Innocence

"I'm interested in how innocence fares when it collides with hard reality." –Geoffrey S. Fletcher

He woke up against a hard bed. It was made of from a wood, well-furnished one, varnished with glossy natural color, intentionally made for one person. He pulled himself to sit on the bed, he felt ached. A pain passed through his head as he tried to get up out from the bed, he sits instead. Lying his feet at the end of the bed, he clenched his fists, struggling to control the pain. He cannot locate where was the pain coming from, or there is? He doubted himself to think of his situation at the moment.

Lukas was conscious, well aware of the situation. Everything was unfamiliar. The bed, mirror, the walls, the door, floor, ceiling, even the clothes he wore. He saw a glimpse of himself from the mirror. He loses weight. He cannot recall how he comes up there, how long was he staying at the place.

The room was illuminated by a dull light coming from the light bulb hanging against the ceiling. He pondered, where on earth build a house without a window. He roams the room barefooted. The door was polished, it was shiny leaving no trace of dust. He opened the closet, he saw clothes the same as the pair of dress he was wearing, nothing else. He prowled to the mirror, trying to figure out the familiar lines and angles of his face. It was him, a thinner him. He saw a black crescent shape under his eyes. His lips were dry, he cannot remember the last time he tasted the water.

He walked himself towards the door. He reaches for the doorknob and twists it. He heard a clicking sound as he moves it, but it made no difference. The door was closed from outside. Whoever did this made sure no one can escape the room. He never thought of forcing it to open, not now that he does not know what he was facing.

A prisoner, he thought of himself. The thought shivered his body. The frozen sensation runs through his entire body. It was creepy, everything.

He was not comforted by the event. Why would someone kidnap him? He was nothing, he has nothing.

He heard footsteps. The sound gets louder as if it became nearer to his direction. He hurried and flung on the bed. The sound vanished, changed into a clicking sound. The doorknob turned itself and the door opened. A shape of a woman flashed in the doorway. She was holding a tray, a food tray, he guessed. She wore a loose red t-shirt tucked in her knee-length black skirt, it was comfortable to his view. Her outfit was vibrant against her pale skin. Her hair was fixed to a bun. She has a choker, sparkling gold pendant in it shaped into flames. He wonders how could a woman suffer such a thing for just an accessory. Her face was familiar. She was the woman at the terminal.

"Where am I?" asked Luke, with a tone of desperation. He was sitting at his bed, his back leaned against the wall and his feet straight, tracing the shape of the bed. The woman moved swiftly. She stalked inside toward his direction. She put the tray at the table beside the bed. Lukas moved a little opposite to the woman.

"Is that how you greet the person you just met?" she grinned. Her voice was young, as well as her look.

"Technically, we did not just 'met' right now, we already faced each other. At the terminal" he managed to smile, faking it. "Remember?" he added.

"Oh, what a sharp memory you have there." she rolled her eyes, showing disgust. She never meant concealing though.

"The question, please?" with a pleasing smile.