Captured Innocence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Hell's Office

Submitted: August 05, 2010

Reads: 411

Comments: 2

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Submitted: August 05, 2010



Delilah woke up and found that she was incredibly cold. Her fingers and toes were numb, and she felt the tip of her nose burning from lack of heat. She pulled a single white sheet around her, trying to gain it’s warmth.

It didn’t do much good for her. Her head hurt and she felt stiff, as if she’d been lying there for hours. And she felt slightly sick, like when she’d eaten a little bit of spoiled food. Just enough to make her queasy, but not enough to make her vomit.

Though she wished she would. She didn’t like having whatever it was inside of her. But now was not the time upchuck a meal, she decided. Because she remembered everything that had happened before fainting.

Get out, the frightened girl had told her. Delilah intended on taking that advice. Because she sure as hell wasn’t about to stay. The door to the room was open. She would walk out. She stood slowly, and remembered the sheet she had.

She began to remove it until she realized she was nude. And the single sheet didn’t hide much. Her head had been hurting so badly that she just now realized she was naked. It made her feel even more sick that someone had undressed her while she was unconscious.

She just didn’t like it here.

And she wasn’t going to let her clothes being stolen stop her. After the incident that occurred, she wasn’t going to stay to be hurt again or maybe even killed. No matter what anyone thought, Delilah did have self preservation of some sort. And it was kicking in right at this moment.

So she stood and wrapped the sheet securely around her, and walked out of the room with her chin held high. Her plan was to walk out and get to her car. Then she remembered her keys had been in her pant pocket.

Alright, she’d walk down the road and wait until a police officer picked her up. Then she could tell them everything and hopefully save that girl. It was the least she could do. But she wasn’t staying. She wouldn’t end up like that girl if she had any say in it.

She walked down the hall and into what seemed to be an office of some sort. She approached the man at the counter and slapped her hand down to get his attention. "Where are my clothes?" she asked between gritted teeth.

"Ma’am!" he exclaimed, his brown eyes wide. "Please go back to your room."

"I want my clothes." she repeated. "Give them to me or I’m calling the cops."

This new plan had been spur of the moment but it was better than walking down the street in a sheet.

"Go back to your room and I will give you the clothes-"

"That room is fucking below zero. I’ll take my clothes and put them on in my car. That’s all you need to worry about."

"I can’t let you leave." he said then stood up straight as if to finalize it.

"Fine, have it your way." she snapped. She snatched the phone off the desk and dialed a 9 before it was taken away.

"It is not necessary to call the police."

"You stole my clothes. Stealing is a crime. Therefore, I need cops to put you in jail for breaking the law. Are we catching on yet, dumb ass?" she spat.

He glared at her. "Go back to your room." he growled.

She leaned forward into his face. "Go to hell." she replied. She snatched the phone again and dialed 911 before he could take it back.

He slammed it down and hissed out a breath. "You have no idea what kind of people you’re dealing with. You should really watch yourself." he warned.

"I think the bruises I have confirm that I know very well what can happen to me. Which is why I want my clothes so I can leave. Did you even see what happened? Did anyone bother to help that poor girl? She was terrified. And I didn’t notice anyone stopping to help her out. I definitely don’t want to stick around a place like this with people like you."

His eyes narrowed. "What do mean by ‘people like you’?" he asked.

"Rude, obnoxious, belligerent, moronic, insane, demented, ass holes. Take your pick, Jack ass."she answered without a hint of hesitation. "I got a note from someone called Shane Jacobs asking me here for an interview. But after a welcome like that I’m ready to just haul ass out and drink myself into a vodka coma. So please, just give me my clothes and I promise you’ll never have to see me again."

The man’s glare turned into a grin. "You got a note from Shanen Jacobs? Why didn’t you just say so? Mr. Jacobs has been expecting you."

"I don’t care. I’m not going to see him. I told you. I want my clothes and I’m leaving."

"I’m sorry. I can’t allow that. You’ll just have to wait for Mr. Jacobs."

Delilah curled her hands into fists, took a deep breath, and looked him straight in the eyes. "One last chance. Give me my stuff."

"No." he said, then gave her a quick smirk.

She inhaled deeply again, but this time let it out in a blood-curdling scream. Someone would come, she hoped. And maybe they would be more reasonable.

"Stop that!" the man snapped.

She stopped, but only to take another breath. If he was going to be stubborn then so was she. She would scream all day if she had to.

In the middle of her second scream though, five policemen came busting through the door, weapons drawn. They looked at her, looked at the man behind the counter, and put away their guns.

© Copyright 2017 Cherie Arlavine . All rights reserved.


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