Alone

This is the opening of a Novel I am writing and  I would really appreicate some feedback. 

Tonight

To me it’s a promise.

To others it’s a threat. 

Eight letters.

One word.

Scrawled onto a piece of paper and shoved under my door.

It scares me.

He didn’t sign his name, but he doesn’t need to; there’s only one person in this hell hole who gives a damn about me.

This is the first ‘conversation’ I’ve had with my brother in months AND ALL HE DOES IS THEATREN ME WITH THIS PROMISE!

I close my eyes and press the paper between my thumb and for finger. The sound tares through the night as I ripe the paper in half again and again and again, until the pieces are too small to rip the inky word cannot be read.

If they catch me, they’ll blame him and if they find evidence, they’ll kill him.

I can’t let that happen.

I push the edge of my bed away from the wall, I’ve found if I hold the frame at the right angle it stops the mental from scrapping against the concrete floor. A slight breeze tickles my ankles as I drop to all fours and the cold seeps through my clothes when I stretch out onto my stomach.

There’s a whole in the wall of my cell, it’s too small to fit through, I’m guessing that’s why they never patched it up. But I’m grateful for the fresh air which circulates my home; only tonight it blows the smells of acid. I have a bad feeling.

I take my notebook, which is stuffed between the bricks and force the fist-full of paper through the whole. I wait for the wind to snatch it from my grasp; it’s hold is strong today I know it will carry the unreadable message far from here, but with the promise of hiding the message comes the threat of a storm.

I hope James knows what he’s doing.

We’ve lived by one warning, one fact which is conditioned into every child since birth –The witches are dangerous, viscous – diseased creatures.