Rosenkreuz… sweet Rosenkreuz Ch. 8: The Pit

Bren awoke, confused.  He wasn't in his bed… he wasn't even in his dorm.  His head hurt terribly.  He was laying on a chilly, white-tiled floor, all he could see was a white-tiled wall about two feet from his head.  Pushing himself up on shaky arms, he shuffled over to the wall and sat back against it.  He cradled his aching head in his hands and waited for the most recent wave of pain to ebb.  When his mind cleared, he opened his eyes again and took a look around.

The room was only about five by eight feet, tiled entirely in white, florescent lights behind metal grates in the ceiling.  There was a narrow cot on the wall opposite and a toilet/sink contraption in the corner.  There was no window.  The door had no handle on the inside, only a narrow slot at the bottom that obviously opened from the outside, and a small viewing window covered with a grate that was also covered on the outside. 

That was it.  No pillow on the cot, no blanket, no table or chair, nothing on the walls. 

A cell.

That was the only thing he could think of.  He was in a cell.  He tried to remember what had happened… suddenly, as if a dam had burst forth, the memories rushed back.  The instructor… his office… the Bitch's complaints… the man unfastening his pants… and then… and then…

Oh shit!

The Pit.  He'd finally done it.  Taken him till his third year but he'd done something bad enough to land him in the pit.  With that realization came a sudden chill… his shields… were gone.

**

It had taken him a couple hours to get over to the cot.  He was curled up on it, his limbs shaking, but not from cold… from trying to keep everyone else's thoughts out.  He'd managed to cobble together some very rudimentary shields.  Paper-thin and flimsy as hell… but they were buffering some of the pressure.  The problem was… they were only there by sheer will… as soon as he stopped concentrating or fell asleep… down went the shields.  That had already happened twice.

He heard a rattle by the door, then an odd scraping noise, and a clang.  Sitting up, he saw that a tray had been slid through the slot.  Realizing suddenly that he was starving and probably dehydrated as well… Bran practically fell off the cot and scrambled over to the door.

On the tray was a small bowl of that… stuff they called oatmeal… wall spackle was closer.  A cup of water… and a note.  He tested the porridge… cold… which only made it more disgusting, but he tried to eat it anyways, he would need the energy.  The water in the cup was warm… actually the same temperature as the oatmeal, but again he drank it… he didn't need to get dehydrated on top of everything else.  Only then did he touch the note.

-Schuldich,  Enjoy your stay.  When you are ready to accept my offer, I'll be waiting.  Just tell the guard when they check on you.  Herr Schulz-

Bren shivered in the warm room.

**

He discovered there was no way to turn off the light.  No window… the meals served erratically… no reference for time.  But the screams… the screaming went on all around him.  He couldn't actually hear them… the walls and door were mostly sound proof… but the mental screaming.  Bren didn't know what was happening to the other inmates in this corner of Hell… but their agony was tearing at his mind, eroding his hastily created shields… drawing him INTO their pain.

He tried to focus on other things, the few truly happy moments he'd had.  His favorite toy car he'd had as a boy, a red fire engine… his birthday party when he was five… rooming with Brad…  He tried to fix those images in his mind, so he would have some protection when he slept.  He knew he couldn't hold off sleep forever.  Even as that thought entered his mind, his exhausted body shut down.

And the nightmares began.

**

How long had he been in here?  It seemed like forever.  Had it been days, weeks, or merely hours?  Someone nearby was loosing their mind, mumbled gibberish filling the space where thought should be.  But was it someone else?  Or was it him?  Was he loosing his mind?  Or was it already gone? 

No!  NO!!  Concentrate… the fire engine… red, metal, the wheel on one side that got broken when I stepped on it.  It hurt, remember?  My foot was cut but Maman put a bandaid on it and it was fine.

Screaming… muttering… pain… I'm so tired let me sleep I want to sleep I want to escape let me out of here LET ME OUT OF HERE!  More pain, my pain, no… other's pain, other's thoughts, other's fears…

The birthday party… I was five.  Dieter and Henrik came over.  We had chocolate cake and there were candles on it.  We went down to the park and played hide-and-go-seek till they had to go home.  Dieter gave me a new pack of baseball cards… and he hadn't even taken the gum out.  Henrik…

FUCK!!  What the Hell are they doing to that kid?  Focus… focus…

Henrik… he gave me a couple of his army men, the cheap plastic green kind.  I knew he only had a dozen or so left.  We used to play with them when I was allowed to go over to his place.  We took everything down to the park.  I broke the gum in three pieces and shared it and we puzzled over the baseball cards.  None of us could read yet, though Dieter could sound out the names for us.  Then we played hide-and-seek.  Henrik won.  He always won.  I was too hyper and Dieter was too clumsy. 

Oh God oh God oh God… I can't do this.  I can't keep them out.  Crawford… Brad… what would he do if he were here?  Well, he WOULDN'T be here for one… but he'd be cool, calm… not letting them see his distress…

Cool… calm…

That's not me.

Under the harsh lights, Bren could hear himself screaming…

TBC