Day 115 – Half Hour Hitman – Part 5

Dedicated to my awesome boyfriend who will of course totally keep what I wrote on his website up on his website. www.365songs.co.uk

I’m tired. Very, very tired.

Word count: 769

Birds. Any woke to birds twittering. A black cloth had been died around his eyes; all he could make out were patches of light as the daylight streamed in through from outside. All else was black.

Andy seemed to be tied to a chair. His captor had made sure that there was no likelihood for escape and had tied Andy’s ankles to the legs of the chair as well as his arms behind his back. He couldn’t move; the bonds were so tight he could barely breathe. The one odd thing about it all, though, was that he was not gagged.

Andy listened out for a sign that someone else was there. It was difficult, not knowing whether he was alone or if someone was but inches away.

“Hello?” he said cautiously. He was groggy from the drugs he’d been given. His mouth tasted of dry rust. He could not quantise his thirst.

Andy waited for a response. None came; but was he truly alone?

The birds outside had flown on. He heard the wind creaking against the windows. This must be the same building he had been in earlier. The same musty smell as was in the other room lingered in there air here too.

Andy tried jumping. The chair scraped against the floor. He tried this a few times; each time chancing the danger that he would be overheard. Andy was very wary by now; he was making too much noise, he could tell. Even though he might very well be alone in this grand old room, there was no assurance that he was not being over heard. At that point, Andy thought he might be able to topple the chair and try and break the frame. He leant all his bodyweight towards one side. It was almost working – he could feel the legs of the chair lift from the floor – and then –

A phone rang. Its ringtone was as clear as if it were only a few centimetres away. Andy froze.

It took a few seconds for the phone to be answered.

“Hello,” the deep voice said and Andy instantly recognise him as his captor.

Andy gulped. He had been watched the entire time. Why had he not tried to stop him?

“No,” the man said.

Andy wished he knew who the man was talking to: was it the people who’d hired him; was it his family, girlfriend, flatmates, friends? Who was this man that was keeping him locked away? Who was this man that had taken him to this grand house and tied him, blindfolded, to a chair and watched silently as he tried to escape?

A creak in the floorboards meant the man was drawing nearer. Andy could now hear a squealing voice at the other end of the telephone – though he could not make out who it was.

“He’s alive,” the man said before shoving the phone against Andy’s ear.

“Help! Please, help! He’s.. he’s holding me.. I don’t know why… please – it’s an old house – I don’t know where – please -”

The man grabbed the phone back from him.

“So you can see, he is still alive.”

There was a beeping noise and Andy guessed that the man had hung up.

“Why are you doing this?” he shouted desperately at the man, “Why? Who’s paying you? I don’t know you? I haven’t done anything to anyone!”

Andy could feel the man’s presence drawing nearer. Little did he realise behind his black opaque mask was that he was now face to face with his captor. Andy breathed heavily, angrily.

“Are you thirsty?” the man said.

Andy was taken aback, “Yes..”

The sound of water being poured into a glass met his ears.

“Here,” the man poured the cooling liquid into his mouth.

Andy was in heaven. His mouth had never felt so dry – his heart was absorbing every droplet of happiness.

“Done?”

Andy nodded and the man took the glass away.

“Why are keeping me here?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Andy felt sick as he waited for an answer.

“No, but someone wants to.”

It was as if he had spent the past few days locked in denial. Now that it was confirmed that there was a price on his head, he could not accept it; he could not fathom it; he had always been kind, gently. He was not mixed up in drugs; he did not owe anyone any money.

“Who? Who’s trying to kill me?”

But all he heard in reply was a door slowly closing behind a man who had just left the room.

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~ by S.G. Mark on January 30, 2012.

One Response to “Day 115 – Half Hour Hitman – Part 5”

  1. cool start, I’m intrigued.

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