My mother. She went to the police and they are looking for me. I'm somewhere in Boston for sure. My brother nor Mother don't know that.
I'm huddled in the corner of a place, seems so familiar yet distant. The smell though, soon it came in and it felt like it had smacked me in the face. It was strong, and it was killing me that I didn't understand, I swayed as I became alarmingly dizzy, words floated around me as I stayed in my huddled position. The words, a code, a something that I knew but couldn't put my finger on it. A rattling started to set in, the room was spinning, shouting began to replace the whispering, the smells got stronger. I couldn't bare it any longer I was scared, panicked. My eyes snapped open.
2, 6, 29, 4. The Chinese shop. The fortune cookies lucky numbers. I began to seek this time more thoroughly, in between the cracks of the white leathery pads I found a small hole. I slipped my hand in and ripped off the cushion and whipped it across the room. I wanted out and if this was how, I wouldn't take any chances of messing this up.
I looked at the keys with numbers glowing green. I quickly punched in the code. I wasn't sure if it was right or wrong. After 10 seconds I propped myself against a wall. This was agony, I was starving and thirsty as I lay with cold sweat dripping down my forehead.
Fortune cookies. Pretty interesting part of the whole Chinese take away experience. It's not even Chinese, it's from California. I mean, another way to make money I guess. But even if it was the code to get out of here, how would they even expect me to remember it. What if I didn't. What if I punched the numbers in wrong. What if--
As if almost immediately, there were horrific poundings at the left wall of me. I sat there, frozen in disbelief and terrorised. I soon picked myself off the ground and tried to hide, shield with anything... ANYTHING!
As the hits got louder, there were slits on the wall, forming during every single pound that crashed onto the wall, there were several people. They were wielding axes. The thought horrified me as I shifted into a corner where the were less likely to axe-dentally (hehehe..no?) loose their grip on the axe and go straight through my head and bash my brains out.
As they start diminishing the cushions, I can see faces, well, kind of. There were four men hacking with no direction. They had a coal coloured, sack over their head, everything else was pristine and white. White fitted jeans, white fitted tee and white shoes. The black was an interesting touch of color. Behind the axe-men was more interesting.
A man with a pearl suit and pearl shoes with a black tie. His hair had specks of grey but mostly a chestnut brown. As I stood there, looking perplexed and trying to wrap my head around the situation, he spoke.
"Halt." His voice was strong and musty. As if almost immediately, the chopping and slicing came to an end. I was relieved of my anxiety, well, some of it. He walked past one of the men, pushing him aside. I had to restrain myself from saying anything that could get me hacked to a pulp. I just sat there and watched as he calmly stepped forward.
