Freeing Clara

13. Gaurdian Angels and Angry Demons

Trigger warning: sexual assault

Photos in hand, Najeem sat in Flint's camaro, running through possibilities. Who would hire criminals? Najeem began to think about the city he'd lived in for the past 20 years. Immigrating to America had been a difficult road and trying to build a life in it had been harder. He had met his wife while working at a horrible insurance job in the city. He hated it, the racism, the condecending tones of not just customers but coworkers. He wouldnt change it because it led to him meeting his wife, Evelyn. Evelyn was pale, small, a school teacher with thick glasses and who seemed to be socially awkward. She was the opposite of who people anticipated Najeem to be with but they didnt know Evelyn. On the inside Evelyn was a strong willed woman, ready to tell anyone what was on her mind and set people straight. Her personality, once known, made Najeem and her seem like the perfect couple. Najeem loved her. The thought of anything bad happening to her made Najeem's blood boil. His normally calm demeanor, outgoing personality was gone. He was mad, not as mad as Flint but he was still willing to do whatever it took to get information about Clara.

Flimt parked acrosd the street of the ex- chef's apartment building. His run down apartment building had trash piled on the side of it. Steam rose from the underground of the city. The dark building along with the background noise of a couple yelling at one another made Flint realize the chef was as cliche as anticipated. Greedy. Slimy. Willing to do anything to get ahead and get rich. For the salary Flint had paid him he was wondering why the chef decided to retreat to this kind of apartment. Was it debt? Was he frugile?

"You're thinking hard about how you'll get the information out if him?" Najeem asks.

"Thats not hard to think about. How to get him to come willingly is what I am considering."

"Use his pride and ego against him," Najeem chuckled.

Flint new then. The plan simple, formulating in his mind like a puzzle. A string of events however one aspect was missing. A place to keep the chef. The bar was surrounded by heavy foot traffick of the night life. Taking the chef there would be too risky. Flint knew though what he needed. A secluded place where yelling and screaming couldn't be heard. A large place, scary to outsiders. Foreign to thosd outside his inner circle.

Starting the camaro up and putting it back into drive, Flint aimed for the city's bridge leading to the outskirts of the county.

***

Clara couldnt decide if she was covered in sweat and a small breez was hitting her or if she was cold. She felt gross in her undergarmets, laying on the floor of a... actually she was a but unsure where she was. The ground felt cold and rough like concrete. The walls were rough stone and there was dirt in parts of the room. "Definitely a basement," she thought.

Her limbs ached as she stretched. And curled back up into a ball on the floor.

Suddenly her breath caught in her throat as she heard the door to the room open.

"My dear, you are in dire need of a shower and fresh clothes. Lets go," the nasaly voice of Mr. Colt shook her. It wasn't fear that gripped her. It was disgust. An annoyance. His very existence was like a needle jabbing you in your spine; the pricking was not hard enough to warant a strong reaction but the pricking was conducted so often that irritation grew to the point where you wanted to ring the mains neck for simply breathing. His voice. His eyes. The words that seeped out of him lile venom. The spew of utter bullshit that was humorous to think anyone could believe, yet pissed you off to know others somehow did.

She pushed herself to sit upright. She knew deep in her soul what she wanted most. If Flint or Cavenaugh couldnt save her, she was gonna go out by pricking a needle back into Colts spine. Just hard enough to piss him off but not hard enough for him to react irrationally. "What am I thinking? He already is irational!" She thought.