The yellow hues of the midday outlined men and women who were out for their coffee breaks. Crushing the dry autumn leaves, their footsteps were more distinct in the back streets of England. 

It was the day after Friday the 13th, attracting newer customers than the sacred day had, mostly men. Some stood scratching their head while the others were long gone. It was quarter past twelve p.m. and the teller of misfortune hadn't made an appearance. 

Carmen - curled up in the corner of her bed, wrapped in her weary blanket - hadn't had an ounce of sleep. Tossing and turning the previous night, fighting for the wink of sleep, she was frustrated. Eventually, she found herself fiddling with her remote control as her tiny TV screen turned on and off. There weren't any fascinating channels or shows being displayed so she settled on watching a surprisingly interesting documentary on Megalodons. 

Realistically, knowing the exact dimensions of an extinct species, or the fact that they were partially warm-blooded served no purpose. Still, she was ten facts smarter. 

The day dragged on, mimicking the manner that Carmen dragged around her tiny space, her blanket protecting her from everything evil, as she perceived it. She covered her circular mirror with a cloth, aware that the substantial wicked she needed to hide from was her own, cold reflection. 

A sleepless night was bound to give reminders of the fateful day and the case was no different for Carmen. Similar to the changing state of her television - from on to off - her mind switched between Emily, Nikolas and Reed. Previously, Carmen wouldn't have felt an ounce of guilt for Reed but after witnessing the gruesome scene from the last morning, her emotions seemed to be muddled. 

The reflection of her cold face from Reed's sunken, blurry eyes resembled that of a monster. The idea that someone regarded her as a hero filled her with shame. She hadn't just tricked him; she'd let him down. His adjusting eyes might have realized her intentions but it was too late by then. 

"At least he didn't see it coming," Carmen joked, receiving a bleak laugh from the depths of her soul. 

Once again, her eyes lingered on her television - not a documentary this time around. She'd been stuck on the local news channel for an hour, hoping for a Nikolas Branson update. Carmen continued to alternate between new channels when a certain headline caught her attention. 

Sources of Black Money at the Hawk Manor Exposed!

Hawk. William Hawk. 

That was not the name she had hoped to see. 

Carmen wasn't one to judge; nothing she owned was considered white money. Perhaps William had simply chosen to not bear taxes and she was in no position to reprimand him for it. But she knew how the world saw it. How would he go forward with the drugs he found if no one has a reason to believe him anymore? 

The news clip ran back, replaying the headline from the start. 

"William and Victoria Hawk's mansion in Bloomsbury had been searched for black money on 14th October, this morning, at 7 a.m. Although the search for the money or unregistered property itself deemed defeat, the income tax department believes they now know the sources of their alleged excess in cash."

The clip on the television changed, focusing on a young man decked in a suit as he spoke for the mic in front of him. 

"William and Victoria Hawk returned from their break at Mumbai, India last night. We searched their house this morning, hoping they wouldn't have had any hints that we'd be there so as to not hide their cash. When we went, we didn't find what we were looking for but the professional who checked his daughter's room found a pile of drugs - Cocaine, Cannabis, Diamorphine and Flunitrazepam being the bulk of it."

The new anchor took over, "Reports from the police state that William Hawk denies any action of owning or dealing in the specified drugs. Their twenty-year-old daughter was interrogated as well, minutes after which she gave up a name - Nikolas Branson. She claims that it was the name that the drugs came by."

Carmen's knees shook as she fell to the ground, hugging the blanket that had protected her. Their daughter had given the name, they might take her seriously. All in all, the brute's name was out and she released a sigh of relief, realizing that her life would go back to the way it was - normal. 

Except for the two memories. That would be something she'd always live with.

The anchor continued, "The Hawks ordered protection as revealing a name on such a huge platform would prove dangerous for her well-being. However, the police refuse to do so without further investigation. Their words have been taken with a grain of salt because of a shocking revelation - Nikolas Branson does not exist in the records."

What. The. Fuck. 

That can't be right. 

He'd introduced himself as Nikolas Branson, he had Emily Branson as a wife! They were the Bransons! Carmen knew for certain that she hadn't misheard them! 

They must have given themselves a fake name, she reasoned. Why hadn't she ever considered that Nikolas would have been more cautious with his name?

Except he wasn't Nikolas anymore. 

In the argument, didn't she call him Nikolas multiple times? She asked herself, trying to balance off the odds. 

Except, Emily didn't. She had only ever called him Nik and never expanded on that except for when she knew Carmen was around. 

The ground could have swallowed Carmen whole. She rubbed her temples, the crunching of stray leaves soothing her brain, even if only for a second. Her heart thumped in her chest as she heard the firing all over again - something she'd tried to block with Megalodon noises all day and night. 

The gunshots were louder this time, unmistakable. Carmen could feel the searing hot burn of a bullet grazes past her - a hallucination. Her heart burned; she couldn't blame it on the chips and beans - her staple diet - for she had not consumed a single thing last night. 

She knew very well what it was; the bullets tearing her skin and rupturing where her heart would be, shattering the hollow cavity and the walls around it. She had had one chance to save herself. And she blew it. 

Nowhere was safe. 

Nikolas could be anywhere. 

Bile rose in her throat as she shrugged her blanket away. She rose to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom - lucky for her, it wasn't far away. Unable to reach the toilet in time, she bent over the sink and gagged. Unconsciously, she removed the covers from the mirror and held onto it with her right arm while her left arm caressed her head. 

What she excreted wasn't food; she hadn't eaten much anyway. The plain white liquid that sat on the white sink, blending into the background was the fear - something she'd been feeling only recently. Her eyes pricked as lone tears mixed with the semi-vomit, a vile concoction that lived inside her. 

Crashes filled her mind as she pictured herself packing up and running away from this cruel space. She'd have to start over but she was no stranger to that. This time, she'd choose an honourable job or at the very least, not go the extra mile. 

More crashes sounded as she stared at her reflection in the mirror - her hair resembling a bird's home. The noises were prominent - more than the gunshots that rang in her ear. Perhaps it was a sign - to crash and burn her godforsaken life. 

Carmen stared at her reddening nose and swollen eyes - a state she never desired to return to - when her mirror reflected something that wasn't her. It didn't fill the mirror screen but she was sure she'd seen a black-covered shoulder pop up. 

Her legs froze upon a realization - the crashes weren't a part of her imagination. 

Someone had broken in. 

Slowly, she lifted the mirror off the wall, feigning anger that she had harboured before. She looked at the mirror, staring at her frame but her focus was on the door frame that hid the belly of her living room. Carmen examined the space behind her - it would be foolish to run. If there was someone inside, they'd grab her in no time. 

Carmen looked over the mirror and around the bathroom. Her orange-bristled toothbrush would do no harm and throwing the bar of her dwindling soap would only distract him for so long. Her hands shivered as she looked at herself again, knowing that this someone could strike at any time. 

She drew in a breath before hurling the mirror on the tiled bathroom floor. 

The mirror imploded on contact, shards of different characteristics disintegrating all over the bathroom floor. She winced as the microscopic pieces of glass bedazzled her rusty feet. She didn't have a reflecting surface to foresee the man's moves. She had to make it quick. 

On the other side, there seemed to be a sudden realization. Escaping the shelter of the pillar, a dark, 6'3'' man charged at her, his all-black attire causing him to appear as a wild buffalo. He huffed his way to the bathroom, a bright pink handkerchief being the only sign of colour. 

Carmen bent down. In a swift motion, she grabbed the closest, largest shard and turned towards the ravaging beast; he wasn't out of reach. 

One look at him and she knew he wasn't Nikolas. However, that did not matter. What mattered, was her life. 

Carmen ducked below, an attempt to snake away from him. However, her towering height proved to be disadvantageous as she found herself stuck midway, unintentionally in his grasp. He pulled her striped t-shirt as she pulled away from him, the force ripping apart the decrepit fabric. Seizing the opportunity, Carmen's long legs took a stance, marching to the exit, outside of which the midday visitors had begun to leave. 

Her heart thumped as she reached the door the locks of which were completely messed up - the gorilla's doing. The glass shard in her hand - which she hadn't had to use - was caked in blood nonetheless. Her palms became one with the mirror, her ichor binding them together. 

Before she could throw the door open, the wretch caught up to her. As he grabbed her thick curly hair, she only remembered one person - Emily. She shook herself away from him, using her mighty legs to stomp on his barrel-like feet but the man didn't flinch. Holding the nape of her neck, he brought the pink kerchief to her face as horror filled her eyes. 

She screamed as she sunk her teeth into his rocky arms, unwilling to close off in fear. Her attempts were in vain as he used the gap between her face and his arm to slip the kerchief in, letting it do what it did best. 

Soon, everything went dark. 

𓆩⟡𓆪

A soft, velvety surface enveloped Carmen, confirming one detail for her - she wasn't home. Her eyes were the only senses that failed to oblige. Her teeth were outlined with the taste of iron and she felt the numbness in her body. 

Her other senses worked perfectly, or so she hoped. Her ears picked up on the shuffling feet and the only other noticeable sound being their tears emanating from a meek voice - that of a woman. 

She felt a voice boom over her, "You up?"

Carmen didn't catch a tone - something she often did. Instead, his voice was like that of an AI and she wasn't sure if she'd finally lost it or was in another multiverse. 

Both of which sounded ludicrous upon further speculation. 

"Yes," she croaked, her voice hollow. 

Her heavy eyelids flew open, the blinding eyes forcing her to shut them again. She didn't toe the line. Instead, she stared ahead into the closed space, the surroundings mocking her more than they had intended to.

"A fucking movie theatre?" she roared, the power returning to her voice. 

She looked below at the surface she had been sitting on - a red leather recliner with a cup holder to its side. Immediately, she kicked herself off its surface, falling to the carpeted floor as the numbness hadn't receded. Whatever drug the rhino had used on her seemed to do its job exceptionally. 

"What the fuck is going on?" her voice ricocheted around the quiet, closed space. 

"Calm down," the man overlooking her said. 

His blonde hair fell over his deep brown eyes as he knelt below to aid Carmen. The strands of silky smooth hair covered any expression he held on his face but upon one close glance, Carmen deduced one thing - this man could not be trusted. 

Nobody was this calm in an unusual place, especially if they were brought here the way Carmen was. He had an affiliative smile on his face, reminding her of the one she'd always put on in her workplace. He was one just like her. 

Carmen grabbed his arm, allowing him to support her to the ground. Once her bare feet touched the floor and remained still, she pushed him away from herself. 

"How did you get here?" she asked, burying her fear as she faced him. 

"Just like you did. The way we all did," he responded, his eyes giving nothing away. 

Only then did Carmen realise that they weren't alone. She looked at the theatre, its dimensions surely larger than her home. At one corner near the large flat television screen was a petite blonde woman, hugging her knees as sobs rolled down her bare thighs. 

Don't look, Carmen warned herself but it was too late. The tears from the girl reiterated the fear in her heart and she was unable to hold in the choke as she held on to an armrest, her breathing hitched. 

"Where are we? How the fuck did I get here?" she asked in a whisper as her face turned small. 

Carmen ate control for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She lived and breathed for control. Hell, she ran away from her grandmother for control. Never in a million years would she have expected to never be found in an area so monumental. 

She remembered her home again. Wouldn't people have seen her getting picked away? She sure as hell wasn't in the position to walk till the kidnapping vehicle. How did the man successfully bring her here?

More importantly, who was he?

Was this Nikolas's plan? He was the only one who wanted ill for her. Or, was he?

Carmen's head was clogged with memories that were months old - the tears of a woman who thought her boyfriend cheated on her, a father, unable to provide for his kids because of financial issues and a mother whose shopping bags lay on the road alongside her unconscious self. 

There were plenty of people who would love to see her gone. 

Either way, who were the people around her?

"Who are you guys?" she asked, walking down the short stairs, towards the TV. screen. 

The only answer she got was the sound of the doorknob turning. This sound echoed as the contraption came in contact with someone's hand. Following the noise, Carmen turned her head to her right, only to see a boy in a leather jacket twist the knob relentlessly. 

"Why is nobody helping him open the door?" Carmen asked, the increase in pitch causing her voice to crack. 

Carmen ran to the door; her legs moved on their own accord, tumbling at every step as she was the marionette of the drug's effects. Her eyes looked straight ahead at the sound-proofed black door that almost blended in with the wallpaper. If it wasn't for the boy's pale neck, she might have missed him completely in his leather jacket. 

When she reached the door, she did not hesitate. She no longer cared why no one was helping the lone boy. All that mattered was that she'd be able to break through it with the help of his well-muscled arms. As she touched the doorknob, her warm skin came in contact with his cold knuckles. 

He jerked; his hazel eyes stared back at her, a helpless expression glued to his eyes. 

Carmen on the other hand dropped with fear. 

She knew someone in the room after all - a misfortune that worsened her state tenfold. 

The man by the door was Reed.  

𓆩⟡𓆪

A/N: The crux of the book is here! After all of Carmen's antics, she's trapped in a movie theatre of all places! Who are the others? Why are they here? You'll find out soon 👀
WC: 2755