So I guess I'm continuing. But it's still in experimentation stages.
After the man with the water there was nothing to break the darkness for a long time. Sam didn't know how long, she didn't count the hours. She had no way to, not unless she counted each second in her head and marked the minutes in the dirt. Even then she couldn't see them; she'd run out of space and have to move down the room. Then when it was covered she'd erase the proof of her existence she'd collected with every step she took. All she could do was guess at day or night by the intensity of the light when it did come. Harsher brightness meant it was dark outside, the light was artificial. When the glow was softer it was still day light. They didn't come often enough for her to log the days like this.
She thought she'd lose her fear after so long in the dark alone but it only seemed to intensify. The panic came closer to consuming her entirely each time they clicked the door shut behind them. It was the helplessness that she hated. She was trapped in it with no promise of eluding. The decision was out of her hands and she didn't know when she'd be out of it or if she ever would. And with that came vulnerability. Not only because she couldn't see what might be around her, but because she was at their mercy.
She tried not to show them that. She never knew when they would come so she didn't cry. If she felt tears prickling she wiped them away before they'd even begun to fall and whenever she heard the too gentle click of the lock she erased all expression. To look happy would be too false, to be afraid would be weak. She had to be nothing. If they couldn't read her it would infuriate them. They'd probably know she was terrified anyway but without the proof of her twisted mouth and the plea in her eyes they could only hope.
She didn't demand answers either. If they wanted her to know anything they'd tell her and if she asked it'd only give them power. She'd see the gleam in their cold eyes as she begged why she was there, what they wanted with her, what they were going to do, who were they. They had enough power and if she could win only small victories she'd take them if she could feel just that tiny slither less pathetic. She didn't ask her own questions and she didn't answer theirs, but she knew they would only take that for so much longer. They were giving her a chance, tricking her into trusting them, to thinking they might let her go if she told them what they wanted to know. They couldn't be all evil if they weren't torturing it out of her. But they would. Soon.
Something dripped onto her cheek and dribbled like a tear to the bottom of her chin where it fell to give the dry ground moisture she was not granted. Another followed it. She was sitting under a leak. Should I drink it? The thought was dismissed almost as quickly as it had come. It could be anything. It didn't burn her skin, but it might be water riddled with disease. They might want her to drink it and in taunt her with the medicine she'd need to keep her on the fringes of life; they'd give her a little in exchange for every answer.
The door creaked and a dusting of light sprinkled the floor, but did not quite touch Sam's corner. She jumped to her feet immediately, her hands curled into fists, poised for a fight. But there was just a thud and then a slam and the blackness was instant. The hopelessness almost made her crumble back to the floor, but a sound coming from it kept her standing. Something was scraping against the dust. There was another gentle thud and a whispered shit. Sam's fists shot in front of her, already protecting her face. Adrenaline pumped through her, ready to shoot out at anyone who attacked.
Squinting through the darkness she could see a figure almost as dark as the world around them, but Sam's eyes were used to the darkness and she could make out the shape of a man. He was taller than her and built more strongly, but he wasn't watching her. She had the advantage. At the same time as he finally scrambled off the floor she leapt at him, flinging him against the wall with her body pinning him to it.
His yell rung through the blackness, a cry of fear and surprise. A reaction Sam had not bargained for. Why was he so shocked if he was there to attack her? Unless he was acting so she would relax. Perhaps they wanted to gain her trust before they broke her as they were trying to do by not kicking the names of her team out of her. She drilled the pad of her thumb into his temple, keeping one arm pinned across his stomach and arms, digging in hard enough to compress his lungs. "I know just where to hit to make you forget every face you've ever seen." She twisted her thumb in harder. "Or perhaps you'd like to pay someone to wipe the dribble off your face."
The man just stared. He didn't even struggle beneath her. "You look different to the others. You're a woman."
"Well spotted," Sam spat. "That doesn't mean I can't take away your family with one punch."
"The wall outside my house," he said slowly, keeping his gaze trained her to face although it couldn't have properly adjusted to the lack of light, "is only four foot high." In a moment her feet were gone from beneath her and her arms were twisted behind her back and his hand was tight around the nape of her neck. The pain ceased all coherent thoughts. His hand had such a strong grip on her arm that she could feel the shape of each finger.
But then almost as quickly as he had sprung he released her and then she did collapse, slumping to the floor with colours dancing in her vision. "You're not them," he whispered, as if he were afraid his voice would awaken something in the darkest crevices of the cell. There was something shimmering on his fingers. Blood, Sam guessed. It took her a while to realise it was from her. With the knowledge came the stinging of the reopened wound they'd given her when they came with her food. The cost of survival, they had said.
"What is your name?" He wasn't one of those who had taken her, she was almost sure of it. But his voice sounded wrong. She didn't hear any at all unless it was accompanied by a stretch of brightness and a cold tremble of fear that she refused to cave to. She shouldn't hear one with the inky blackness still enshrouding her and a gentle tint that was beginning to lure her into calm. She didn't answer his question.
"I'm Leandro," he offered, "Leo if you're not going to break my neck." Sam lifted her head. He was sitting several feet away from her out of reaching distance. His hands were tucked behind his knees which were drawn towards him. She could attack before he had a chance to defend himself and it was that reason that kept her rooted to her spot. He was giving her the chance to win. He'd told her his name. They'd locked the door behind him.
"You're a prisoner," she told him.
"I'm enjoying the scenery," he said, not sarcastically. More as if he was correcting her. Sam smiled in the dark.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Surreal," agreed Leo.
o0o
When another bottle of water rolled across the crack of light spreading through the floor, Sam moved to take it before she remembered she was no longer the only one in the cell. She still jumped when Leo moved or spoke, but their words were few. Sam had barely had need to speak for so long that her voice scratched at her throat and his words sounded too strange. She was so tired anyway that it was an effort to speak. The advantage to her medical knowledge was she knew just what was happening. The disadvantage being she knew she had around two days left to get some water before her dehydration killed her.
But Leo was picking it up and unscrewing the cap. Sam stared as he took a short drink, feeling something fall away from her stomach that she couldn't explain. Then he recapped it then rolled it along the floor to her. She picked it up, rolled it around her palms and the thing missing resettled itself. He hadn't taken a lot, less than a quarter. Just enough to keep him going until they got some more in hours or days to come. They'd come sooner now Leo was there too. She'd already figured out they didn't want to kill her, at least not yet. They wanted names from her first, other prisoners, and then they wanted it to be slow.
"You've been here longer than I have," Leo offered as a way of explanation. "You've got to be in worse shape." Sam didn't argue, although she hated that description. She knew from the cracks in her lips, the headache piercing her skull and the constant ache of eyes that wanted to close that she was. She didn't intend to drink all of it, but once she had started she didn't stop. It was too soothing against her torn throat. And when the last drop was gone a roll of dread flipped through the pit of her heart. She was back at the end of their mercy.
"How often do they come?"
Sam shrugged, then muttered, "I don't know," when she realised he couldn't see her. "You lose track of time, there's no way to keep up," she expanded after a pause. Leo didn't say a word and the two fell back into silence.
It both comforted Sam and left her with a gaping, aching loneliness that Leo was there. He was company and he was kind and it made her feel a little less vulnerable huddled in the dark knowing she had someone else to fight. But his shape was unfamiliar, his voice was that of a stranger and it only reminded her of what she had once had. What she could have still had and would never get back. It was like having a lover she could see only twice per year; some would say it was better than nothing at all, and anyone who was in the depths of it would say the same. Only someone who'd had such a lonely relationship taken from them would realise it was far less painful to go without.
The ache grew so strong that she curled into herself to quench it, glad that Leo could not see her. But his eyes would soon adjust as well as hers had done and then there would be no hiding.
Sam's eye lids snapped open at the sudden brightness behind them and they stung painfully, immediately wanting to close again. It was the same man who had offered her a second bottle of water. Wonky Nose. And before he'd even opened his mouth she knew from the bottle dangling from his left hand what he was going to say. He didn't look at her, but at Leo. "You can have this, and more every day, as much as you need." The light was still too harsh to make out her cell mate's reaction, but she was sure he'd be sceptical. He'd know they wanted something too. "If she gives me what I want."
Sam didn't have to look at Wonky Nose to know he was watching her, but eventually she did. She lifted her head so her gaze met his with flames of hatred licking inside it. "Fuck you," she spat.
Wonky Nose only chuckled. He crouched so he was level with her and she kept her stare on him, as if breaking the contact for even a moment would mean her own death. She didn't even break it when he leaned in so close she thought he was going to steal what she wouldn't give. She tasted cinnamon. "Exactly princess." He grinned and the pad of his thumb glided along her jaw. She swatted it so hard that the slap bounded from the four walls. He chuckled again and stood and at last his back was facing her.
And then her gaze was at last broken when she saw nothing but his figure blur before she fell hard against the dirt coated floor and her head exploded with spasms of agony. She didn't see the light go out, only heard the door slam and Leo's voice calling out to her. "Miss?" She didn't want to answer him. She'd failed to get them both what they needed, but she could hear him shuffling towards her and wanted him to touch her even less.
"What?" She shot, bluntly.
He laughed, gently. Nothing like the dark chuckle that Wonky Nose had directed at her. "I just wondered if you were okay, crazy girl."
"Crazy?" Sam raised her eyebrows, even though he couldn't see. Slowly the cell was coming back into focus. The eternal darkness fell back around her vision.
"You attacked me the first time we met," he reminded her and a smile tugged at her lips.
"What do you expect when you burst into a woman's room uninvited?" She struggled to push herself up, brushing away Leo's offered hand. For the first time she was glad of the dark. The tilting room was far less obvious and she swallowed down her nausea.
"Well I'm afraid all the time you're withholding your identity, I only know you as crazy."
Sam tried to roll her eyes, but it hurt. She was tired. She guessed it was late because the indoor light had been on when the door was opened, but she knew she couldn't sleep until she was sure that was the only reason for wanting to.
"So what were you doing when you were invited the join the party?" She heard Leo's breath catch.
"I was on my way to assess a soldier when the truck was attacked. They took me and left the driver. They asked me for names and then they put me in here where I was attacked by a mad girl in outsized clothing."
"I didn't chose the outfit," Sam protested. They had chosen it for her. She'd been dragged into a plain, bare room with drapes over the windows and thrown the bundle at her. They'd demanded she change right there and then with at least four men watching her. They could have torn the uniform off her themselves, but they much preferred to watch her have to take off her own identity, stripping her of her pride and power. There had been underwear in the bundle too.
"So you're a psychiatrist?" She asked in a way of changing the subject.
Leo nodded. "What about you? Soldier?"
"Doctor." She brushed her fingers along the side of her head. It was dry but even that gentle pressure caused a hiss of pain. "Maybe they're recruiting a team." It was a terrible joke, but somehow it eased the dread just a hair-width fraction. It was not that she believed it, more the mocking that stole a little power from their captors.
Question: does anyone have any preferences on whether I should keep this story only to Sam and what's happening here, or should I branch out and write either memories or even flit to what's going on in the ED, if everyone knows she's missing/how they're coping etc. I do have ideas and things, but the general plot outline I have is flexible enough so I can fit in other POV's if anyone would prefer.
