On the third day I got the privilege to be taken to another room. It was a nice change from the moldy cement walls and the metal chair. I haven’t been fed in a while.The shackles on my wrists had been removed yesterday, and my wrists are raw and sore to the bone. But the air was slightly less damp, still cold as ice, but at least there wasn’t a constant musty stink raping my nostrils. The worst part is the feeling of their skin touching mine. In order to take me to the “interrogation room” as they called it, they needed to wrap their snake-like hands around my arms. That is the worst fucking part.
“You are being transported to the interrogation room.” One of them had come in, his black cloak swirling around him like a black mist. Of course I couldn’t see his…it’s… face, as it was completely shrouded in darkness. A second glided forth and they both had their hands on me before I could say a word and dragged me through the heavy metal door into a hallway. The hallway was almost identical to my cell, accept that there was no mold or musty smell leaking through the cement’s pores. It was hard for me to walk from the couple nights I had slept on the concrete floor so they had to drag me. The floor scuffed my converse. It still baffled me that in the situation I am in I had been worried about the life of my converse shoes.
Now, after a few moments of dragging, whimpering and dragging, they shoved me through a door set on the left side of the hallway and I was set stumbling into a very… normal room? The cement walls were covered in pale green wallpaper, the floor was carpeted with a very soft beige; I felt it with my hands. It’s been a while since I’ve felt something soft. My moment of peace is disrupted by a deep rumbling voice. I look up to see one of them, sitting in a purple arm chair across the room. I scramble to my feet and face it, breathing hard.
“Sit.” It gestures to a duplicate chair opposite him. I approach him slowly. After a few steps I breathe in deeply. Am I allowed to talk? Will they hurt me if I do?
“Where is Sam?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I quickly cover my mouth with my hands. Will they hurt me now? Have a broken a rule? Will they finally kill me for disobedience?
“He’s in another cell down the hall.” It says calmly, a hint of emotion in his voice. I blink at him dumbly. One of them actually answered one of my questions. It’s been a while since they’ve done that. Can he answer more?
“Why am I here?”
“You are a Blank.” I raise my eyebrows at his words and hurriedly sit in the arm chair, crossing my arms for warmth. Despite the normality of the room, it’s still deathly cold. We sit in silence for a while. I stare at my scuffed shoes while he glares at me. Or, at least I think he is. I can’t see his eyes save for a glint coming from them every now and again.
“Your aunt gave you the gene.” It says, breaking the heavy silence.
“Yes. I figured that out a few days ago.” I shrug, feeling surprisingly at ease. This one seems to be a little bit gentler than the rest of them. I notice that his nails are rounded, and not razor sharp like the others. Could he be different?
No. They’ll all the same.
“Smart human.” He observes. “Are you hungry?”
I nod my head rapidly. I haven’t been fed since the loaf of bread they gave me yesterday morning. On cue, my stomach growls and another on of them flows through the doorway caring a tray full of food. I stare at the silver platter in wonder. There’s a bowl of hot vegetable soup, there is steam still rising from it, three pieces of toast, roast beef with gravy, mashed potatoes with green herbs in it that smell delicious, and a bowl of pudding. They brought me chocolate pudding. With whipped cream and sprinkles on top, no less. I grab the tray from it and start devouring the feast. Why are they deciding to be so nice to me? There is silverware on a napkin at the edge of the platter but I ignore it, diving head first into the roast beef, using my fingers. Next I eat the mashed potatoes, the toast, the soup, and finally, the pudding. I reach out with my index finger to take one dollop of whipped cream and put it in my mouth. It melts against my tongue and I close my eyes in ecstasy. Then I noticed that the one sitting across from me has made a noise of disgust. I pick up the napkin and wipe off my hands and face before taking a spoon and eating the pudding like a normal human being who hasn’t been kidnapped.
“Are you still hungry?”
“No. Thank you for the food though.” I’m being polite? They have Sam trapped in a cell somewhere and I’m making nice with one of them? What?
Dumbass.
With my belly full, and the comfy arm chair settling me in, I feel really sleepy. My eyes drop and I lean my head back, enjoying the soft padding.
“Where does your aunt live?” It asks, his fingers forming a steeple. He leans in toward me.
“Um, Juneau.” I speak, the words whispering through my lips. I could tell this guy anything. He’s so nice, he gave me food. This chair is nice…
“How old is she?”
“Thirty-five…”
“How often do you see her?”
“I used to see her almost every day,” I stir, “But since I moved here…. Not so… much.” The words barely pass through my lips now. The room is suddenly very warm and comforting.
“Does she live with anyone else?”
“Um, no. Not if you count her Labrador, Daisy, though…”
“Does she travel often?” He speaks.
“Not really. I’ve barely seen her out of her house, now that you mention it.” My food is sitting so nicely in my stomach. I feel so nice…
“Does she have any other residence?”
“I just said she never leaves her house…”
“What is her address?”
“540, Pine Avenue. It’s a big white house, surrounded by pine trees… they smell nice…” My eyes droop more. They are hard to keep open.
“Thank you, Eneile. You’ve given us a lot of information we didn’t know about your aunt.”
Wait… what?
“What you are experiencing now is a truth serum that was in the soup and pudding that you just ate. Unfortunately, is comes with drowsy side effects, but I think we got enough information out of you. Thank you.”
Oh… God…
Two of them come into the room, pick me up by my arms, and throw me into my cell. They put the chains back on my already-raw wrists. Now is the time that I let them see me cry. They want her, they want my aunt Jeane. And I just led them straight to her. Oh God, no. Fuck, no!
I scream, the sound echoing off the hard concrete wall as they close the heavy metal door on me, locking me in. The camera zooms in on my face, capturing every emotion, keeping it safe in a file for study. They’re going to get kill my aunt. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. They’re going to kill her. It’s my-
fault.
(Sam’s POV)
I can hear her screaming. My wrists strain against the chains but they’re too strong. I’m too weak. They have barely fed me, just enough the keep me alive. But that doesn’t matter, because I can hear her screaming. Ultimately, I know it’s my fault. I couldn’t protect her, defend her like I should have. I’ve never felt more helpless in my life. Her screams still echo to my ears. There isn’t anything I want more than to get her out of here, away from them, away from this life I’ve lead her into. She has a family. A friend. People who care about her and miss her and are probably crying for her right now and I can’t bring her back to those people she loves. I can’t do that and it kills me.
The camera zooms in on my face, and I glare at the lens. I want them to know how mad I am. It’s a weak attempt, but I hope their at least a little scared about what I’m going to do to them once I’m out of here.
You’ll never get out of here.
I know.
…I know.
