Trowa Barton groaned. He was in a lot of pain, and he felt like he was about to pass out. He tried to dodge a heavy blow aimed at his stomach, but his weakened muscles couldn't move fast enough and he doubled over in pain. It swept over him in waves and he knew he was close to losing consciousness. Apparently his torturers knew it too, because the last thing he heard was, "Back to his cell," before he was lost in a pool of blackness.
~*~*~*
Hours later Trowa woke up in the pitch-black cell he had called home for the past two months. He felt he was going to be sick but could only retch painfully as he hadn't eaten in several days. In addition to physical torture and isolation in a pitch-black 5x7 cell, they were trying to starve him. But he was Trowa Barton. He wouldn't crack, right? Trowa wasn't so sure anymore. With constant beatings, continuous darkness, and no end in sight, he was hard-pressed to find any hope. He laid back and stared into the endless blackness. Suddenly a shaft of light broke through the darkness. Trowa stared in wonder and blinked at the brightness, all the while thinking he was dreaming. He stuck his hand into the light as if to test its reality. His eyes followed the light to its source. A pair of green eyes watched him through the tiny slot in the cell door.
"Hungry?" The speaker's voice sounded young and had a rough quality to it. Trowa did not usually bother conversing with the guards, but he detected something different in this one's voice; a lack of cruel sarcasm and disdain. When he failed to answer, the guard began to turn away. Trowa quickly mustered the last of his strength to reply.
"Why, sick of starving me?" The guard stopped mid-turn and spun around.
"So you can speak. I would watch the sarcasm if I were you." The guard's voice now had a playful, teasing tone. Another section of the door opened and a grubby hand wearing a glove with the fingers cut off pushed a food-filled tray through the opening. Then the section closed and the green eyes appeared once more in the tiny slot. "Be careful, Barton." The guard switched on a dim light in the cell, shut the slot in the door, and left. Trowa dragged himself over to the tray and was surprised to find that it contained more than just the slop they called food. There was also a small roll of paper. He unrolled it curiously and found the following words scrawled in brown ink:
Ten o'clock shift change.
Tomorrow night. Be ready.
Trowa looked in the paper in wonder. Be ready? For what? Was someone actually crazy enough to try and break him out of here?
*Author's notes: Did ya like the beginning ch? I hope so! I know it is very short but more will be coming soon. I promise. Thanks to Cactuskitty for being my guinea pig and reading my new story ideas for me. More to come soon, and reviews are appreciated!