"Father..." I shouted through the darkness. "Can anyone hear me?" I voice was lost against the overwhelming darkness as I felt my body getting weaker and weaker as I slowly edged towards the door. Slowly but surely, like in the story about the hare and the tortoise that my father had read to me and Kyra once.
The only thing that answered my calls was the wind that was whistling through the corrugated steel roof which suggested that I was in some kind of warehouse that was more then likely disused which is why they have managed to hold me here for so long without anyone noticing.
Also the reason that they have managed to have a secret meeting about robot attacks without having to worry about anyone over hearing them.
I listened intently as their conversation became more hateful to each other. "Why can't he get someone else then if he's ill! Surely there is more then one person that can make them!" The president barked at my father.
"Surely so." My father replied and I was confused by how calm he was in this situation. "But no-one can make them as fast and which as much precision as Lucas can."
The President's remarks had been defeated which made him just stand there, fuming and letting his face go as red as though his anger was boiling up inside him - and soon, he would have to find a way to let it out. I was getting closer and closer to the door, my legs and arms in agony and I knew that there was a possibility that I had caused myself serious friction burn.
The two men outside muttered something to each other in hushed tones compared to how they had just been talking. The argument that they were having was becoming more intense. The President was arguing why he only had ten robots while my father came up with logical reasons behind each one.
I reached my arm upwards towards the door and I wasn't going to reach it even if I was standing. Deciding that I had to stand up if I was to see if the man behind the door was my father and escape, I tucked my knees in until I looked like a ball on the floor.
I looked up just as a thousand fragments of lightly tinted glass shattered from the door and fell around me, cutting into my already tender skin. Where did that come from? I look up and see the remaining pieces still left in the door. Who did it and why? They must of not known that I was in here but I couldn't move anywhere around me because of the ocean of glass that had surrounded me. I swung my legs underneath me so that I was sitting on the floor and used my feet as a way to clear the glass from in front of me.
I moved forward slightly and winced in pain as I placed my hand on a piece of glass. As I went to examine the cut, I noticed the piece sticking out of my hand slightly so wrapped the fingers from my other hand around it and tugged gently until I had finally removed it and although it sent a flow of blood down my palm, the relief of it's removal sent relief through my body.
Being cautious of where I moved my feet to and where I placed my hands, I slowly got closer and closer to the door, flinching every time I placed my glass-implied palm on the floor. I was almost there when I lost my balance and toppled to my right and felt as tiny bits of glass dug deep into my arm creating new cuts and increasing the depth of others.
When would the pain end?
Through all of this pain, I had not heard the voices from the other side of the door so I looked back up to see if I could still see their shadows. My father and the President would have some explaining to do if it was them outside! Thinking of my father made me think of my Shield-Siblings... where were they? Were they trying to save me? Were they being held captive too? All the questions made my head hurt so I just focused on reaching the door which seemed to have moved further away from me as I went dizzy and could feel myself drifting slowly in and out of conciousness.
My head was spinning. I felt like being sick at any point. Pain flowed through every muscle, every vein and increased with every movement I made. The voices had faded and I began to wonder what was going on? If I had imagined the conversation, then I would of had to of heard it before, but I hadn't.
The thought that my father was alive and just on the other side of the door drove me closer and closer, through the pain, torture and sickness that I was fighting against.
Closer, closer... almost... there....Come... on.... Nieve.
Everything slowly dissolved into black around me.