A/N: What would have happened if the key hadn't have gone down the drain?
One big inhale, a choke, the water rushing through your lungs. You gasp and try to find the air that has been lost from your lungs. You pull your head up and coughs, gasping, finding much needed - much stale air. You gripped hold of the dirty bath and throw yourself out, water sloshing over the sides, your left arm hitting the hard and dirty white tiled floor. A grunt escapes your lips, it was dark all around you. You stand and try to move around, you feel the chain on your leg and scream for him, feeling for the walls. You find a pipe and it startles you.
Then a voice, a voice that scares you, it's soft and hoarse, in the dark, you can't see where it's coming from. You wish you could. You really did. But you can't. No amount of squinting will help you see. You call for them, ask them for a light, and when you are presented with no light, you panic. You hate the dark. You feel around more, and a pungent stench hits you, you want to gag, it's making your eyes sting. The voice, he tells you to be quiet, you don't know how he can be so calm.
A click, and the lights come on, strip by strip, the power blinds you, impairs you. All you can do is blink, blink to try and get your vision back, in front of you are red spots, until they go you wait. When they're gone, you look around the room, a dirty old bathroom, the bath you were in, still filled with water, a toilet, next to you, all but over flowing, and that smell fills you once again. You notice sinks, and a urinal across the room next to him. A dishevelled blond man, older than you, his blue shirt dirty, covered in sweat, a bruise on his left cheek, and the same fear you know that is on your features, on his.
You recognise him. You've been following him.
He's looking around, and your eyes centre to the middle of the room, you move forward when you see it. A body, blood around his head, a tape recorder in one hand, and a gun in the other. You curse, and turn away when the sight gets the better of you, and you retch.
You see your leg once more, and scream tugging at the cast iron chain, it's heavy, you tug and tug, screaming more, trying to pull it free from the pipe that it is chained to. You fall down and try to pull your leg out. All you feel is panic, your body is aching with fear, more than anything else. Your chest is tightening, and your voice is hurting, but that doesn't stop you from crying out for help.
He calms you down, and asks your name, you don't tell him yours, you panic more, and want to know what's happened. He doesn't know, but his name is Lawrence, he's a doctor, and he's going to take care of you, you hope. You really do hope that he will. It's then that you wonder if he knew what you had been doing, would he try and calm you down then. You highly doubt that. He asks if you're hurt, and you nod, though you don't know where. You jump back down and tug at the chain again, you mumble about the body, and he watches you. That's when your mind goes straight to stories you have read, and films you have seen about peoples organs being taken, you pull your shirt up and try to see any possible scarring. Lawrence tells you that you'd be dead if that was what would have happened. You believe him, he knows best, he has the qualification after all.
The second time he asks for your name, you lapse into silence, and watch him. Adam, is all you utter. Lawrence rambles on for a while, and you listen, though inside you don't want to. You want to get the fuck out of there, and find help at the bottom of a bottle. You don't drink often, but now, now you need it.
"That clock," he whispers, and you look up, 10:20. You don't know whether that is the morning or afternoon, but you don't care. He reaches over to the door, a big yellow door that reminds you of a storage unit. You pat yourself down, hoping to find something – anything. Your back pocket is an envelope in a zip-lock bag, you open it and the letter, your frown at the tape inside it.
Lawrence pats himself down like you did, and he manages to find one in his pocket, he pulls out the same tape and a key. Your eyes widen, as does his, you watch in anticipation as he tries to unlock the chains. When they do not unlock, you tell him to pass it over, and he does. You try both locks and throw the key down when you fail.
Your eyes run to the tape recorder in the dead man's hand, you slide on the floor, and try to reach it. You're too far away, as is Lawrence; you are about ready to give up. As with everything else you want to do. You sigh, he tells you to try with your shirt. For a moment, you are confused, and then you realise, and try it, over and over again. It was useless. You look around to find something, anything, and you look in the bathtub – still full of the murky water you had been in for god knows how long. You feel around for the plug, your hand jolts back when you feel something else... A key chain... You pull it out and place it in your pocket without letting Lawrence know.
This could be your way out of here.