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ALIZE
I've losttrack of how long I've been here.
There are no windows, no clocks, only the pesky live feed on the screen which doesn't even have a timestamp. It's been hours though, at least. It's still night time, as the streetlights are still on in the footage, and the cars zipping by on the street have their headlights on.
The street is devoid of pedestrians.
We're either in an upscale neighborhood where everyone drives to where they need to be, or we're in a really bad one where people don't risk being out this late. I would bet on the former, judging from the row of townhouses on the other side of the road. They look rather historic.
My hands have gone numb from the rope holding them in place. Every part of my body aches, but the pain is concentrated in my head, my ankle and some of my fingers. I'm certain something's broken, or at least sprained.
And to make matters worse, I need to pee.
After his outburst, Laurent excused himself from the room. He went up through the single door in the room, and hasn't returned since. I don't see him on any of the little screens, so I can't be sure where he went.
But I can see myself on one of them, so I'm sure he can see me.
My head is against my chest, the smell of dried blood making me light-headed. I feel pathetic, above all else. Alexander gave me a gun and I couldn't even protect myself with it. Despite knowing that Laurent had sent me to my death, it never fucking clicked that he couldstilltry to kill me.
And now to find out that he kidnapped me because of my father?
Gosh, I think I'm going to be sick.
He's using me as bait, but what is he going to do when my father never shows up? It's clear as day that this is a set-up. My blood grows cold at the thought that he might kill me after a while.
On the off chance my fatherdoesshow up, it's still going to be a shitshow. Michel Moreau isn't a forgiving man, and I've already pissed him off by reneging on our plans to meet up. Meeting underthesecircumstances? I'm sure my father won't kill me, but he'll do everything else.
I swallow thickly.
My only hope is that Alexander will find me before him.
I straighten in the chair a bit, hoping the change in my posture will ease the pressure on my bladder. I've barely ever told Alexander about Laurent. He was always just the "uncle who sent me away." I never even told him he sent me to SFU to die, because that would have meant telling him that I had been talking to my father.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
If I get out of this alive, I'm never keeping secrets from him again.
I have to think of something.
"I really need to use the bathroom," I say after another few minutes.
I'mthisclose to peeing on myself. I'm holding my head up, trying to find the camera in here. I have no idea if it even transmits audio, but it's worth a shot.
Nothing.
The camera must be in the dome light hanging from the ceiling. I turn my face to it, and sure enough, I'm facing it when I flick my eyes back to the screen.
"Please," the word is bitter in my mouth, but I'm so close I would beg if I need to. "I need to use the bathroom. I don't want to pee on myself."
That would be beyond dehumanizing.
My chest tightens as reality settles on my shoulders. I can already feel myself spiraling into panic, so I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to take deep breaths of the stuffy, pungent air. Being calm is my last way of protecting myself.
If I'm not calm, I can't seize any opportunities that may come my way.
I have to be calm. I have to be brave.
While I'm talking myself down, I hear a key scratching the lock.
