Too Much To Hide || EDITING

c.42

      The disturbing scent of dead animals and a dirty trench gets my brain wiring and my eyelids fluttering. Overwhelmed, my head lolls on my shoulder until I will myself to straighten up, only to find that I'm seated on a tacky wooden chair. As my eyes begin to work, nothing but musty green walls fill my vision, lit up by the single dim light of a ceiling lamp right above my head. Even the roof is water stained and matted; where the hell am I?

      Bounding out of the chair, vertigo attacks my head as my posture wobbles from side to side. Shaking out the weakness, my eyes dart around the secluded room. Four grimy walls box me in, with only one door on the other end. I almost fly past the chair and immediately curl my fingers around the handle, shaking it vigorously but it stays in place, not shifting an inch. Frustrated, I realise I only have my flip flops on my feet and they wouldn't do much against the rusty handle. The sides of my fists collide with the door, sounding out echoing bangs.

      "Someone let me out!"

      Of course, there's no response. My hands are aching and turning red for no reason. Scanning the room once more, it's only the chair here and even that looks like it will break under impact. Getting a stupid yet hopeful idea, I pick the wood up and smash it across the floor, letting it dismantle itself from the force. Sorting through the shattered pieces, I select the slimmest and longest splinter I can find. Pacing back to the door, I try to jimmy it in between the lock and the wall but that fails too. Throwing the piece away, my hands go into my hair as no other means of escape come to mind.

      To my surprise, a lock turns and the door pushes open slowly to show Nathan, dishevelled with his white linen shirt untucked and unbuttoned. Thankful for a familiar face, a wide grin appears on my face.

      "Nathan! How did—"

      The force of a slap sends me to the floor, my palms being the only thing stopping my face from smashing against the cold concrete. Gasping, my cheek swells and stings without mercy. The slap affected my right eye and now, it twitches and tears so badly, I can't keep it open. Twisting my head, I stare, to the best of my ability, at Nathan who heaves and glares at me, the hand he used curled by his side.

      "What the hell?" I growl, gently touching my puffy eye. Great, now the whole right side of my face is swollen. How hard did the bastard slap me?

      "God, Liz," he sneers, crouching down to look at me. The light casts a foreboding shadow on him, his usual pretty features darkened and dangerous. "You're damn naïve."

      "Excuse me, you just slapped me." I bite, scrambling up and leaving him be, going after the open door. To my disadvantage, Nathan is faster; his palm smashes the door closed and his hard build blocks me from opening it again. I'm at a loss; why is Nathan acting so psychotic?

      "Move Nathan," I try to pry his shoulder away from the door but one push sends me back, my ass almost on the floor again.

      "Don't be dumb. You're staying right here."

      "Are you stupid? God knows how I got here in the first place,"

      "Think a little, Liz!" His voice booms in the small room, making me jump. "Who could have got to you in the comforts of your home, right under your nose?"

      No way. "You? You got me to black out in the kitchen!"

      He smirks. "No, really? I had no clue."

      His sarcasm brings a grimace to my face as I go to give him a taste of his own medicine but Nathan grabs my incoming hand, flips me over so my chest is against the door and collects both of my hands behind me in his iron tight grip.