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Chapter 3

The excitement is building, the place buzzing with human activity. I know what we were attempting was tantamount to treason but not doing anything and waiting on fate was an equally worse sentence.

We could easily be caught but ironically, it was the best time and atmospher yet. Speaking of the devil and the blue sea.

I could feel the anxiety from the figure crouched in front of me,  her constant signals that I hurry up albeit, nothing short of stupidity and bordering on insanity.

"Stop demanding I hasten up, dang it woman! We have to be carefully slow and vigilant, else,  we'll surely get caught... understand?"

I saw and felt a retort brewing, but I believe my logic started making sense. Moving quickly might seem the best thing to do, but it limits our chances of escape with just one slip.

As silently as possible, we moved stealthily along corridors and halls. Ducking, crouching and  dodging, we finally made it to the entrance of our destination.
"Ok we're here. First, we must make sure no one's in the room before we go in". But suddenly everything felt wrong, eerily still. Why was she not replying? 

A cold dread overcame me, a thousand possibilities ran through my mind. Expecting nothing good, I turned around slowly, catching my breath in a gasp at the wild looking apparition in front of me.

In her hands was weapon. Where did she get that from and how come this whole setting doesn't seem to make sense?

"That, my friend, is going to be an Herculean task... for you" her voice sounded like one of those witches in cartoons I used to watch, so menacing. She advanced, I equally retreated. This unplanned samba dance continued until she had me backed against the door, lifting the bat. "This would teach you to betray your friend!"

Betray? I never betrayed her!

Too late. 

Wham!

My screams and pleas were pitiful even to my ears.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

She continued hitting me.

My head felt it would explode into a million pieces anytime soon with the amount of pain I was in. This is too much! death would be preferable to this excruciating agony she was forcing me to endure! I screamed louder, hopeful that someone might hear and help me.

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"Poor child! must be reliving whatever must have happened"

The voice sounded from afar, but equally close. A brief relief at the soothing touch of something cold, a contrast with my burning forehead.

A hand shook me gently with a soothing whisper to open up, which I obeyed. Warm liquid filled my mouth and that same voice encouraged me to swallow.

I wanted so badly to open my eyes and thank the person who cared enough to minister my wounds after what my so-called friend did to me. I tried but couldn't. It was simply too painful. Maybe I should sleep a bit, just enough rest to regain my strenght. Perhaps afterwards, the task might be accomplished with less difficulty.

It wasn't until a month later that I could open my eyes without feeling as if I was trying to lift sacks of potato with my lids. A few more days after that, I could barely whisper a few words, not full speeches, but a progress nonetheless.

The first thing I rasped was a thank you to the silver eyed,  gray haired old man who apparently was my savior.

His only response was a pained sympathetic look followed by a nod.