Pinhole constellation

As I was taking in his words, my new friend's mobile went off. Putting the phone to his ear, he said nothing apart from an irritable "yes?" followed by a long silence, during which his face got grimmer. "Right. I'm on my way," was all he said after listening.

He looked at me as if he intended saying something, thought better of it, and went to the door.

I heard him speaking to someone outside the door: "he shouldn't give you any trouble," he was saying, "he's going nowhere. If he asks for anything, ignore him. If he pisses his pants, ignore him. Got it? I'll be back in ten."

The door slammed, and I was left alone.

Looking round the room - as much as I could from my enforced seated position - I noticed that there wasn't much to see. It was blandly neutral, and apart from a couple of chairs and a table, empty.

The red cardboard folder still sat on the table; he was obviously completely confident that my mental bonds would hold firm.

The walls were featureless, apart from a few drawing-pin-sized holes in the plaster. My eyes settled on three in a row, one slightly offset. Reminded me of Orion's Belt, one of the few constellations I can usually find in the night sky.

What had happened to Jen? He'd said she was safe, but how far could I trust him? I didn't know what to think about Mr Smith or Kate any more: there was no mistaking the contempt I'd heard in the other guy's voice - but there was no escaping the fact they'd got me back here in the first place.

I didn't know what the fate of any of them was. They were as distant to me as the stars.

And I didn't know how I was going to get out of this.



Story begins here.