Rescue

Rated Teen for Language and Violence.

 

Theodore

 

The cafeteria crowded with its usual noise, the overly cheerful sound of employees laughing and the happy hum of voices. I didn’t want to be here, in the midst of these carefree people. There was a sick feeling at the pit of my stomach, and I felt queasy. I seated myself at the table farthest away from everyone. I needed sometime alone to think.

What are they going to do to Mia? Are they going to take her back to her home? Are they going to murder her? Where is she now? What is she doing? More importantly, what are they doing to her?

I’d left her alone. I had let them take her away. I had let her down.

What kind of friend was I?

Then someone slapped my back so hard I felt like my ribs must’ve cracked and sat down in front of me, snapping me out of my moping.

“Yo! What’s up, man?” Mike was like your typical basketball player, tall and strong, with hard, muscle-packed arms. “Why d’ya look so down, bro?”

“It’s nothing,” I took a sip of the latte I bought at the café, staring at the dull gray of the carpet, “It’s just…you know, I’m tired of this. All this work...it's...ugh.”

“Yeah, they overwork you, man. You should get a raise, especially after the business with that girl. It’s not your job, but you did it anyway. The boss thinks you did it well. How did you turn her up sweet? I only heard rumors, man, and they’re very far-fetched. I heard--”

I cut him off with an icy glare and stood up so suddenly I nearly knocked my latte over. I didn’t want to stay here and be reminded of how I lied to Mia. I stormed out of the cafeteria, slamming the door behind me.

“Look, bro, if you’re gonna be humble about it, I can shut up!” Mike called, chasing after me.

“Were you there to see how she cried? Were you there when she was taken away, screaming and kicking and sobbing? Did she call your name and curse you by heaven and hell?” I whipped around to face him, exploding with all the anger I’ve tried to keep inside me all morning long, “Did she call you a liar?”

Mike looked taken aback, and I didn’t blame him. Never before have I been so out of control, so unrestrained and emotional. He was staring at me, wide-eyed.

“Hey, you alright, man?”

I was shaking. I hated myself, hated what I did to Mia, hated that I had lied to her.

“I loved her. I still love her. But now it’s too late.”

He was silent. I stared out the glass windows stationed on either side of the rectangular corridor that led to the offices. It was raining outside, the sky a shade of blackish-gray. The sun was gone, replaced instead by a heavy blanket of thunder clouds, from which the tears of heaven fell.

“You really care about her?”

“Yes,” I put my head into my hands, moaning, “More than anything else in the world. But I screwed up. I don’t even know if she’s alive, much less where she is.”

“ She’s still alive, man, but from the looks of it, she won’t be for long. You gotta hurry. Look, if I were you, bro, I wouldn’t mess with the boss, but if you really want to do the heroics, be her knight in shining armor and whatnot and win back your girl and all that, I know some boys from the inner-inside that can get you in before you can even blink--”

“Thank you!” I interrupted him, my head snapping up, “Thank you!”

“Yeah, man, you owe me big time,” There was a mischievous twinkle to his eye as he danced down the corridor, “Oh, and be sure to keep your mouth shut. If the boss even gets a whiff of this, we’re both dead.” He pretended to have a hat and tipped it toward me and disappeared into a doorway. “You’re a good man, Ted! You shouldn’t have accepted when the boss decided to recruit you!”

 

 

Mia

I lay on the floor, tears flowing unchecked across my face. My vision was blurry and misted, and I wanted so bad to close my eyes and drift off to sleep. I was tired. Weary. Exhausted. I wanted to stay lying on the floor and sleep forever. I was drained�"how long had I been here? An hour? A day? A month? I had no way to tell. My fight with Theodore seemed such a long time ago.

Theodore.

His jacket was still around my shoulders, warming me ever so slightly. I missed him, missed the safety I had felt with him, and most of all I missed trusting him.

The door clicked open, and Travis entered, snapping me out of my stupor. “Get up,” he growled and produced a gun from behind him. I tried to stand up, tried to obey him, but I was too weak. I fell back down half way, crying, hoping he wouldn't shoot me.

“Get up!” he tried again, but when he saw that I wasn’t about budge, he crossed the room and plunged his hand into my hair. I shrieked and writhed with pain as he yanked me roughly to my feet.

“Where is it, huh?” His breath smelled like a mix of rotten eggs and alcohol, “Where the hell did you hide it, you b***h?”

I bit his hand, trying to squirm away from his grasp.

“Oh,” he laughed drunkenly, “Feisty, are we?” He hammered my head with the butt of his gun until tears of pain came to my eyes.

“Please.” My voice was hoarse from screaming and choked with tears, “Don't. Please. Stop.”

“WHERE IS IT?” He roared, repeatedly slamming my head against the stone wall.

“I don't know! I don't know!” I shrieked, “Leave me alone! Stop!”

“You worthless b***h!” He hurled me toward the wall.

I landed face first at a corner of my cell, my head slamming into the stone.

Something slimy and wet and warm began to ooze down my forehead. I collapsed against the wall, thinking that my skull must have cracked. Tears were falling again, although I hardly realized they were there.

He cocked his gun and aimed it at my head.

“Where is it?” he asked yet again.

I sobbed hysterically and buried my face into my hands, unable to utter a single syllable.

“Tell me where it is or I swear, I'll shoot you in the head!”

I just hugged my knees and sobbed even harder. I was going to die here, alone and forgotten. I'd never see Mom again. I'd never see Theodore again, either. Would these people give my remains to my mother? Or would I be left at the side of the road, an unnamed corpse? Would I have a funeral? Would people cry for me? Or, more importantly, would Theodore cry for me?

“One the count of three,” Travis threatened, “Either you tell me, or I'll shoot you.”

“One...” I squeezed my eyes shut tight.

“Two...” Oh, god, please, let it be quick.

“Three...” I braced myself for the impact...

Bang!

Author's Note

Not my very best, I know, I could've done better. :D I know I shouldn't swear (really, check my portfolio out. I seriously have not sworn once in any piece of writing. At least not by today's standards), but Travis seemed to have that type of character. He also seemed unnecessarily violent, and that's why I made him that way. Okay, this was a super intense scene to write, and it was super hard to name!!!! It is sort of a pre-Arguement scene (remember that chapter I titled Arguement?), except it's first person.

So, what does Mike seem like to you? (I mean the above character. :)) I want to know if I made the right impression with his dialogue!!!

And speaking of dialogue, how is the sense of reality in the dialogue as a whole? Would people actually talk this way?

And also, if I were to continue this and make this a book, do you think I'd do better in third person or first person? I switched point of views in the middle......