Sudden sounds on the other side of the door jolted him awake. He was still seated where he had fallen. Quickly, he rose and walked to the center of the room deciding against going to sit on the mattress.
The sounds of locks opening and bolts moving seemed to go on forever. Mike shook out his legs, which were numb from sitting in the same position for God knows how long. A creaking came from the door as it swung open at a ridiculously slow pace.
He was glad he had chosen to stay in the center of the room. From this position he could see everything much more clearer.
Finally, the door was open enough for him to make out what was on the other side. The door, he could see, was not his only barricade. There was still a sturdy looking gate in front of it. Beyond that was darkness and if a room lay within that space he could not make it out.
A voice from beyond the gate made him jump slightly with surprise, even though he was expecting it.
"This is temporary. Don't get too comfortable."
As the man moved closer to the gate he could make out his silhouette. The body that had once been so familiar to him. He shivered and looked away.
In the gate, in that space where the latch and lock should have gone, there was a square shaped hole. Through there he held a small plastic into the room.
He didn't say a word as he held it out. Mike hurried to stand up and took the bowl quickly before the man could change his mind.
Rice. The bowl was full of rice. He was starving. Greedily, he tucked into his simple meal as the man stood and watched him. He was done within minutes. The hunger pangs more pronounced than they previously had been. He longed for something more but, wisely, said nothing. He stood once again. Walked to the gate and held the bowl in front of the hole in the gate. No hands from outside reached in to take it back. Gradually he moved his hands more and more forward until they were through the hole and out the other side.
Two seconds. Three. Four. Five
Pain shooting through his right hand. He had dropped and retracted his hand almost unconsciously. He held his arm to his to his chest. Tears straining down his face. The sound of the receding footsteps in the background. He sat down hard on the mattress. Working up the courage to look at his hand, only to look away disgusted. The skin around the knuckles was shredded and bloody. The parts of his hand not covered in blood were turning purple and beginning to swell.
More footsteps in the background heading towards the room. He stood outside the door, watching him.
"That one was for not asking first," his voice was harsh ; cold and robotic.
"Give me your other hand."
Mike hesitated. He could not find it within himself to move.
"Give. Me. Your. Other. Hand." the man did not yell, but rather, he said it in such a way that Mike knew not to trifle with him.
He placed his left hand out of the hole and waited -
This time around heard a 'sshwip' through the air before the object came down on his knuckles. Tears that he tried to keep back burned his eyes. He began to pull his hand away when, quick as a snake, the man had his wrist held in a vice - like grip.
"That was for not being grateful." he squeezed Mikes wrist ever so slightly.
"This. This is for not obeying me immediately."
Mike screamed as the torture device came down on the fresh wound. Tears freely falling down his cheeks. He held his hand to his chest, whimpering softly. Blood gushed from the wound staining his clothes and the dirt brown floor.
"Why are you doing this?" he yelled. "Why? Answer me! Trevor! Trevor!"
But Trevor continued to walk away.