Dark Hour

Part 14

The first place I'd seen Apollo.

I closed my eyes and imagined the ballroom, all delicate and fancy. There were paintings on the walls of old ancestors. I remembered every line in perfect detail. I remembered the sound your shoes would make as you entered that room. A long, reverberating sound that made you feel small. I felt a wind pick up and put more images in my head of the room.

I opened my eyes and there I was, in the ballroom. I walked up the stairs and called out Apollo's name. I ran into his room and found it nice and neat, how it always was. I ran back downstairs and checked there, calling out his name. Not there. I went everywhere I could think. Then it hit me, I hadn't checked my old room, the one with the balcony.

I raced upstairs one more time, desperate to see my dear Apollo. I slammed open the door and screamed out his name, praying that he would hear me.

"Apollo? Are you there?" I shouted, not with anger, but with fear.

I had no idea where he could be, it could be anywhere for all I knew. I shouted one more time before sitting down on the bed holding in tears.

I fell back onto the bed and breathed in the familiar scent of freesia and honey. I knew that he wasn't hiding from me, so I was basically being sent a message; not here so go away.

I stood up again and ignored the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Like in my dream. That was just a dream and nothing more, I told myself. Or was it? Before I could run away a drug infused cloth appeared over my mouth and I fell into a dark oblivion of quiet. And that scared me the most.

I opened my eyes and had to immediately stop myself from screaming in bewilderment. I was in some sort of warehouse and beside me, no less than five metres away, was a covered figure. Just like in my dream, I thought half crazed. I wanted to go to them, whoever they were but, this time, my hands were tied by painful cords. I sat there thinking about Apollo and what he was up to for the next hour and a half. I was pretty amazed at myself for thinking about that one subject for so long. Then a loud clang ripped me from my thoughts and I looked instantly at the figure next to me with bag over their head. I watched quietly as a group of men walked into the chamber. I noticed that they wore cloth masks to hide half of their face. They went straight to the chained body and started to beat them, they punched them in their stomach and diaphragm, they hit their face and they stabbed them with golden objects which caused their flesh to sizzle and burn.

When they were satisfied, the room reeked of burnt flesh and blood.

I knew what blood smelt like, I had bled myself so many times that I knew the exact smell and taste of blood. It tasted like burnt salt and smelled like, to me, dust and salt. I know that sounds weird but it's true.

I watched with shock as they laughed the the person's tortured screams. I couldn't believe my eyes, they were fist bumping each other as they smirked in contentment. Who could do that?

"Stop!" I shouted, they fell silent as everyone turned to the sound of my voice.

Even the unknown, tortured person stopped screaming and writhing at the sound of my voice.

The five men looked at one another and then laughed. I obviously had made it worse.

"Did you hear that? She wants us to stop." A blonde man said between laughs. He had a British accent that was confirmed when another cried out.

"Is your posh English ears dirty? We all heard!" He gasped.

I leaned back into my chair as one of them came closer.

"This one looks familiar." He said as he stroked my face.

I snarled and jerked my head away. "You stay away from me and leave that person alone." I snapped.