2. Someone is watching.

Dymond.

Three days in this "cell" is enough to send my mind to the verge of crumbling into insanity.

It is cold in here, the walls are impersonal. And the stares of the security men do not make it better. The entire situation still feels like a whirlwind to me.

I was broke, hungry and desperate. And all I did was steal a piece of jewelry, just like I have done countless times in the past six months. But I have learned during my stay in here, that the diamond I stole belongs to a very powerful, ruthless and wealthy billionaire, Nile Garres. 

I had thought the diamond was a regular one, until I heard one of the guards saying it was mined from an asteroid. Well, I finally messed up.

How was I to know, anyway? It looks just like a normal diamond, only bigger and shinier.

Actually, it felt really heavy in my pockets as well, in the thirty minutes when it was in my possession before I got captured. But after meeting their employer, I am not one bit sorry for stealing from him. The guy is unbelievably arrogant and entitled.

I have to beg for my freedom?

Why does he not just throw me in jail? Maybe that would have been to my benefit, anyway. Because it seems only prison can save me from my miserable life.

I shift my wrists against the cuffs, but not too hard, so I do not bruise myself. Since I got locked in here, the guards only bring in food and watch me eat, thrice a day. The same food, every time. I realize now that it is some type of punishment technique. A female guard takes me to a bathroom to ease myself at intervals, but never let me take a shower.

So I am currently sitting in a cold metal chair, wearing the same dress and underwear for three days, and going mad from the silence.

The door suddenly opens, and the head security guard called Mike walks in holding some keys.

"Mr. Garres has ordered your release." He says monotonously, unlocking the cuffs around my wrists. 

I am speechless with shock, watching his movements with wide eyes. That arrogant boss of theirs really told him to let me go? Suspicion slithers into my mind and I back further into my chair, shaking my head,

"Don't touch me! Are you guys trying to take me somewhere to kill me?"

Mike arches an eyebrow, "Mr. Garres just has no time for petty criminals like you. You being here is more of a nuisance to him than stealing his jewel."

I scoff, incredulous. And above all, in disbelief. Something just seems too fishy about the way he is letting me go just like that.

All of a sudden, I see him slip out a white towel from inside his inner pocket. My eyes widen in recognition and I try to lunge away from him. He is unfortunately too fast. One big arm locks around my shoulders and upper arms, completely immobilizing me. 

I struggle and try to scream, but his hand presses the towel against my mouth and nose, cutting my scream off.

A foul chemical makes its way into my airways almost instantly, and my struggle immediately grow sluggish. My eyelids droop without my consent, and I am still trying to scream when I completely go unconscious.

The rocking of a vehicle rouses me out of my drug induced slumber, and I blink sluggishly, looking around slowly. All of that grogginess snaps off when I see two men in suits on either side of me, in the backseat. And Mike is driving.

"Where are you taking me?! This is illegal!" I scream anxiously. "How dare you drug me?!"

Something about my words seem to be amusing to them, as I catch grins and smirks appearing on their faces.

Mike swerves sharply into a rowdy street, and stops the car.

"Now." He says.

I am confused, until one of the guards at my sides opens his seat door and steps out, yanking me out along with him. He pushes me towards the streets and gets back in, slamming the door shut. Just like that, the car sped off. I am standing in the asphalt dust, staring after them, completely stunned.

I am free? They just let me go? 

I am not sure what is actually happening, but I will not wait for the to change their mind and come back to recapture me. Hurriedly, I turn away from the spot and try my best to blend in with the crowd.

The night life seems to be at its peak, with streetlights, roadside stalls selling street food, and young people laughing and making videos of themselves having a good time.

That life is nothing like mine.

I push myself to move forward, not sure where I am headed, but I just have to make sure I don't leave a trail. I am experienced in hiding myself when I don't want to be found, so it is pretty easy for me to do this.

I did spend the last six months on the run, after all.

After what seems like an hour, I am breathing hard and in a completely different area. It is still crowdy, with noise and laughter, and that is perfect. But that does not stop fear from filling my veins because I know that soon, the streets will get more deserted and more dangerous for a woman to be roaming about all alone.

I have no money, no shelter for the night, and desperation clawed at me.

Out of habit, I find myself looking over my shoulder too many times as I came up with a plan to steal some wallets from random people in the crowd. I could make a few dollars to help me get off the streets for the night, at least.

I am so invested in my thoughts that some group of girls bump into me, and I get shoved sideways.

"Watch where you're going, homeless freak!" One of them snaps at me, and the rest giggle, simultaneously shooting me dirty looks as they walk past.

I am about to remind them that they bumped into me, when I register what she called me.

Homeless freak.

For the first time, I remember what I must look like to them. Dirty clothes, ruffled hair that has not been washed or brushed in three days. I basically look homeless. Still, their words sting, and I protectively place my hands around myself as if to hide my appearance.

My fingers feel something strange within the fabrics of my dress. Thin, stiff, like thick paper. That is the spot where my hidden pocket is.

I quickly shove my hand in and pull out the strange object. It is an envelope. I frown, because I do not remember putting this in there. The only thing I had placed there is the stolen diamond, and the guards quickly found it and took it away. 

I pause. Could Mike have put this in my pocket while I was knocked out?

I turn the envelope over, and see the initials N.G printed at the edge. Nile Garres.

For some reason, my heart begins to race. I tear the envelope open and peer inside. What meets my eyes makes my jaw drop, because I have never seen a wad of cash this crisp, and huge for a very long time.

It is money.

Why will someone I stole from let me go scot free, and still give me money?

It makes no sense, but I do not need it to make sense, because I am already moving down the street, towards the nearest hotel. I ignore the stares following me as I walk up to the reception and ask for a room for the night.

"Of course, Miss. Please wait in the reception for a moment while we prepare a room for you." The receptionist smiles, trying not to stare at my disheveled state.

I nod, and turn around. Instead of going to sit on one of the couches, I cross over to the other door that led to some type of restaurant. I fill my belly with a hearty meal, and go back to the reception afterwards.

When I am finally taken to my room, I lock the door and move to shut all the windows and blinds. I usually do not take rooms on the first floor, for safety reasons, but now I do not have much of a choice as there were barely any other rooms available.

After I am sure my room is secure, I move into the bathroom to take a very long, and deeply relaxing bath. With my freshly washed hair wrapped in a towel, and my body wrapped in a bath robe, I step back into the bedroom.

The tiredness from the craziness of the past few days is finally catching up to me, and my bones sag in my own flesh as I stumble to the soft bed. All my body wants is sleep, but I know I will never sleep peacefully unless I make out my plans for tomorrow.

I can not stay in this hotel, or any hotel, longer than one night. Staying here is already a high risk, tomorrow, with the rest of the money, I have to head to the outskirts of the city. There I can spend a few days before I have to move again.

Thinking so hard, even while tired must have caused me to doze off, because the shrill sound of the telephone ringing suddenly jolts me awake.

I stifle my gasp, then reach for the telephone, wondering why the hotel staff would be calling by this time.

"Hello?"

"Miss, you are entitled to a limited spa offer, courtesy of the hotel. I was wondering if you would like a late night spa session, all for free?" The receptionist's voice comes in.

I sigh softly, "No, thank you."

"Alright, Miss. Have a good night."

The call ends, and I sink back into the bed, deciding it is better to get a good night rest so I can be more alert tomorrow. Pulling the sheets over my body, I snuggle into the pillows and slid my eyes closed.

But in the last split second, I catch something from the corner of my eye. My eyebrows furrow, and I move my eyes around, trying to figure out if I had really seen a tiny red light. I slowly sit up on the bed, stomach churning.

I have the habit of thinking I have seen things that could threaten my safety, even when I might be in a secure place. I do not blame myself, because that habit was born out of paranoia and trauma.

I have every reason to be paranoid.

But now, I am sure I had caught a glimpse of a tiny red dot from the light in the middle of the ceiling. Looking at it now, I can not see anything unusual.

I shiver, realizing that I had forgotten to do my routine checks in any room I sleep in.

When I stepped into this hotel room, I only locked the doors and windows. I did not check for anything strange.

That is a big mistake. Now, I regret being that careless.

With a gulp, I reach for the light switch on the wall beside my bed, and turn the lights off. I narrow my eyes and watch the lamp on the ceiling more closely. And it is right there.

A tiny red dot of light, coming from deep within the lamp. It is staring back at me. 

My heart thunders, as a deathly cold run over my entire limbs. It is a camera. There is a camera right inside that light bulb, silently watching every single one of my movements.

It has been there, from the moment I stepped into this room.

The terror that seizes me, as I stare at the red dot in the darkness, is one of its kind.

Someone was watching me.