Wolverton Falls

07. Only Scratching the Surface

MAGGIE BEGAN TO wake up.

As she did, recent memories came in like gates opening a catastrophic flash flood. One word, a name, seemed to crash through the whirlwind of flickering images.

Max.

Maggie was slowly becoming aware of her senses. She became aware of the hard, cold floorboards that lay underneath her. The chill air escaping through the gaps of wood, lingering musky odours and low confusing murmurs resounding through the area she was in.

Her cold fingers twitched, and her numb legs curled as Maggie slowly, achingly, pushed her upper body up off the hard ground. Maggie's slim arms shook and quivered as laboured breaths heaved their way out of her chest.

The noises got louder. She peeled her brown eyes open; frightened and unaware of her whereabouts.

Something – a door – suddenly swung open and hit the wall with force. Maggie flinched at the noise, her heart pumping with fright.

Fluorescent light flooded in, dissipating all the darkness in a mere second. Her eyes automatically closed from the brightness in the room. Slowly, her eyes reopened and like a camera zooming and focusing on its' lens, her vision cleared.

Standing near the door was a recognisable figure. Even with shadows casting over his face, Maggie could manage to see the wicked grin plastered on his face.

"Finally, you're awake," His enthusiasm was sardonic; amused. "I was beginning to get worried. You've been asleep for almost eighteen hours."

She glared at this man. Maggie wanted to curse him for what he had done. He dragged her away from her brother, who she needed to save from the onslaught of flames. Because she had lost her last family member.

"Fuck you," She spat, but her horse throat made her words falter – appear weak.

He grinned maliciously, his eyes deadly. "I wasn't expecting that. I thought you'd at least come out with the classic 'what do you want?' or 'why am I here?' questions," He drawled on. "Perhaps cry a little," He laughed darkly. "That will come later, I suppose."

Maggie shuddered violently, realising she has now encountered a serial kidnapper – and the murderer of her brother.

Emmett took an abrupt step toward her, his arm shot out to grip her upper arm and hauled her up to her feet. Her tired legs trembled from being still for so long, her body clashed against his warm one. She attempted to shove Emmett away, but his bruising grip only haltered her frantic efforts.

He hauled her out of the room and into a dim hallway. The walls were made from logs of dark wood and black kerosene lamps were scattered across the perimeter of the floors. It was void of any other life, but she now realised she was in a cabin.

Several closed doors flashed by her until they reached the end of the hallway. A heavy metal door stared right back at her and she felt her blood run as cold as ice.

Not stalling for another second, Emmett continued to pull her through the door, pushing it open. The brute manoeuvred her roughly down the steps, grunting as he slammed the door behind him. With a hard shove to her back, Maggie let out a cry as she tumbled down the stairs and hit the ground. Her body slid across the cold cement and smacked against the other side of the room; her head collided against the wall behind her.

Maggie groaned in agony and gingerly held her hand up to the wound. She could feel the warm, sticky blood coat her fingertips.

Shaking and with tears stinging in her eyes, Maggie peered up at Emmett. He stood there with a smug expression, hands wound behind his back and hair fallen over those cruel eyes she loathed so much.