The Ones That Descend Into Misery

Black Wall

       "Guilt is cancer. Guilt will confine you, torture you, destroy you as an artist. It's a black wall. It's a thief."

~Dave Grohl

        The pain was starting to diminish just a bit. The Indian man who she still didn't know the name of, had injected her with some type of narcotics to numb the hurt. He came in and left without a word, despite how many questions she threw at him. 

        She was getting tired, but couldn't sleep. It felt like she had been in that tiny room forever, with no way of knowing how much time had gone by. That in itself was torture on top of the torment of wondering if she'd ever see Spencer and her friends again. Were they looking for her? How far away was she? Evie thought of all the information the team had gone through about the gang. There were hundreds of people on the inside of this operation. She might've not even been in Boston anymore. She could be in any state in the US. Was she even in the US?

        Evelyn reached up to her neck and felt the pendant of her necklace between her fingers. She remembered when Spencer gave it to her. They were so happy then. She didn't think it could be any better and somehow everything fell apart. Through the pain of earlier, she'd almost forgot about how her and Spencer left their relationship before she disappeared. Cringing, she tried not to remember them like that. That wasn't Spencer. It wasn't who he was. 

        Maybe I will. Spencer had said after she asked if he'd give up and leave her. Did he mean it? 

        A tear rolled down her cheek. Maybe he did mean it. Maybe he didn't even care that she was gone. 

        Evie stop. She told herself. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He loved her and she loved him. That's it. So they were fighting a bit. She was sure he was out there worried about her, and she made a pledge that she'd get back to him.

        The door burst open and hit the wall with a boom like a gun shot. Evie jumped and hissed in pain, her gunshot wound fighting through her pain killers. The man who had held a gun to her head earlier walked in, followed by a much taller man with shadows playing across his face adding sharp features that made him look dark and threatening. His dark hair was slicked back with so much grease, it was gleaming even in the dim light. He was carrying a tray of food that he threw down on the ground next to her bed aggressively, two bread rolls flying off from the impact. 

        Evie flinched at the loud sound of the tray hitting the ground. All at once, she felt a hand grab her hair, pulling her up and engulfing her in waves of shooting, stabbing pains. She yelped and squeezed her eyes shut in pain. 

        "Give me one reason not to kill the fed!" the man roared, his voice ringing and echoing off the walls. Evie tried to stay as still as possible, hoping to diminish the pain the best she could. It traveled through her side and up her spine and throughout her entire body. "It was not my orders to keep her alive!"

        "Batra insisted we keep her alive." the obvious less powerful man said from behind him. Evie opened an eye to see the same Indian man in the doorway. She'd asked his name before, but he hadn't told her. Batra. His name must've been Batra. 

        Evie was thrown back down onto her bed, rattling the frame. She would've screamed in pain, but it hurt to much to even make a sound. She just shrunk into the mattress, clutching her side. 

        "You care to explain?" the slick haired man shouted at Batra. The way he was barking at the top of his lungs didn't even make the wiry man cringe. He stared back calmly through scraggly glasses, tilting his head to the side as if he was interested in what the man was saying. "Do I need to remind you where you stand? You're nothing but a tool, old man."