Blood

The Contract (15)

Not the most interesting of chapters I am afraid but I am just adding in those boring but neccessary chapters at the mo'! I will be delving deeper into war, action and maybe some romance soon so just hold in there!

Any suggestions about writing quality? That's my main concern though thoughts around the plot are also appreciated!

Thanks! Enjoy!

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My eyes opened grudgingly and I found myself still in the small hospital room, my arms crossed on the bed where I had been resting my head. My body groaned from the awkward position in which I had slept in, making my stretches rather painful as I straightened and my senses felt blurred and tired.

The woman lay still in her bed where she had died hours earlier and my face felt crusty thanks to the tears which had now dried. I felt another wave of emotion roll through me and I only just managed to supress the sadness.

“A drink?”

I looked up to see Vincent towering above me, his gold eyes gleaming with energy.  An air of weary sadness hung about him but his eyes almost managed to hide it.

I nodded and he poured me a glass from the jug at the corpse’s bedside before handing it to me.

I glugged it down, not tasting it at all and let out a heavy sigh before rising, the bones in my legs clicking audibly.

“We have to talk,” Vincent said.

“Now?” I asked politely.

He nodded and beckoned to me before leaving the room.

I followed after him, pausing at the door and turning to see the dead bag of bones which was the woman I had tried to save. A tear escaped my tight grasp over my emotions and I quickly wiped it away, turning and departing not able to see the woman anymore.

Vincent guided me to a small room and pulled a chair out for me before sitting.

I sat down, entwining my fingers together nervously as I took in my surroundings.

The room was dark like the majority of others and its only source of light was a small paraffin lamp on the table I was sat in front of. The walls appeared to be covered in patterned wallpaper which looked like it had seen better days and otherwise, the room was empty.

“What do you use this room for?” I asked, my nose wrinkling at the strong smell of damp.

“Interrogation,” he replied making me flinch.

He took out a ripped sheet of paper and pen before scribbling something on it and looking up at me.

“I have a series of questions which I require you to answer truthfully.”

Now where had I heard that before? I thought sarcastically.

What’s happening? Monique suddenly whispered in my mind.

Just listen, I sighed.

“Shall we begin?”

I nodded, crossing my legs as I tensed.

“You stated your name was Isabelle Turpin. I know your name, why did you lie in the first place?”

“Safety, I didn’t know you,” I hedged.

He nodded, writing something on the wrinkled paper.

“How old are you?”

I’m eighteen in five months, Monique piped up.