Aware & Argumentative
An Author’s Plight
“So this is where we end this?” Gwen asked as I came to.
“No,” I replied as I pulled on the zip ties holding my limbs to the chair. “I think we can get out of this.”
“How exactly are we going to do that?” Gwen asked. “You do know that it seems like lately we’ve been captured a lot. Way more than is acceptable, and yet somehow we get out. What the hell is going on?”
“I think-now hear me out-that we are in a book,” I said, looking around the room. “I think someone is watching us and putting us in the position to get captured over and over again. How else would guys like these know where we were?”
“We were out on a roof in broad daylight with a sniper rifle, Henry,” Gwen replied, “They were clearly watching for potential assassins. The armored cars and bodyguards are enough to tell me that this isn’t the first time that they’ve had issues with us.”
“If you’re so smart then who gave us the job?” I asked. “Why were we on the roof? Where were we before? Where in the hell are we anyway? Just some weird neighborhood with a flat-top roof of a presumably unoccupied building right across the street from a suburban house? This is all too convenient and, quite honestly a little shitty as far as writing goes.”
“Will you shut up for a minute?” Gwen snapped, “I don’t have the time to listen to your insane theories while I try to figure out how to get out of this.”
“No! I’m tired of doing what you say,” I fired back, “Let me ask you this before you magically free us from this round of being tied up, why didn’t they kill us on the roof? You would have killed anyone holding a rifle pointed at our house.”
“Clearly they want to get information out of us,” Gwen said, “That’s the only reason to keep a threat alive. And I wouldn’t necessarily kill anyone trying to kill me. It would depend on the circumstances. Are they firing? Do I know who sent them?”
“Oh. My. God. You’re a tool for the author,” I said shaking my head, “Whoever it is is using you to keep me in line. Son-of-a-bitch!”
“Shut up, Henry,” Gwen said, “You’re losing it. Help me find something to cut these ties with, please.”
“FUCK YOU! YOU HEAR ME, MR. AUTHOR PERSON? I’M TIRED OF YOUR BULLSHIT!” I screamed at the ceiling.
The sound of footsteps across the floor above echoed through the room.
“Henry, you stupid asshole,” Gwen said as she looked around the basement, “You need to shut the fuck up before they come in and kill us!”
“You don’t get it, Gwen,” I replied, “None of this matters anyway, we’re in a story. We can’t die, well, seemingly I can’t die. I don’t even know how I stopped Grace from killing me or you when she killed Robert.”