Bound by Glass

13| Screw Adventure, I'm Leaving

"Who are you?" Haco promptly asked.

I frowned. "Tenna. I told you already."

We were standing in the centre of the aptly named middle room. It was pretty big, had a dim, brownish light filling it, and a big table in the centre. On the five sides of the room were closed doors which led to other chambers. The floor was made of metal, and cloths and mats hung on the walls.

Dust particles floated in the light of the single yellow lamp above the robust wooden table. The table was worn and dented, the top stained from excessive use. The wood was cracked where the veins of the tree once had run, indicating the age of the piece of furniture. A knife was thrust into the wood to hold down some papers.

The single bulb was coated in a thick layer of dust and soot, which made it emit a brownish light. In a whim, I touched the hot surface, and the dirt gave off on my finger. The lamp started wobbling on its cord, making the light scatter all over the room. Well, that didn't help the throbbing in my head at all. Apart from a mild headache, I didn't have any other fond memories of my blackout. Jinx had come by, only to glare at me and leave again. I thought I'd seen something like remorse on her face. Strange girl, that one.

I hopped on the table, my feet kicking in the air. Sitting on tables was always way more comfortable than sitting in a chair. I didn't know if that was because of my Outsider blood, or simply because I couldn't sit still.

Vace was nowhere to be seen. I asked where he was.

"He's out," Haco answered simply, splayed across the floor on his back. He was wearing brown pants and a dark green shirt, tinted with a dirty brown–a pattern everything seemed to follow. I already missed the smell of the trees and the vibrant colours of the mats inside back at camp. Everything smelled like stale air and metal in here; it was suffocating.

I watched Haco play with his daggers above his head. One slip up and they would bury themselves in his eyes.

Somehow I already knew that they wouldn't fall.

He was twirling them around with such accuracy and familiarity, it looked like he was born with them in his hands. For some reason, Haco seemed to have decided I was trustworthy awfully fast, in contrast with the rest, who still were weary around me–I understood. They didn't leave me alone for even a minute. He threw a dagger in the air, catching it with his other hand.

"You're avoiding my question," he said, grinning, pointing his finger at me.

I ignored him, and traced one of the scratches in the wood with my finger. My hair was too long—it pricked my eyes when I looked down. As soon I got my dagger back I'd cut it.

"So. Who are you? Let me guess," he said playfully. His daggers didn't slow down.

He started listing some possibilities. "Undercover Stripe. Failure Escape attempt," he looked at me, in quasi pity, "Lost little girl?" He pouted.

I held in a laugh. "No, no, and sadly, no."

"Kiddo," he said, in a way that made it seem like it was already my nickname, "Something tells me you're lying," he laughed, "Like you're some Escaped trying to get into this hellhole. Please. Don't make me laugh." He threw up a dagger again.

I bit my lip. Somehow, he was able to put his finger right on it.

His hand froze in the air when I didn't answer.

The dagger plummeted down at an incredible speed, the point straight down. My eyes grew wide when I saw he wasn't going to catch it.

At the last moment, he rolled aside, the dagger colliding with the floor, denting the ground where his head just was. It fell over and skidded over the metal floor.