Darkness.
For the longest time, it was all she could see. All she was aware of. All she knew.
A slight chill against the subconscious of her mind, and nothing more. Bit and fragments haunted her dreams...memories?
She wasn't sure anymore. It was all give and take now.
She couldn't remember the last time she had breathed the scent of fresh air...even salty air. They had transported her here by ship hadn't they? She could vaguely remember the rigorous rocking of the riptides, throttling her within her crate to and fro. Bruises had faded away into average pigmentation. The proof of her wears...long gone.
Her fingers trailed along her arm, feeling every tingle of her skin, every pulled follicle, every inch her nails grazed. The relentless drips of a leaking pipe echoed throughout the cells, her sense of time linked with the pitter pat of the knocking waves.
No…
No longer waves.
The waves had stopped long ago. Her cheek pressed against the cool stone, spine unbalanced on the rocky terrain as her hips tilted askew, legs bare save for the thin flannel shorts she had been spared. Feet bare.
The sleeve she had rolled up bound the pressure in her bicep, but she ignored it for the time being. The uniform spandex she wore encased her chest and torso, up to the base of her jaw and tightly across her wrists. Hardly warm. She felt every breeze.
Her lips parted for a brief moment, inhaling gently. Timely. Before the whisper broke through, a subtle reminder before her memory abandoned her, like all else.
"Rachel."
It echoed within the vacancy of her mind, recalling all she could attached to that name. All she had been. It wasn't much. But it had been more than now. She swallowed, feeling the pressure of her throat push against the rugged bricks she had chosen to lay across, her own iron bed hidden away in the shadows. Undone.
Neither was warmer than the other. It didn't matter. The rusted metal often sprung through the sheets, trying to desperately break their way into her spine, alerting all else of her presence.
She preferred the quiet. The dark.
To be alone where no one could hurt her.
The shadows encased her, save a sliver of amber light faded across her hand. Hallway light. Those who had freedom were permitted to see. Permitted to work. They controlled everything. A nameless had made his rounds earlier, followed by a delivery of the basic necessities. A meal. Soap. Toilet paper. Mouth wash. An empty notebook and a piece of charcoal.
She was permitted the latter for proper behavior. So they said.
They collected the nonsense she scripted. Meaningless.
But the ones that meant...meant something. Hidden away in the confinement of her springs. Slipped into the undergarments of her chest. The symbols that would not leave her mind. Her dreams. Her memories.
She was not permitted freedom of personal effects. She had assumed all eyes were consistently monitoring. She shuffled papers carefully, dressed carefully, blended her flow carefully. She was aware of all things, said and not, a collector of trinkets she claimed for her own. Her dim eyes monitored just as agonizingly, dependent on the information they gathered for her.
The nameless had yet to grow bored with her, always intrigued by their data, thirsting for more. She had learned to control it. They had been pleased. She had lost control. Still...they were pleased. Her actions affected nor rhyme nor reason to the doses of her rewards or punishments. Their logic was flawed. But brilliance required a factor. Who was funding this? The cells...the food...the upkeep? The numerous nameless? The...tests?
Her fingers curled away from the light, eyes clicking up as a set of heels echoed, threatening the greys of her chamber with a spark of colorful resonance. Cold and prophetic. And then, nothing.
Her finger scraped along the stone, gazing upon it, unfeeling. Along the trail, the tiniest of rubble popped from its place, pausing the journey of her hand before she focused on it, staring.
Staring.
Staring…
The pebble did nothing at first. Jagged, a musty clay in color. The browns burned away into the darkest of blacks, a bright burst of violet hue encasing it in a powerful leech. It staggered for a moment, lifting in her entertainment before dissipating away, and the stone fell, chipping into little debris as it rolled off toward the gate. She could control it...if she could control herself. This was what they wanted.
She only gave them pieces.
The tiniest of sparks were undetected by preying eyes. Practiced bursts. But practice, nonetheless.
Her eyes lifted as the lights suddenly shifted yellow in color, alerting her to the unknown presence traveling down her hallway. Unwarranted. Unless...another test.
A screech jolted her thoughts, a spring on her bed shooting through the covers. Clutching her neck, she took a solid breath, focusing. Focusing.
"This one...relocated to the last cell in block A. Tango, Project Bravo. They're real proud of this one."
The voice muffled in the widened ceilings, but carried over for her prying ears. She could sense them all, three in total. Two souls relaxed and sound. The third...angry.
Very angry.
Another screech, the enraged shuffling knocking into and within the crate, but to no avail.
"Is the cell prepped?"
"We had the bed installed a week ago. It should hold him steady."
"Good. We're just waiting for the sedation to kick in. Under no circumstances is anyone to transfer him without my authorization, is that understood?"
"Crystal, sir. Should I just make the drop off then?"
"Yes, that's fine. I'll be back in an hour or so. He should be down by then."
A bit of shuffling. The cart squeaked steadily as the weight of the life within added stagger to the nameless transporting him along, closer and closer to her own cell. She remained flat against the stone as the lives drew nearer, blended with the shadows of her own confinement.
"You oughta feel honored. They transformed garbage into something shiny and new. Recycling. Ever hear of that word? Recycling?"
Her eyes locked on the edge of her gate, the corner of the crate slivering through before tilting forward flat. Resting.
Wooden, steel, and solid, save for a tiny break in the wood. Air.
The shadows within shuffled about, rocking the crate desperately, but damage proof. All for naught.
"You're one heavy piece of trash, you know that?"
The crate paused in movement, a single sniff collecting information.
She felt the anger subside for curiosity. Sudden anxiety. Fear.
A dark growl emitted before the box was tilted back, jetted forward, and carted past her cell without a second thought. It was a while before the lights dimmed back to amber. A while before the howls became weak and drugged. A while before she nodded off to sleep. Back into what she knew best.
Darkness.
Hey guys, this is just a short story I'm writing while I have the most minimal of free time during the last weeks of my thesis. I'm testing myself to see how much story I can dish out in a short amount of time. Also, I'm not usually the AU writing type, but this idea came to me last night, and for some reason, I really dug it, so I figured why not.