"The pain was a river I rode; I could not plant my feet in it or it would knock me down."
-Frances Greenslade
It was a normal day for her, as far as normal days go. She went to work, went home, got some Chinese takeout, graded some papers, watched a movie, and got ready for bed. While she was brushing her teeth, her doorbell rang. She hurried down the stairs, with her toothbrush still in her mouth; the foam of the tooth paste was around the outside of her lips, causing the little indentations of where she bit them while she was watching the movie to sting. She figured whoever was at the door was most likely her father, who had a history of just randomly showing up at her flat at whatever hour he deemed acceptable.
She was surprised to see a young man and a woman when she opened the door. The woman, with carrot red hair, and the man, who looked seemingly normal except for his extraordinarily large nose, each held something. The woman had a syringe and the man had a bag. It was in that moment that she realized that something was not perfectly okay and that she should at least try to run and get away from these two people, of whom she was sure, had an intention of hurting her.
"Clara Oswald," said the woman to the man, "Age twenty-four, healthy, school teacher. She should be good. Help me hold her down; she looks like she's going to give a fight." They looked at each other and shared a nod, and started moving towards her.
She tried to scream, but she was so terrified that no sound came out; her legs refused to move, she was scared stiff. The man laughed, and the woman put the syringe against her neck; she felt the needle pierce her skin, and the woman injected the anesthetic into her. Almost instantly she felt the effects and her eyelids began to feel heavy, she felt herself crash to the ground. "G'night Clara." The woman said maniacally before she passed out completely.
She woke up and didn't know where she was. It was a dark room; there were no windows, but there was a small lamp and a cot. She ran over to the door and started to pound on it, knowing that it was locked and that nobody was going to come for her. Then, the reality of her predicament sunk in - she was trapped in a building that was full of people who might have an intention of killing her. She was terrified and angry. In fact, she was infuriated. These people (If they even deserved to be called people) had taken her from her home in the middle of the night- a Tuesday night, she had work the next day, if it was the next day, for all she knew she could have been out for days. She started to cry, actually, it was more like violently sobbing. Her body was curled in a fetal possession on the cold, concrete ground and she was shaking from head to toe while she cried.
She was sure there was a camera watching her- from all the movies she had seen with rooms like this there always was one. She was also quite certain that the people watching the footage from her containment room were probably watching her and laughing, because that's what people who kidnap innocent women right out of their homes do- they act like sick animals. She cried herself to sleep and woke up less than two hours later because of a nightmare, and she didn't really want to sleep anymore. When she did get tired, she pinched herself to stay awake.
After what felt like three hours later, the man and the woman came into her room and escorted her out, after they put her in a blindfold that was the same color as their souls, black. They sat her down in a chair, strapped her wrists to its arms and her ankles to its legs. They proceeded to remove the blindfold from her face.
"The Doctor will be here shortly." Said the man, then he and the woman left.
She spent the time waiting imagining what he would look like- she thought the Doctor would be an old man with murderous eyes and scarred face. She thought he might have a monocle and a limp. So, when he came in with a surprisingly young face that held sad eyes and a tweed jacket and a bow tie, she was a bit surprised. On the table, there was a folder, which said Subject 11: C. Oswald.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why what?" he asked.
"Why me?" she cried, "Why, WHY?" she thrashed around in the chair, trying to wiggle out of the restraints so she could wring his neck. Sadly, the woman and man knew how to restrain people to chairs. He rolled his eyes.
"There's no use trying to escape." He said, "The Professor needs human test subjects for her new clinical trial. If you cooperate, there is a chance you can go home and be famous. If not, she may kill you, and let's face it, Clara, no one wants to die."
"Don't. Call. Me. Clara." She spat; she hated him. Over her dead body would she cooperate with him, or any of this 'Professor's' little cronies.
"Okay then, Ms. Oswald, Today, I'm going to take tissue samples and blood tests, which shouldn't be too bad, as long as you stay still and calm."
"I hate you." she blurted out.
"That was sudden, and to answer your question before, the 'why' question that was followed but you thrashing around like a dead fish, was because you are, and I quote, a strong, independent woman who is persistent and tolerant and exceptionally clever."
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked. He smiled at her, a friendly smile with murderous content.
"What's the fun in telling you that?"
She put up a fight on her way over to the table. She managed to give him a black eye before he was forced strap her down and sedate her. Her arm was sore and she was tired, but she decided if she couldn't escape, she would try, with every fabric in her being, to make his life as much as a living hell as possible. She didn't sleep that night either- she was scared of the monsters of her dreams.
The man and woman came in the next morning, blindfolded her and strapping her to the chair. The man left first, leaving the woman.
"I'm sorry." She whispered in her ear. "I'm Amy. And I'll try to get you out before the Professor does anything too drastic. I promise, okay."
She nodded her head slightly to signify that she understood. Amy turned and left the room without saying a word. She imagined again- what a wonderful gift, imagination. She pictured what the Doctor would look like today, perhaps his black eye would make his chin look less prominent, or his eyes a little less hurt and a little angrier. Maybe he wouldn't have his floppy bow tie on today, maybe he would look a little angrier and a little less sympathetic - she wanted him to be angry.
"Good morning, Ms. Oswald." He said.
"I would say the same, but I'm greeted with your lovely face, so that would be a completely rubbish statement."
"Lovely face, eh?" he said with a sly grin littered on his face.
"If it makes you sleep at night." She responded and decided to just be quiet.
"So today," he said, while opening her folder, we're going to take an x-ray of your chest cavity, then your free to go."
She snorted; she was anything but free in this place. He looked at her as if to say what's so funny, apparently he didn't get the memo that she was a captive- she was a test subject, taken and held against her will. Her stomach rumbled, and she was shocked when he reached inside his tweed jacket and pulled out an apple and offered it to her.
"Apple's are rubbish," he looked at it once more before putting it in her mouth, because her hands were strapped to the chair. She took a bite, and he turned her so she could keep eating, "I don't know why I took it this morning. Maybe it was the universe telling me to; I'm not sure." She finished the apple and smiled for the first time since she was taken.
"Thank you." she said in all honesty.
"Yeah, well," he said, "it was only because apples were rubbish. Besides, you can't be taking medical tests on an empty stomach." He said, but he wasn't looking at her. She seemed to think that he looked embarrassed or ashamed of his actions. But, this small act of 'unintentional' kindness wasn't enough to change her mind. She still hated him; there was nothing anyone could do about it.
She made it difficult for him to take her to the x-ray machine, but, she wasn't as rebellious with her actions against him today, partially because she was exhausted from not getting any sleep and partly because she just didn't want to move her arm, because it hurt so bad. He tried to make conversation again, but he soon got the message that she just wasn't interested.
She finished, and Amy and the man came to collect her. They put her in her room, and locked the door. She was alone, and alone was good. She could formulate a plan for escape, something that would hurt them; it would have to be something big- like a rebellion, something that started from within and worked its way out. It would have to be a plan that was bigger on the inside- something that seemed so undoubtedly simple, but was really complicated- something like her.
She didn't sleep that night either. Amy came during the morning and brought her some oatmeal and water. It wasn't much, but she was starving and dehydrated, so it was like a feast. Amy didn't say anything to her and took away the tray when she was finished. The man came in after she left and announced that the Doctor was going to see her in her room today, and that she should be prepared for him to come, and he left the room as quietly as a mouse.
"Hello, Ms. Oswald." He greeted. She wasn't nearly as enthusiastic.
"Go away." She said gruffly. He ignored her.
"You're getting a new room today." He said. "There's an actual bed in it, and clothes and a shower."
To say she was exited would be an understatement.
"Then tomorrow, since their examining the blood and tissue samples and x-ray today were going to take measurements."
She didn't want to know what the measurements were for, but she did want to know why he didn't seem so cheery about her getting these measurements. Was it that he learned to care for her within three days or so that she had been here? Even if he did, the fact was that every passing day she hated him more and more.
He tied a blindfold around her head and led her out the door. He grabbed her shoulders and guided her to where she was to go, and he let go of her for a brief moment to open something, most likely a door, and then returned to her and guided her in.
It was warm in this room, and there was carpet. She removed the blind fold herself, reluctant to let him help her with anything else because of what tomorrow had in store. It was a tiny room, she observed, it had a little door way in the corner, without a door, where she guessed the bathroom was, and a bed in the opposite corner. In contrast with the other room, this one was a crisp white, and had one window. There was a dresser by the door.
She was too busy looking through the things to notice him go, but she didn't care. She grabbed clothes and headed to the shower, where she scrubbed herself and put on the clean clothes. She collapsed on her bed and cried. She missed her dad- she was wondering if he was okay. She drifted off to sleep, which she was granted.
She had no nightmares, just dreams of what she should have been doing instead of being here, in this hell hole. She dreamt of teaching her English class and seeing her dad. These thoughts distracted her and were so much better than the thoughts of tomorrow and the reality of the nightmare she was living out.
Hello! sorry your not getting a new installment of Knowledge this week- i really haven't had any ideas on what to do with it at this point- if you do have any suggestions regarding that story leave a review or PM. i feel really bad about not updating that.
But anyway, this was an idea that i came up with during lab the other day- no, i wasn't torturing people or anything, i don't know, it was like a little plot bunny came hopping along my path and just wanted me to pick it up.
So, i hope you enjoy this and stuff, its RATED T FOR A REASON- THERE WILL MOST LIKELY BE GORY SCENES AND INTENSE ACTION SEQUENCES AND EXPLICIT LANGUAGE- so please, if you are not comfortable with that stuff, this story is not for you.
alright, that should be all...
oh yeah, and for all you whoufflepuffs out there, this is a whouffle story because its like my favorite OTP right now...
XOXO,
bleuboxes (formerly disenchanted fangirl)
AN 2: okay I'm proofreading this because it needs t be done, I will ventually get to all of my stories, ut seeing as this one is by far my most popular one, I'm going to start with it.