DYLAN

I have a hard time opening my eyes. The bright light is blinding me. I try to use my hands but it's impossible for me to get them to my face. Are they tied? I shut my eyes, then I open them as much as I can, forcing them to give form to everything that now are just shadows. Some are moving and the others just stay still.

As things finally focus into view, I see three people in front of me. At the bottom upside, there's a big square lit up which seems to be the source of the light.

I look at the floor to find my feet tied to the chair I am sitting on. Where am I? I raise my sight again till I finally find the people's faces in front of me. Three men, all of them wearing black suits. Two familiar ones; the man with the truck and the one at the cafeteria. They're on either side of the man in the middle who is quite tall with slightly curled ash-blond hair, with white skin and big blue eyes.

"Surprise," he says.

"Who are you?" I ask, looking around. I am in a warehouse or what seems to be a warehouse. Piled boxes are all over the place, covered in transparent plastic and there are more suited people around. I look back at the man that is now just three feet apart from me. "Where am I?"

"There's no need to be paranoid..." He snaps his fingers with a British accent like trying to remember something and immediately one of the others replies.

"Dylan."

"Dylan," repeats the man. "You will be fine, as long as you cooperate with us." Is he threatening me?

"What do you want?" I try to stand up but someone pulls me back from my shoulders. There wasn't even a way for me to get up. "My family won't be able to pay for the rescue."

All of them laugh. I don't know what kind of joke I am missing. "Oh no, we are not kidnapping you," the man says. I frown. "I just want what I own back..." he continues.

"I don't know what you're talking about." One of the other men approaches me. I follow him with my eyes and unexpectedly he punches me right in the stomach letting out all the air I was holding in my lungs. "What... the fuck!" I can barely talk and the pain is terrible.

"I am going to tell you what I know," says the fucking blue-eyed man. I glare at the man that punched me, standing next to me. He is tall and strong, so much that the coat he is wearing looks like it's going to tear apart with his next move. "Dylan Papasavvas, born on March the tenth in Chicago, Illinois. Son of Marienne and Hendrick Papasavvas, you have two little sisters who still live with your parents in Illinois. You live in Los Angeles in an apartment of the Griffith tower. In the mornings you work at the AM in the mall along with Kaycee Hawthorne. You practice surf on the weekends in Santa Monica with a young man from San Francisco, Levy Blanchard... does all this sounds familiar to you?" He reads all my information from a yellow folder, the same one I think I saw with the man at the coffee shop. Have they been watching me? What does Levy have to do with all this?

"I understand nothing," I reply.

"I told you what I know of you." He comes closer and bends down in front of me. "I want you to tell me what you know of me," he says, dead serious.

"I know nothing of you." I receive an electric discharge on my side that delivers me a sharp pain that makes me press my teeth. I see that it came from a little golden pen that is now held by the man next to me. "I really don't know anything!" This time I shout, desperate for someone to hear me out. I won a second one, even stronger. "What's wrong with you?!"

The man in front of me stands up and opens the folder again, he takes out a paper and shows it to me. It's a photo of Madison at the Golden Gate. Is that what I need to know of them? Her? Is she one of them? How much did she want to hide? Do they want to hurt her like they're hurting me? Have they hurt her before? What did I get myself into?

"What can you tell me about her?" he asks tapping the photo and I just stare at him. "Don't you know her?" I gulp and that earns me another punch that leaves me gasping. "If you don't talk we are going to give you enough reasons to do it, kid," he says before I get punched again.

"I... don't... know... her," I lie trying to get some air and he laughs taking out another photo. In it, Madison and I are sitting over the car's hood. Shit.

"Are you still sure you don't?" he takes the photo from my sight and this time he points at me with a gun. Oh god, this isn't happening.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?" I say weakly. I could barely hear myself over my pounding heart. "I don't know anything about that girl except for her name which is Madison."

"We are starting to progress," says the man handing the gun to the other man next to me who puts it right on my temple. I close my eyes and each fiber of my body shivers inside me. "What did you want of her?"

"I just wanted to... meet her." I open my eyes. "That's all."

"What do you know about her?" he asks.

"I already told you, absolutely nothing."

"Absolutely... nothing?" repeats the man. The gun presses more into my temple.

"Her name is Madison, and she is from San Francisco," I say trying to remember as much as I can about her. "She doesn't admire her father nor her mother," I say quickly and the gun lets go a little. The man raises his eyebrows.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Does that matter?" Another discharge.

"We will decide what matters."

"I would have known if it weren't for your man interrupting!"

"Is that right, Zimmer?" he asks looking behind and the man that interrupted us that day nods. "Let him go," he orders and the man unknots my toes and wrists. He pulls me to stand up and it is so painful that when I do I can't straighten up.

"Listen to me," he says grabbing my face in his hands. "You are going to take her on a lovely walk to Santa Monica and make her have the best day of her life... just both of you. Is it clear?"

"Why?" I ask.

"You don't make questions and you limit yourself to do exactly as we say. You're a player, right? Go and play," he orders and lets me go. I am about to comply when I remember a small inconvenience. The man smiles like reading my mind. "Is there any problem, Dylan?"

"One," I say.

"What is it?" he forces a small smile.

"Her little sister, can she..." he hits me in the face making me fall on the floor. My vision blurs but focuses back instantly, just to catch a foot coming right onto my left ribcage.

"The next time I ask for all you know, you tell me everything that you know." Another kick finishes his sentence. I am not even able to make another sound or move. I just lay here waiting for their next move. "What sister?!"

"A girl," I say. "A five-year-old, I don't know."

"What does she do?"

"What does she do?" he kicks me again. He might have broken a rib already, I don't know, but it really hurts. "I don't know what you want me to say," my voice quivers and two men made me sit back down on the chair. It hurts.

"I want you to tell me everything," he repeats.

"I already have, a girl around five years old, intelligent... way too much for her age. She asks questions about everything, she loves chocolate and obeys," I say all that I know the best I can. "She has brown hair and blue eyes."

I get another discharge on my side when I stop. It hurts so much that I let out a tear. "Why did you do that? I am talking." Another short discharge.

"Everything," says the man that caused it.

"How can I focus on feeding you the information you want when you're electrocuting me every time I open my mouth?" That only makes me get another one. They are going to kill me.

"Let's try a different incentive then," the blue-eyed man takes out the gun again and points it back at me. It doesn't seem like he'll hesitate, so I am pretty sure that if I don't give them what they want, they will shoot me. "Her wrist," says the man. "What does she have on her wrist?" I try to remember whatever I can and suddenly, it comes to me the moment I was showing her my phone. She took it in her hands and I think I saw a kind of tattoo.

"A tattoo?" I say doubtfully.

"Of what?"

"I don't know what it meant," I shut my eyes waiting for a discharge that doesn't come. "It looked like a code."

When I open my eyes again, he puts the gun down and I sigh. "Stick to the plan," he tells me. "Take her to Santa Monica and spend the rest of the day there, both of you."

"She's not going to leave her sister," I reply. He makes a gesture to someone in the back and a woman stands next to him. Straight brown hair, grey eyes, thin and the only one here not wearing a suit. Just jeans and a white blouse. Her large hair cascades over her shoulders.

"This is Veronica," he says. "You are going to introduce her as a babysitter. She's going to take care of the child while you are back." She smiles politely.

"Okay?" I hesitate. She seems like a sweet woman but serious and bossy at the same time.

"You are not going to tell Madison anything of what happened here. Do you understand? You seem to be a good liar." I force myself to nod. "Good boy," he says like I am some kind of dog before handing me my car keys and my phone.

They open a door for us that I didn't notice was there before and I get out with the woman. I find my car parked right outside of the warehouse. We are in the back of the mall. "We are going to be watching you," says the man before closing the door again.

Walking hurts. The mere action sends intense stabs of pain to my left side. I really wouldn't be surprised if I had something broken. I get in the car, not even bothering to open the other door for the woman. Honestly, I wouldn't mind at all if she doesn't get in.

I lay my head against the seat and close my eyes. Don't think of the pain, I hear my mother's voice telling me as she did often when I was young and I'd fall or something hurt me. If you convince yourself that the pain isn't there eventually it will go away. It doesn't work.

This is a mess. I will never be able to escape from this if I don't do as they say. They have everything they need to know about me and now I know they have information on my family too. All for a chick. Gorgeous and beautiful. Yeah, but who's also hiding something that could be dangerous. And the worst part is, I can't ask her anything about it. If I couldn't before, now is impossible.

If you get her in more trouble than she already is, she will hate you. I am used to that, but this time, I am risking lives.

Lives of people I do know