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panicky tears from bursting out of his body. This was it. This wasn’t something he could come back from. It was an impossible task that would leave him dead in the middle of some nightclub. He’d never see his mom or his sister again, and they would have no idea what had happened to him. All they’d know was whatever story these lunatics told them.
    Eduardo’s grip grew looser as they walked. They passed by a number of doors and exits. There had to be a way out of here. He could leave. He could do it. He just needed to find the right time. Simon gained his footing and stood up straight and strong, and Eduardo let go completely. The moment his hand left, Simon spun around and began to run.
    “Hey!” Eduardo screamed.
    He sprinted as fast as his compromised body would allow. His chest ached and his leg muscles burned with each step. He hadn’t eaten since he’d woken up and his strength was nowhere near strong enough to maintain the pace but still, he moved.
    Eduardo’s feet pounded behind him. He was getting closer and closer.
    “There’s nowhere to go!” Eduardo screamed.
    He didn’t care. He had to try.
    There was a swipe at the back of his neck. Eduardo’s fingers grazed his shirt collar and slipped away.
    He kept running.
    The fingers came again, but this time they hooked under his collar. In one swift pull, he went from upright and running to dangling by his shirt in Eduardo’s hand.
    “Let’s go,” Eduardo said as he grabbed Simon’s arm in a vice-like grip and threw him on the floor. The wall broke his fall, and he felt the side of his head ram against the concrete.
    His hand came back dripping with blood as he tapped the spot that ached. “Why’d you do that?”
    Simon tried to lift himself up, but Eduardo’s foot pushed him back to the floor.
    “Don’t get any ideas, all right? They aren’t fans of second chances out there.”
    There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to go.
     
    “Eh, Rick, he’s here.” They stood against the wall of a small room lit by faded dim bulbs that surrounded a mirror and that had streaks from corner to corner. A small dresser, filled with scissors and bottles of unidentifiable liquids, sat in front of the mirror.
    “What is this place?”
    “Will you just shut up?” Eduardo said.
    From the corner, a small man in a blousy dress shirt and jeans came out from the shadows.
    He hung his head as he walked out and gave Eduardo a brief nod before waving him out of the room. “You may go. He’ll be ready shortly.”
    Eduardo nodded and left the room dutifully.
    Rick circled the shaking Simon who cradled his arms to keep from collapsing completely. “Are you all right?” Rick asked as he eyed his client’s physique.
    Simon swallowed the terror in his throat and nodded. His eyes betrayed him and filled with tears that he quickly wiped off his face. “I’m fine.”
    “You must be so hungry,” he said.
    “I don’t need anything.”
    “You need your strength.” Rick went to his corner and came back with a small muffin wrapped neatly in a napkin.
    Simon pushed it away. It was another trick. The muffin had to be laced with arsenic or neurotransmitters. “No, thank you.”
    Rick gestured them towards him again. “I understand you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either, but,” he said as he moved in closer, “I’m just like you.”
    He wanted so badly to believe him. There was something different about this man. The others had a flippant confidence and a blind sense of purpose. This man looked him in the eye when he spoke.
    “I don’t think so,” he said. He couldn’t let his guard down.
    Rick draped a smock around Simon’s neck and snapped it closed. “I had a salon in Los Angeles.” He pulled out a set of scissors and snapped them together twice. The blades gleamed like they were brand new. “They took me. I was locking up the store and, the next thing I knew, I was here.”
    Simon tipped his head away from the incoming scissors. “Don’t.