice mocks me in the darkness after what feels like ages. The flip of a switch makes a dull light turn on above me.

The light is blinding, but I fight through the- hopefully temporary - pain to get a decent look at my capturer. I believe they're a man, their peach fuzz covered, sharp chin and short yet dark and curly hair styled up and out of their face gives me the assumption.

I forgot to respond to anything that he said, his looks more interesting than his voice. I can't seem to get myself to open my lips and speak, even if I knew what to say.

"Ah, you are," he leans closer to my face to become eye level with me. The light creates shadows over his face and his smirk becomes very, very visible. "I've been so excited to actually see you in person." He moves around the room in an elegant yet menacing way.

My eyes follow his movements until I spot the leg of a former someone leaking from the corner of the room where light doesn't reach. In the shadow I can see the faint outline of a person.

And that's when the smell hit me.

The man keeps speaking but my thoughts are elsewhere. I've read horror stories and watched movies that described that nauseating odor of death; however, I never thought I would be in a situation like this now. How did I not realize the heaviness of the air before? Or the stiffness off the room?

I feel as sudden sting on my arm as the man walks around and gets close to my face once more. "Are you even listening to me?" His voice is laced with a hint of anger, yet overpowered by a forced calm.

I shake my head, still unable to make my voice follow what I want it to say.

"You better be starting to listen to what I said then. I choose whether you live or die." His breath is close to my ear as he cowers behind my chair. "I don't think you'd want to anger a man with a weapon."

The cold barrel of a gun touches the middle of my back where the chair doesn't hide my body. Chills shiver down my spine as overwhelming anxiety attaches to my heart and flows throughout my body, mixing with my blood.

"As I was saying," He removes the gun from my back and continues to walk circles around me, "You were brought here by a small group, who was hired by a. . . bigger, private group of people. You know, David, you are very, very special."

Something about his voice makes the air seem heavier than before. My head races with thoughts that don't stay.

"I don't think you know what you really are. Who you really are." His words twist in my head and run my brain through a loop. I'm clueless.

He gets close to my ear one more, this time looming right over my whole body. I tremble but try to keep calm. Breathe. Just breathe.

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A/N
I've left this for so long, and idk where to going.