The Beast’s Exception

2. I don’t know no Atulo

Update, I wasn't dead.

I woke up 15 minutes ago in the back of a vehicle, duct tape sealed around my mouth, my hands tied.

I'm not sure which was worse, being shot dead, or being kidnapped. I quietly wondered if they had gotten Maggie too because she wasn't next to me, and why wasn't I dead?

There was one man next to me, and two in the front seats. The road ahead was dark and chilly, no street lights, no signs, nothing.

I felt a sharp pain in my waist and slowly sit up, not wanting to alarm any of them so that they'd shoot. The goon who sat next to me actually helps me sit up and his head was turned to me for a second or two, before they returned to the forward and the men in the front seats stared at me from the rear view mirror before looking back into the road.

I didn't struggle, or scream, because what was the point? I didn't know where I was, these men had some really big guns, I had just watched my friend get her head blown off, and more than likely they wouldn't hesitate to blow mine off either, so I remained quiet.

I thought back to the man in the store though. I thought back to the way he looked at me before he shot Era, like "this b***h really has the audacity to speak to me," or something to that nature.

He was scary, tattoos littering his hand from what I could see from the suit. His eyes were jet black, and I know that it's impossible, but they were!

I had absolutely no idea who Atulo was, and I still don't know now. Whoever he was looking for, he had the wrong place and most likely killed Era, Sarah and Maggie (if she was dead) for no reason. I also had no idea who he was and what type of trouble I was in, but if the show back at the store told me anything, it was that I might not make it back alive.

Tears fill my eyes as I think of Yamhead and Meatpie. Their bowls were probably empty right now and I wasn't home to refill it. I try to sniff as quietly as possibly but apparently it wasn't so quiet as the goon to the side of me, turns to look at me again.

It felt as if we were driving forever, I just wanted to stop and feel my legs, maybe pee. It was so cold in here, my tears didn't even last evening long. The blood still felt moist on my shirt, sticking to my skin.

I was miserable.

Finally, we came near a gate to a big house in literally the middle of no where, and one of the goons tap a button and the gates open. We drive up the long driveway, and come to a stop near some rose bushes.

The two at the front get out first, and one opened up my door. I comply as they grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of the vehicle. I tripped over something, and surprisingly, they stopped to help me get myself together. A vehicle pulled up behind us but I didn't get a chance to look because we were practically inside the house already.

The interior was black and white themed from what I could tell in the darkness. The man flipped on the lights and I squinted at the exposure. They dragged me into a dinning room and made me sit on the other end of a table.

"Stretch out your palm," one of the goons said, and I reluctantly do. He grabs it quickly, handcuffing one of my Hands to the table.

"Wait here," he says again, and they all leave. I'm left sitting in a strangers house, at a glass table. They could've at least given me some water, maybe even a cracker.

I stupidly pull in the handcuff, expecting it to fall apart but it didn't.

It felt like I was waiting forever, the clock on the walll ticking away. Every second that passed my worry for my dogs grew. I have never left them for that long, and I could on imagine what they were going through. If I died, who would take care of them? Would they starve to death?

I tried focusing on something else, like maybe a clue as to where I was, but the room was empty. The dinning table and the chairs were the only thing that filled the room beside the little decorations on the way that included the clock, a photo of a woman, and a portrait of the murderer who killer Era and Sarah.

The room smelt clean, like Febreeze and some air freshener, also the Floor seemed to be antique wood. I silently wished that I could feel it under my feet.

A door opens somewhere in the house, causing me to become alert. I sit straighter, trying to listen for whoever was coming.

His footsteps echoed as he walked towards me; I heard it before I saw him. He emerges from the darkness of the kitchen before pulling out the seat at the other end and sitting on it.

We have a stare down for what seems to be minutes before I finally break the silence.

"Is Maggie dead?"

"Yes," he replies in a neutral tone and my heart drops along with the possibility that he may let me go.

"Then why am I here?" I ask him carefully and he leans back.

"Don't tell me you'd rather be dead?" His face contorts into a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with amusement, but I found nothing funny.

"Actually, I think I do."

"Well, we'll arrange that," he says, pulling a joint from his jacket pocket, and lighting it up in front of me. He raises it to his lips, and takes a deep inhale, closing his eyes.

When he reopens them, he pushes his hand out towards me, as if offering me some but I shake my head.

"What do you want?" I ask him. He gets more comfortable on his chair, throwing a leg over the other and loosening his tie with one hand.

"Atulo Fox owes me a lot of money. I've sent lots of my men to get him . . . Peacefully, but he keeps killing them, and then sending the rest back to me."

"Sounds like your men are weak then."

"No, no, no," he shakes his head, swaying his hand in disagreement, "my men are not the issue, Atulo is."

"He is the weak one because he cannot man up and face me, so I sought out after him myself."

"And you thought you found him at the Red Label?"

"I believe that he still works there, but you all were covering for him."

"With guns pointed to our faces? Why would we do that?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, money? Maybe he was threatening all of you?"

"Look, guy, I think I would remember if someone named Atulo worked at the store. It's a pretty small place," I was getting irritated by his lack of belief.

He reached into his pocket and I gulped thinking it was his gun. I refused to be seen as a b***h, begging for her life so I stayed quiet as he pulled it out.

Only, it wasn't a gun, it was a photo.

The man slid it across the room, and it came to a stop in front of me. I look at it, confused before picking it up.

In the picture was a man who Sarah hired to work a month ago, but his name certainly wasn't Atulo.

"So you recognize him now?"

"Sure, but this man isn't Atulo," I push the picture back to him, and he raises an eyebrow, his lips pursed, "that man's name is Greene, and he quit about a week ago. Just . . . Stopped coming to work."

"Hm," the man looked away, his hand raising to stroke his chin.

He gets up to leave, grabbing the picture.

"Hey!" I stop him and he freezes, "what . . . What happens now? Can I leave?"

"Leave," he chuckles loudly, "thanks for reminding me."

He pulls out his gun and I flinch, sitting face to face with death.