Into the Unknown

(Kelly's POV)

My eyes were glued to the screen, the toilet scene playing out like a suspense thriller. I was looking for Ronny, trying to make sense of his sudden disappearance. The tension was palpable, the silence in the helicopter only broken by the low hum of the engine and the occasional static from the screen.

And then, without warning, the screen went dark. The toilet scene, once filled with activity, was now nothing more than a black void. I blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden change. The men around me had stern gazes, their eyeballs were all hidden under their black shades like Rashad.

Before I could process what was happening, the screen went blank. The live feed from the police station was gone. We were in the dark, both literally and figuratively. The helicopter began its descent, the city lights becoming distant specks as we moved further away.

We landed smoothly in a forest-like area, the trees looming over us like silent sentinels. Rashad, who had been silent throughout the journey, finally spoke. "We've landed," he announced, his voice echoing in the cabin. He turned to look at the masked man, who nodded in response. It was as if this was all part of their plan.

I looked at Rashad, trying to read his expression. But his face was impassive, his eyes hidden behind his dark shades. He seemed unperturbed by the recent incident . His calm demeanor was unsettling, making me question what exactly happened at the police station.

As the reality of our situation sank in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. We were in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the outside world, and being hunted. And yet, Rashad seemed to be in control, as if he had anticipated this all along.

As we disembarked from the helicopter, the monstrous-looking men who had been silent throughout the journey fell into step behind us. They moved like shadows, their stern gazes hidden behind dark shades, their faces serious and intimidating. I tried not to look back at them, but curiosity got the better of me. I stole glances at them three times, each time their stern expressions sending a chill down my spine.

We moved away from the helicopter, the loud whirring of its blades fading into the background as we ventured deeper into the forest. The trees towered over us, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, casting long, eerie shadows on the ground. The only sounds were the crunching of leaves under our feet and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Rashad led the way, his steps confident and sure. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, navigating the dense forest with ease. I followed closely behind him, my heart pounding in my chest. The men trailed behind us, their silent forms like specters in the darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, a wooden house came into view. It was nestled in the outskirts of the forest, its silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. Rashad headed straight for it, his stride unchanging. The sight of the house brought a new wave of fear.

As we approached the house, I couldn't help but look back at the men one last time. Their faces were still serious, their gazes still hidden behind their shades.

And with a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the house. This was it. We were about to step into the unknown, and no one seemed to be telling me what on earth was going on.

With a deep sigh, I stepped into the wooden house. The floorboards creaked under my weight, the sound echoing in the silence. Rashad glanced at me from the corner of his eye, a silent acknowledgment, before continuing his walk into the house.

The house was a picture of abandonment. Cobwebs hung from the corners, dust particles floated in the air, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the broken windows. Rusted iron utensils lay scattered on the floor, their once shiny surface now a dull brown. Dirty plates were piled up in a corner, a testament to the many meals that had been consumed and forgotten.

In the midst of this decay, Rashad, with his flashy Balenciaga coat, seemed out of place. He moved with an air of familiarity, navigating the cluttered space with ease. He walked over to a bed that looked like it had been there for decades, its mattress sagging under the weight of time. Without a moment's hesitation, he sat down, the bed creaking under his weight.

I watched him, my eyes wide with shock. The contrast between his trendy attire and the dilapidated surroundings was stark. Yet, he seemed comfortable, as if he belonged here.

As I stood there, still trying to make sense of the situation, Rashad's phone began to ring. The sound was muffled, almost drowned out by the eerie silence of the house. He pulled it out of his pocket, a look of surprise crossing his face as he realized it had been ringing all along.

He answered the call, his voice low and steady. "Okay, the deed is done, right? Okay, good," he said, his words echoing in the quiet room. He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable.

Then, without missing a beat, he reached into his coat and pulled out a silver-colored gun. The metallic object glinted in the moonlight, its presence a stark reminder of the danger we were in. He readied the gun with a practiced ease, the sound sharp and final in the silence.

I watched him, my heart pounding in my chest. The sight of the gun, the sound of his voice on the phone, the realization of what was happening - it all hit me at once. We were not just in the middle of a game. We were in the middle of a dangerous, life-threatening situation. And Rashad, with his flashy Balenciaga coat and his silver gun, was at the center of it all.

Rashad turned to me, his eyes hidden behind his shades. "Yo, sit down, girl," he said, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "You're starin' at me like you've seen a ghost or somethin'." His words were casual, but the underlying threat was clear.

I did as he said, moving towards the couch. It was old and worn, the fabric damp and carrying a musty smell that was a mix of mold and neglect. I sat down, the springs creaking under my weight. I kept my eyes on Rashad, unable to shake off the feeling of unease.

Rashad seemed to ignore my stare. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of cigarette. With a flick of his lighter, he lit it, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. He took a long drag, then exhaled, the smoke billowing out and filling the room. The smell of the smoke mixed with the dampness of the room, creating a heavy, suffocating atmosphere.

I watched him, my mind racing. The sight of Rashad, nonchalant and in control, was a stark contrast to the fear gnawing at me. We were in the middle of a dangerous situation, and yet, he seemed unfazed. It was clear that this was his world, a world where danger was the norm and fear was a luxury one couldn't afford. And I, I was just a visitor, trying to navigate my way through it.