TorrieI’m in front of the building when I get the call.
“Is this my two nights ago?” he says, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Good,” he says, “What about now? Same place.”
I throw a glance over at the Factory, its ragged exterior nothing compared to what’s awaiting me inside. Getting out of this would be nice; I’d like nothing better. And yet I know. There will be no getting out of this. I have to go in there, see the horrors that lie inside. I have to know.
I have to do this.
“What about tonight?” I say, “Same place. Seven.”
“Sounds good,” he says, then “Wait-”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your name?”
I laugh.
“What’s yours?”
“I asked you first.”
I laugh again.
“We’re not there yet. Maybe tonight.”
“I’ll get it out of you,” he says, a smirk in his voice, and hangs up.
