His fingers gripped the neatly folded paper, ready to see what was inside. He hurriedly opened it.
Come alone. To Nape 1960 Street.
That was it. Nothing else. No explanation on why he should go to that destination. Just those words staring back at him.
His hand trembled. The paper crumpled slightly in his grip.
'Breathe.'
He sucked in air, but it felt like nothing reached his lungs. His chest was tight, too tight, like something was sitting on it, pressing down, crushing.
He folded the note carefully, too carefully, like the way people do when they're holding themselves together by a thread and shoved it into his pocket.
Then he ran out of the apartment. Back to the street where the taxi had dropped him. He turned, scanning for any taxi he could find but there were none at this hour.
He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he tilted his head up to the sky. The sunlight hit his almond-shaped, dark hazel eyes, making him squint.
No longer staring at the sun, he hurriedly started running again. He needed to at least get out of this street and onto the main road.
His mind raced faster than his feet.
'What danger are they in right now? Are they hurt? Are they…' He cut the thought off. He couldn't go there. Not yet
And at the same time, another question clawed at him: How did his grandparents borrow money?
If they ever did, they would have told him. Grandma never kept secrets, she couldn't even hide his birthday gifts. So why this?
Something was fishy here. And it was confusing him, twisting his thoughts until they tangled.
He almost stumbled, his foot catching on nothing but air, but his body refused to fall, refused to stop. Refused to do anything but move forward.
It took five minutes. Five minutes of burning lungs and heavy legs before he reached the main road, sweating profusely… more than before, more than the run warranted.
He flagged a taxi. One stopped.
He got in, but his breath came so hard he couldn't breathe properly. His chest rose and fell like he'd forgotten how lungs worked.
"To where, boy?" The old driver adjusted the mirror, glancing at Celia through it.
Celia held his breath. Then slowly exhaled. Inhaled. Forced the words out.
"Please take me to Nape 1960 Street." His voice almost choked on the address.
The driver turned fully, staring at him with widened eyes. "What? Why would a young lad like you be going there?"
Celia, now confused, didn't know what to say. All he wanted was to get to the location he'd been given. That was it. Nothing else mattered.
And he knew nothing about that place. Nothing at all.
Telling this driver the truth might bring the police into it. Or worse, waste time he didn't have.
Even though the old man seemed genuinely concerned, Celia forced a smile. "Uh... my uncle lives there."
The lie slipped out smoothly. Too smoothly.
The driver nodded, but something in his eyes said he didn't fully believe it. Still, he just smiled, turned back to the wheel, and started the engine.
'Kids these days,' the old man thought. 'Lying with a straight face.'
"Okay, kid. If you say so." The old man glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "But you gotta be careful out on that street."
He shifted the gear and started driving. Twenty minutes. That's how long the ride took. Twenty minutes of Celia staring out the window, seeing nothing, thinking about everything.
When they finally arrived, the car slowed to a stop.
"Thank you, sir." Celia bowed his head slightly before paying and stepping out.
The driver just nodded. His eyes lingered on Celia for a moment longer than necessary, then he drove off. Celia turned and walked deeper into the street.
It looked like no one lived here. Everywhere was dead and gloomy. His feet slowed. The air here was different, it felt thicker and even colder.
"Now I get what he meant." A shiver ran down his body. He then pulled out the note again, reading the words he'd already memorized. Come alone.
He was alone now. And he had never felt more exposed. Just him in this empty street. A sign board caught his eye. The street name. Matched the paper perfectly.
He kept walking, searching with his eyes, hoping to spot someone, anyone. But unfortunately for him, he didn't notice the shadow behind him.
Following his steps. The moment he stopped, he sensed it, a flicker of movement. He tried to turn, but it was too late. A black cloth bag swallowed his vision.
Then a sharp blow to his neck.
And everything went dark.
*********
Cold.
That was the first thing he felt. Ice-cold water crashed against his face, jolting him from darkness. Celia gasped, choking, coughing.
His eyes flew open and his heart stopped.
"Grandma? Grandpa?"
They sat on a wooden bench across from him. Their clothes were a bit torn. Their bodies shook from fear and cold. He couldn't tell.
"Tae..." His grandma's voice came out barely a whisper. Tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.
"Grandma!" He thrashed forward, but strong hands yanked him back. Two men, one on each side, gripping him like iron chains.
"Let me go!" He fought his feet kicking, body twisting. "Let me GO!"
His grandpa lifted his head slowly. His left eye was swollen shut, but the other found Celia.
"Boy..." His voice was wrecked. "You shouldn't have come."
"Shut up, old man. Before you get shot in the head." The voice came from one of the men holding him.
Celia froze. His eyes darted around the room, assessing. Taking in everything, the exits, the shadows, the distance between him and his grandparents.
The men holding him laughed. One squeezed his shoulder hard enough to make him wince.
"Look at him squirm," the other muttered. Celia stopped fighting. Not because he gave up. Because he was calculating. Searching for a way to free them.
So he let his body go limp. Then the men loosened their grip, just slightly enough, for his elbow to drive back into the first man's ribs. A satisfying crack.
The grip on his left arm vanished. He spun, fist connecting with the second man's jaw before the guy could react. They stumbled back, shocked. Celia didn't wait. He lunged toward his grandparents.
Three steps. That's all he needed. Just three– before hands grabbed him from behind. Wrapped around his waist and yanked him back, hard.
He hit the ground. Air exploded from his lungs. Before he could move, they were on him.
One pinning his legs, the other pressing his face into the cold floor. He fought and tried to kick. But they were bigger and stronger.
Then a fist drove into his stomach. He curled, gasping, seeing stars.
Then another blow, and another.
His body gave out. His vision blurred. He couldn't move nor breathe.
Just then a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. The men stopped what they were doing. Their weight lifted slightly.
Celia sucked in air, coughing, blinking against the haze. He tried to lift his head, to see who was clapping.
"Weldone, Cinderella."
A calm voice said, amused. Coming from somewhere in the darkness.
"I didn't know you had this fire in you." Celia's blood ran cold. There was someone else here, watching everything the whole time.