Game of Life

{ c h a p t e r . f o u r }

           Reese Hoover

       When I come back to my senses, I take a look around at where I am. I am in a dark and empty room. While I am looking around, I notice one half of a pair of handcuffs attached to my left wrist. Immediately, I think of the worst. But then, I hear a low chuckle. At first, whatever chuckled only moves and doesn't say anything. I realize that I am actually handcuffed to somebody. It could possibly be somebody else that this stranger guy kidnapped. Well, that's what I thought until the stranger guy just so happened to be the other person that I am handcuffed to.

"Nice to see you finally wo-" I cut him off.

"What the hell am I doing here?"

He only chuckles again, "That's for me to know and for you to find out, or maybe you won't. That all depends on how you act."

"Stand up." I demand.

"Excuse me?" He retorts.

"I didn't stutter." My voice remains steadily pissed off.

       Slowly, he rises off of the floor and carefully helps me up as well.

"First thing's first, what's your name?" I begin interrogating him.

"Hold up. Last time I checked, this is my house." He replies.

"That's a rather long name. Short and sweet please." I respond, smiling sweetly and innocently.

He groans, "Drake."

"Drake?"

"Drake Dylan Hurst. Satisfied?" He states.

I laugh a little, "Very."

       Drake tries asking me multiple questions, but I just ignore him. Eventually, I get bored and just sit back down on the floor. Attempting to sit on the floor while being handcuffed to somebody who is standing up is not the easiest task in the world. It was also a very bad idea because as soon as my butt hit the floor, Drake's whole body hit me. He doesn't look that heavy, aside from the good-looking amount of muscle, so I was slightly taken aback when it felt like fifty elephants had all collapsed on top of me.

"GET YOUR FAT ASS OFF OF ME!" I exclaim.

Drake just chuckles like a light bulb has gone off in his head, "No, now is the perfect time to question you."

I gasp for air, "Can't. Breathe. Dying. Under-oxygenated."

"Stop it, you're a terrible actor." Even though I was just exaggerating, his criticism hurts a little bit.

       I stop overreacting and just lay there, crushed underneath his body mass.

"So, what's your name?"

"You kidnapped somebody without knowing their name?"

"Boss's orders."

"Your boss is an idiot."

"That's irrelevant. What's your damn name?"

"Fine. Lillian Reese Hoover. Call me Reese, though." I answer, after continuous antagonizing.

"Why don't you go by Lillian?" He questions me, and I begin to wonder if he ever gets tired of asking questions.

I'm silent for a moment, then I answer, "Lillian was my mother's name. So instead of having two Lillian's in the house, they just called me by my middle name. Which I now prefer over Lillian anyway."

"You said it was your mother's name?" There he goes again with the questions..

I sigh, "My mother suffered an aneurysm when I was six."

He goes silent, and then quietly tells me, "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. It was nine years ago. I still miss her, obviously, but I'm not going to dwell in my past and make my weakness known." I explain to him.

He looks directly into my eyes and says, "Never in my life have I ever heard such an amazingly philosophical phrase come out of the mouth of a fifteen-year-old girl."

       In that moment, I swear I could've kissed him. I know that's pretty ridiculous to say, especially about the guy who kidnapped you and all, but it's the truth.