Nights Of New York- Chapter 1

Leila’s eyes flashed open. She was in a room, a small one, she could tell, from the size of the ceiling. There was something soft and familiar beneath her body and her head. She patted the empty space on her right with her hand. A mattress, she assumed. She sat upright and let the blankets slip over her shoulders and halfway across her breasts.

A deep inhale filled the small space as she realized she was naked. She scanned the room as her bare back peppered with goosebumps from the cold touch of the headrest.

The room was merely the size of her flat’s bathroom; a living hell for the claustrophobic. The air was stale, the room slightly damp. A cupboard stood on her right, a divan on her left. The divan was tinged a dull yellow, its cushions were ripped apart, the anger distinctly shown by its perpetrator. The walls of the room were all painted a sheen white, and most with scratch marks that could only be done by claw-like hands.

Aroused by curiosity, Leila kicked the covers away and paced to the wooden cupboard. Expecting to find a clean pair of clothes, she gripped the handles and pulled it open.

The only item present was a tinted mirror that leaned against the back panel of the cupboard. Although most of it was shattered, a small part of it remained. What caught her eye was its reflection: the back wall of the room that remained unnoticed earlier.

Leila turned around to face the wall.

What she saw was a canvas of menace. A door was centered in the wall with red, crooked words as a frame. The words seemed to appear larger across the wall, each describing pain and resentment. Above the door were picture frames, four of them in red, one in black. In the first four pictures were portraits of blondes and brunettes, every one of them with a large bust. They were struggling, chained to a bed that appeared exactly like the one she fell asleep on earlier.

The last frame was empty. It contained no picture of a woman whatsoever, just the wooden backing of an ordinary frame.

Leila stood in the room, the violence and vulgarity of the words caused her to falter. She could escape now, but there was no knob on the door, no latch for her to break through. It was intelligible that it could only be opened from the other side.

Before she could react, the sound of footsteps could be heard outside the room.

A basement, she presumed, by the sound of reverberating footfalls that could only mean someone or something was descending a stairwell.

She stood in front of the door, waiting for it to unlock in a moment’s time…

*

Annalee Kiryu stood outside her best friend’s flat. She was clad in slacks and a cropped blouse. A Japanese descendant from the north, her father had worked as an ecologist and her mother, a prosecutor.

Arms crossed over her chest, she responded to the detective at hand with abrupt yet relevant answers. Police officers barricaded the premises while detectives took snapshots of Leila’s home.

After weeks of ringing Leila’s mobile and telephone, Annalee had filed a report of her absence from work. Officers had searched her home but had found nothing linked to her disappearance. That day, they brought along detectives, the finest include DCIs Siven and Parker.

“So, did you notice anything suspicious going on before her disappearance?” DCI Siven enquired.

As if pondering the question, Annalee directed her gaze towards her office block and waited a few moments before answering. “No, not exactly. Why?”

“As far as we’re concerned, Miss Bridge, anything unusual could be the possible cause of this case. Has Miss Kirsten been seeing someone recently? Did she have any personal relationships?”

“I’m not certain whether she’s been seeing anyone, although, I do know that she recently broke up with her boyfriend. “

DCI Siven narrowed his eyes. “Huh. So, tell me more about this boyfriend of hers. Could you give me a name– maybe a description of him, perhaps?”

“I don’t really remember his name—Leila used to call him Baz. Or maybe it was Brad? I can’t remember, though it surely began with a ‘B’. I recall seeing him in the office before, laying down a bouquet of flowers on her desk when it was her lunch break. “ Annalee smirked at this. “He was one hell of a playboy. He had a strong jaw, an aquiline nose, and sun-kissed hair. Oh, any girl would’ve fallen for that guy. Leila was one hot mess.”

Annalee stared into the distance beyond the detective. The streets were so calm and quiet, the roads bare and empty of traffic. She smiled as she thought, I’m lucky I didn’t fall for that guy. He really shatters a girls’ heart.

After a moments’ silence, Siven leant forward to block her gaze. “Hello? You’ve not spoken in minutes. “

Snapping out of her daydream, she immediately regained consciousness and said, “I’m sorry for getting ahead of myself. I apologize for the lack of information that I’ve provided—I’ve only seen him once.”

“It’s alright, no harm done. However, I do have one last question for you. When did she last see him? In other words, when was the break-up?”

Annalee pursed her lips. “I’d say about two months ago. She had a tough time recovering, so I had to comfort her most of the time.”

A Pilot askew in his right hand, DCI Siven jotted the information provided on the clipboard in his left. He looked up and as he met Annalee’s gaze, he said, “Thank you. We might have to call you in once in a while to update the data we’ve retrieved, in the mean time, just call us if you need anything.”

“Oh, n-no problem,” Annalee stammered and reddened.

They shook hands and DCI Siven retreated to his group of detectives.

*

In the doorway stood a guy, the only one out of the five who did not speak to Leila the night of the abduction. He was good-looking: the ash blonde hair perfected the look of his oblong face, the colour of his eyes a gentle grey. His face read astonishment at the perfectly curved body that was before him.

Leila felt exposed. She reached for the pillow and hurled it at him, but it was too late. The man had already pinned her down onto the bed, his face only inches away from hers.

“Don’t,” he spoke, his voice harsh and deep. “I don’t want to shoot you.”

Leila felt the spittle on her face, the adrenaline rush through her as she said, “Who are you?”

“Max. Just… call me Max.” As he loosened his grip, red marks appeared on Leila’s arms from the sudden impact. His back facing her, he sat, fingers clasped, on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not surprised I’d find you naked,” he chuckled, breaking the silence. He turned towards Leila to find her scampering into the corner, the pillow her only protection.

Avoiding eye contact, she said, “How long have I been here?”

Max noticed the graveness of her voice. “I’d say a month. We’ve been waiting for you to get up. Damn, Clayton’s surely overdosed you. “

“What do you mean we?”

“Our squad. Y’ know, us five that night in the alley? Don’t you remember anything?” Max rolled his eyes.

Recollecting her memories, the only vision she had before appearing in this cell was a large hand over her mouth.

There was something odd about this guy, something that his other allies did not possess. Why is he speaking to me so casually?, she wondered.

“Did you… do this to me?” Leila released her grasp on the pillow, revealing scratch marks all over her back.

“Nah, that was Clayton. You didn’t give up struggling so Clayt’s gotta attack you with something.”

There was silence before she said, “Why are you here?”

“Oh, me?” A chuckle filled the room once again. “I’m just here as your companion.”