Chapter 3

I was brought back to the basement, as I believe it should be called, and the red boots, what I have chosen to call her guards- Kitty's guards, had instructed me to take off my overalls and take a shower. Once again, it wasn't a peaceful shower and it was starting to piss me off that they would beat me up for no reason, it seemed they took pleasure in it. When I was done with the shower, they handed me a neatly folded black overall similar to the one I had been wearing before, since the day I got here. 

Today, the basement had been different. A few days ago when I had been brought here it was an open floor, with only the shower but now, besides the shower was a square brown table and two chairs, across from each other. After getting dressed they had forced me to sit and wait, their eyes on me and I simply put my hands behind my back as I closed my eyes, meditating and wondering where the hell my brother was. 

I only opened them when I heard a chair moving across the floor as I met the brown eyes and dark face which belonged to Kitty, as I have been taught to call her. 

She wore full black again and her red thigh high heeled boots seemed brighter than the other day. Her shoes contrasted with the dark room as she sat down across from me and put her hands on the table, her eyes meeting mine and I leaned forward, moving my hands from behind the back of my head, but one of the red boots slapped his baton on the table, stopping me. 

I glared up at him, holding eye contact as my jaw ticked, they were starting to get on my nerves. 

"Think of me as your confidant, someone you can trust, someone you can tell your secrets to," she began, and my eyes broke away from that specific guard as I looked at her again. 

She is beautiful. 

"This place," she began as she pointed her hands around, but I knew she meant the building we were in, "this place can make you lose your mind and feel alone," her voice caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand, "and I'm here to help you and be there for you." 

"I'm sorry, was that supposed to make me feel comfortable?" I asked her, even though my voice was levelled, the words were harsh. 

"How are you finding it here?" She asked me, ignoring my comment. 

I kept quiet, not willing to waste my breath, I didn't know what I was doing here and quite frankly, I preferred Mason's talkativeness. 

She didn't seem to expect an answer and therefore just moved on as though I wasn't ignoring her, "I know you don't trust me," she began, "but it'll help to talk, about anything, really." 

I kept quiet, pursing my lips as I expected the guards to hit me for not listening to her but they made no movement. 

She too fell silent after that, just watching me, watching her. If I hadn't been so skilled I would have thought she were a statue because she seemed so perfectly still, so perfectly relaxed yet stiff, her posture perfect, sitting and looking like a lady. She looked like she was conducting an interview, or she were the boss, which maybe she was. 

Her breaths were laboured, her eyes giving nothing away and so I concentrated on her features instead. I couldn't get over her beauty, her skin seemed to be gold, raw gold, and the sun hit it perfectly every time. 

I understood why Mason talked about her as much as he did, and even more than once had pleasured himself, rather very loudly if you ask me, grunting out her name and then talking to me about how he can't believe that he's been surviving on his hand for the past year. He would then be embarrassed that I had heard his entire session, defend himself and talk about how many women he used to bed a week. 

It made me grimace, did he not know of diseases? STDs, HIV? All that shit was real, and it unnerved me that it seemed nowadays men gave a way to that. They could infect some naïve girl out there, yes they're not all innocent, but to destroy someone's life by giving them some sickness, to me always stopped me from doing what most guys do. Of course, certain girls do carry these diseases as well, but I have always blamed men for its development. To me, a man is the one who passes on that... curse to the woman. 

I kept to my thoughts, and she sat across from me, eventually just tapping her fingers on the table as she waited until it was time for me to leave, my hour was up with her and it couldn't have come at a better time. 

I was no fool, I knew that the minute I told her anything, Carter would know about it before the sun set. 

Mason watched me as I entered the room, taking off the mask and walked to my bed. 

"Do you trust her?" I asked him. 

"Kitty? No," he replied, "but I get very lonely," he admitted, sounding sad and I looked at him, seeing that indeed he wore a sad expression, "I know she tells Carter everything but, it feels good to be able to talk to someone and them respond to you. I mean, I'm not saying I don't enjoy talking to you," he said quickly, "I'm just saying that you're not really the talkative type so I get really bored." 

"Who else gets these showers?" I asked him as I got off my bed, tired of the thin mattress and instead slid down to the cold floor, the room feeling hot compared to the basement which had fans and windows.

"Only us," he responded as he joined me on the floor and I glanced at him, not bothering to say anything to him. 

I was low on patience and needed to get out of here, I needed to get out of this place and I know it's only been less than a week of being here but it felt like an eternity. I have never been caught before, and I definitely did not think it would ever happen. I had the best security, the best guards, hell I didn't even need them, I knew how to fight, but somehow I ended up in a room with a talkative buff man who masturbated a bit too often. 

I had confidence in Axwell finding me, I just didn't have confidence that it would be soon. He was always my saviour especially when I needed him, even though he left this business, he was there for me when things got bad. 

I could hear Mason talking, and when I came out of my thoughts I could hear he was singing, quite terribly, but singing a song under his breath, his eyes looking at the ceiling, looking lost and out of this place. 

He had moments like these, I'd say twice a day, in the morning and later on in the day as he sang and looked up at the ceiling. It was the only peace and quiet I got with him. 

I wondered why he did this but didn't ask because I felt it was not my place, also, I was kind of nervous he might not be mentally stable and this was him coping with his mental state. 

I closed my eyes again, listening to his voice and then blocking it out as I gave myself a moment of silence. 

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