Chapter 50
Lisa stood over him, covered in blood, eyes filled with madness. "Why didn't you help me Ianto? All you had to do what save me and you let me die. Was it a relief? No longer having to care for me? No longer having your burden of a girlfriend tied to your back?"
"No! It was never like that. I loved you." Ianto pleaded with her.
"Right. Loved. I'm just a distant memory to you. Not worth a moment of your time," she scoffed at him.
"You're wrong." Ianto felt the wracking sobs fighting to break free. "You're so wrong."
Ianto woke up uneasily from his brief nap. Even when the drug was not actively working its way through his system, it haunted his nightmares, giving no respite from the horrors it brought to mind. The rusted camp bed creaked and groaned as he sat up. He looked around the dingy cell warily. He now was reduced to living in fear of a syringe. He knew that it wasn't real, the effects of the drug, but it was harder and harder to hold on to that knowledge. He felt like he was going mad in this cell. He had to escape. He didn't know what he would do once he exited the facility, it wasn't like he knew where he was or had anywhere to go. He only knew that he couldn't stand it much longer waiting for and dreading the drug. Seeing all the things he wished he could forget, hearing all the self-recriminations he held close to him spoke by those who could hurt him the most. He needed to get out of there.
He stared meditatively at a patch of what he thought must be alien mold, wondering where his last attempt went wrong. There had to be a way out of the building; it wasn't like the guards would only traverse from his old cell to his new cell. Perhaps he had missed some subtle marker for a corridor when he first tried. No matter how much he thought it over, he realized that he would never know unless he tried again. He saw the needle out of the corner of his eye. He had given up trying to escape it. As he felt it enter his veins, he resolved to mount another escape attempt at the next opportunity.
Ianto had noticed that the new guard did not change the protocol for bringing in his meal trays. He couldn't decide if there were incompetant or arrogant. Either way, he decided that repeating his initial attempt would not be a good move. Rather than knocking the guard unconscious, he decided to overcome him, tie him up with the sheets, and then make a break for it.
Eight meals later, he had his chance.
Making sure that the guard was secured tightly, he crept into the hallway. He realized abruptly that this hallway was not the same that he entered through. This door was located on a different wall. He struggled to remember if they used the same wall every time they entered his cell but his mind was still foggy from the drug.
Examining the walls carefully as he proceeded, he noted that they were absolutely seamless, like one long expanse of uncut metal. He wiped sweat out of his eyes. The hall seemed to be on a slight incline, another feature he didn't recognize. It was quite a bit longer as well. As he kept walked, not finding any sort of abnomality on the corridor, he began sweating heavily, soaking through his clothing. As he thought he might pass out from the sweltering heat, he saw a corner. Smiling he turned it before recognizing his mistake. It wasn't a corner. It was another cell. He fell to the floor in exhaustion and despair as he felt the door behind him seal. This cell was significantly smaller and equally as warm as the corridor he had just been in.
He lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. There was no bed, a hole for a toilet. The cell was only just large enough for him to lay flat on the floor. He felt, rather than saw the needle come from the wall and closed his eyes against the tears. He was so tired. Tired of the endless visions, the torture, the emotional pain. He just wanted to go home. Go to Jack. But he was never going to get out of here alive. Escape was a useless endeavor. He had no choice but to wait and hope that someone would be able to rescue him from this hell.
