CONDEMNATION ✓

Chapter 9

Two hours. Two mind number hours of lie-filled casual talk, you were starting to get stir-crazy, not that you'd let that show. You had migrated from your distance to a seat on the floor right in front of Chase. He had become considerably less tense and began to speak about the most pointless things. He reminisced about his wife and daughter, though when you stated--

'You must love her very much.'

He went silent again. Trouble in paradise, and by the way his eyes darted. It seemed like perhaps he wasn't the most faithful man. Ha, were men ever? This meaningless banter was getting you nowhere, time to change the approach. Burying your face into your knees, you rubbed your forehead against the top of your jean-covered legs. You let your shoulders shake and rumble. Sniffling your nose and keeping your eyes from blinking to force tears to the surface. You started to cry.

"I just want to go home..." you whined, like a frightened child as you hugged your knees to your chest and tried to seem small. Inwardly though, this pathetic approach was so demeaning to you. To fall so low just for information for someone that you despised. Perhaps part of you took it as a challenge. However, you wanted to prove you were capable. "Leanne. It's alright." His fatherly instincts seemed to kick in as his deep voice dropped to a whisper. The chains binding him back rattled as he tried to inch closer to your weathering frame. "We can get out of here together." He said promisingly.

"How can I even trust you?" You tried, adding another sniffle of your nose for effect. You whipped your head up to stare at Chase, eyes wide and begging for help. "What if you're working for them? You won't even tell me why you're here!" You raised your voice as false tears streamed from your eyes and down your cheeks, your mascara leaving trails of black as the water raced for your chin. One of the most common tricks to manipulation. A guilty person accuses you of exactly what they are guilty of. "I'm not working for them." He again tried to promise, his brows frowning as he seemed apologetic. 

"I don't believe you!" You shot your head back down and shook it. Grabbing your forearms, you tightened your grip on yourself, forcing your body to shake with counterfeit fear. You were starting to sink your teeth into this man; you didn't have to look to tell he was falling for your play. "Okay. Okay." A sigh left his lips as he finally broke. Jackpot. "I'm with an organization called  D.F.C.I." His rustic voice dropped to a low whisper as he pulled his body forward as far as he could in his restraints. 

Releasing your grasp, you pulled your head back up and began to drag your wrist under your eyes, whipping away your tears. You took a deep breath through your nose and held it for a moment, acting as though you were loosening up to his admittance and offering up some more trust. "What do these guys want with you?" Your lower lip pouted out, keeping your eyes moist. A sad kitten wants nothing more than to be protected and saved. At least, that's how he saw you. "They want me to rat out my boss." He explained, releasing a deep breath. Lowering his head, he hid his eyes as shame lingered behind charcoal eyes. He was going to shut back down again. "What did your boss do? Why are these people mad at him?" God, you did sound like you were fucking-five; it made you internally want to gage. 

"I don't know all the details. I'm just a lackey, but..." His tongue slipped out of his lips and moistened them. His eyes began to dart around the room as if looking for cameras or hidden mics, which you had already done upon arrival. As far as you could tell, the room was clean. "What I do know is... the D.F.C.I is a drug company. They sell millions in pharmaceuticals each year." 

"B-But... that's a good thing. They're helping sick people...?" You dropped your hand, letting it fall back to its place wrapped around your curled knees as you looked up at him, begging him to give you more information so that you could 'trust' him. "Not exactly..." His head lowered, staring down at his lap in sorrow. There it was. The secret you needed, hiding just behind one last wall of defense. Unfolding your legs, you cross them in front of you. Reaching out, you placed your hand atop his knee, letting your thumb brush against the fabric of his slacks, sweetly trying to calm him and extend your trust. You were so close. 

"Last year they... they released a large supply of corrupted medication. At first, we thought it was an accident. However, when the press comforted the company to fix the issue, they denied their involvement and began to pull resources to save their ass." He rolled his head back to you; his lids hung low as his shoulders slumped. "They focused all their attention on getting lawyers that would get them off, and hired hitmen like me to protect the four people in charge of the corrupted drug deal." 

"Why would these guys care about that?" You questioned, slowly pulling your hand back to yourself as you let your hues fill with wonder. You tried to display sympathy for Chase. Assured it was fake, you should have gone into acting. "Maybe because... 4,500 people died and 1,200 were permanently disabled due to this deliberate medication distribution?" There it was, the golden ticket. Still, you proceed to ask one final question. "Why would you protect people who would do that?" Slowly you began to get up off the floor, standing to your full height and looking down at him. He kept his head low, not having the will to look you in the eye and see your disappointment. Though, inwardly you couldn't give two shits less. 

"Money..." 

Of course, the route of all evil. His voice came out as nothing more than a whisper, but you still heard his plea for working for such shit people so clearly. You helped peddle illegal drugs yourself, but you didn't deceive people into believing they were anything more than what they were. They knew what they were buying if they bought from you; what they did with it was not your business. There was a silence that filled the room as your hands dropped back to your sides. You took in a deep breath and let it back out slowly. A devious smile finally crept across your face, though Chase never looked up to see the mischievous grin that crawled across your lips. 

"Let's get you out of here." You said, turning on your heel as you started to walk behind him. He rattled the chains around his wrist, likely assuming you would try and free him. 

You stopped behind him, dead center of his back. He couldn't turn back and look at you, but you could tell by how his body seemed to spring to life that he was getting hopeful. Reaching behind yourself, you grabbed a small black Kel-Tec PF-9 handgun from the small of your back. Having skillfully taken it off Mono when you managed to steal a cigarette from his pocket. You questioned if he even realized it was gone. Steadying your arm, you pointed the pistol at the back of his head. 

"Too bad, it's gonna be in a body bag, Chase." You shrugged your shoulders. You barely heard the 'What?' come from his lips before you pulled the trigger and watched blood spray out in the direction of the door, bits of his brain going with the bullet that went clean through his skull and embedded into the door ahead. Steal? Ha, of course. His body instantly went limp, and your arm raised, pointing toward the door. Someone would have to walk through that door after hearing the sound. Who? You weren't sure. All you knew is you had the information they wanted and a weapon to demand your freedom. Either they'd exchange the info for your release, or Chase wouldn't be the only one to die tonight. Inwardly you knew it could very well be Mono that would be the first to open that door. He had abandoned you, locked you up against your will, and kept you from freedom. If it came down to it, you'd also put a bullet between his eyes; you refused to be caged any longer.