[The name of my OC is Lydia Romanoff and is made up by me.]
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Schrödinger asked.
He had taken me to a room that wasn't familiar to me at all. The room was bigger and much fancier than my little cell and everything looked neat and inviting.
"I hope you'll like it, since it's now yours."
"This isn't my room." I said, trying to sound kind but my words were almost bitter and disappointed. Despite my statement, he walked in and sat himself on the bed and wiggled his legs back and forth like it was his own. The room was very different from mine. It was not only larger and had more color in it, the bed was placed on the opposed side of the room, and this one had a nightstand with a bowl of fruit next to it and a matching wardrobe that reached all the way up to the ceiling.
I sighed and gave in to the luxury, even though it felt wrong. I was too tired to walk or argue. The only thing that really bothered me was the walls that were plastered and covered with Nazi flags and placards, ornamental revolvers, steel helmets and quotes from Hitler himself.
The idea that this was Schrödinger's own room struck me.
"Close the door and lock it." he said.
His obtrusiveness made me feel rather uncomfortable, but I did what I was told. I wouldn't want someone to find us either. I walked over to the bed and sat down beside him, noticing how my body sank down in the unbelievable soft mattress. I looked at him.
"Schrödinger." the German name sounded strange from my mouth and seemed like a question. His cat ears perked up, probably from realization that I remembered his name and said it out loud. Or tried to pronounce it right anyway.
"Yes." he said, but still not looking at me. My mind got unoccupied after his reply, so I remained silent and crawled onto the bed further so my back was leaning against the wall. Schrödinger still moved his legs back and fourth, the mattress bouncing up and down slightly. It made me think about stuff that I shouldn't be thinking about in a situation like this. Just when I was going to ask him to stop, he did. Instead he jumped off the bed and grabbed a bright red Snow White-apple from the nightstand.
He took a big bite, his sharp teeth piercing the thin shell with a crack, but he didn't bite all the way through and kept it in-between his lips. With the apple stuck in his mouth, he headed towards the tall wardrobe. When he opened the door, I discovered a full set of military uniforms. But he just jerked them down from their coat hangers and tossed them in a pile on the carpet. I speechlessly watched him as he started to throw out the shoes on the bottom and grabbed hold of a leather bag and rummaged through it like it belonged to him. He made a muffling squeak of some sort, reminding me that the apple was still in his mouth. It sounded like he'd found whatever he had been searching for. After adding the leather bag in the pile of clothing, the wardrobe was pretty much empty and he turned to me and with delighted eyes. He finally took a bite from the apple and munched on it.
"Ta-da!" he exclaimed with apple juice spurting from him mouth. My eyes darted at a small container of Jägermeister liquor in his outstretched hand. He eagerly got rid off the not even half-eaten apple, which fell to the floor and rolled into the pile of military wear topped with the old bag, gathering dust from the carpet on its short-lived journey.
He joined me on the bed again, already fingering on the handle of the travel sized glass bottle, humming a tone of a battle song of some sort that reminded me of a melody sung by soldiers marching into war. Then his lips greeted the bottle and the action snapped me back to my senses.
"Perhaps you shouldn't..." I started carefully. Minding his young age, I tried to grab the bottle away from him but he had already devoured half of the liquor and wouldn't let me touch it. I stared at him like he was a lunatic. Perhaps he was. I couldn't even take a sip of that drink without cringing.
He made a satisfied drinking-moan and clumsily put back the lid on the petite bottleneck and tossed the container in my lap.
"If you wanted some you could've just asked." he said, giggling distantly.
"But I didn't want anything." I explained calmly with a natural seriousness. Schrödinger was looking into my eyes now and everything I had experienced with the boy the past hour replayed in my head and was making me feel so confused and everything had gotten a bit too much for me at this point.
I didn't want to experience more of these strange happenings.
I took a deep breath. I turned to him completely. I pulled up both of my legs on top of the mattress. I could hear the bottle jingle against the floor as I put myself in a comfortable position. Feeling calm and brave enough, I gently placed both of my hands on each cheek of his spotless face; my act made me feel like a mother. His eyes were glossy and more attentive than they've ever been. And then at my own terror, I was realizing it. Even though I was the person touching him, the feeling of his skin on my hands made me embarrassed and I gently let go of his face that seemed to have matured five years during this moment. His gaze was half-lidded and almost seductive, and I slowly waved my hand in front of his face like a pendalion.
"Hey." I heard my own voice breaking at the end and it made me quite certain that I wouldn't find more words to say. He got me. He got me bad and he must've known because his crooked grin widened behind the bars of the fingers on my moving hand.
"Hey." he answered in his own tone of voice. He captured my hand in a first try, removing the movement from his sight.
He couldn't have found a better opportunity, because when my hand was detached from our eye contact, Schrödinger's ears tilted back and he kissed me. Those small lips of his were sticky from the fruit and his breath was poisoned with alcohol. It wasn't more than a peck but I would lie if I said that the spontaneous kiss didn't mean anything and was less than an opportunity taken by a curious teenager. When he had pulled away, he had pulled away so slowly that I could feel his eyelashes tickle the surface of my cheekbones just before his eyes opened.
He had had his eyes closed. Unlike my own, that was wide-open in nothing but unexpected surprise. His gloved hands had a steady grip on my waist, like he was holding a little baby and his stare showed no remorse. The air smelled like licorice and unrecognizable herbs and apple and alcohol. He licked his lips and his hands slowly left my sides. He didn't want to hold this little baby anymore so instead he let her run off on shaky and inexperienced feet. I got a feeling that this little baby wouldn't last long on her own. She would fall, and skin her knees and bruise her chin and she would cry for him to come back and pick her up again.
Schrödinger neglected my eye contact and stood up from the bed without giving me a single glance, only to pick up the liquor bottle that had fallen to the floor. But I was too busy to mind his manners; I was so shocked that I had to actually touch my lips to even believe that it had happened at all. But it couldn't be more real than this. The smell had planted itself on my lips and reached up to my nose like a stubborn perfume.
"Empty." his casual voice said, obviously meaning the container, unless he could look into my mind at this very moment. I didn't look at him. It took a great while for me to finally look at him, and when I did he was occupied with going through some stuff in the wardrobe once again, just like nothing had happened.
My eyes drifted to the glowing red in the Swastika band on his upper arm and I felt empty and nauseous. Even if it was just Schrödinger; a strange boy that could have been my little brother with cat ears and supernatural eyes and paranormal abilities, it felt like I had just kissed a real life villain; a member of the Millennium forces and a minor antagonist in my own story. In discomfort, I consoled myself by hugging my arms and stared down at the spot he had been seated on the slightly messed up sheets.
"I moved you to another room." Schrödinger said and it almost sounded like an attempt to make me feel better.
"In case you're wondering what I'm doing; I'm just cleaning some stuff out to give you more space." he informed, even though I never asked for an explanation. "Isn't that super?" he asked gleefully, his happiness colliding with my gloomy feelings like a firework.
"The bed is more comfortable" he said as he tossed all the clothes and other things in big plastic bags like it was garbage. The cliffhangers rattled against each other as he slammed the doors shut. "and you have much room for your belongings." he added which was a bit ironic since I had been kidnapped and trapped inside this zeppelin with nothing but the clothes I was wearing now; a fancy shirt that got less fancy every day and a pair of trousers and polished indoor shoes.
"Also..." he continued, still sounding as glad. "This room is easier for me to find." he wiped his hands in claps against each other and put them on his hips as he looked down at the black bags with satisfaction. "I shall be your escort from now on." he said, smiling and looked at me for the first time since he kissed me.
The thought came to my like a thrown grenade, and exploded into words that he could hear,
"I liked my last escort." I lied, not even knowing his name or remembering his face. I don't know why I said that. Perhaps I didn't want Schrödinger as my escort. Perhaps I didn't want anything to do with him anymore.
"Why?" he asked calmly dusting his hands off once again as he sat back down on the bed, his eyes on nothing but me. I can't decide what's worse; having him staring so intently at me, or ignoring me completely like he did moment ago. I could not answer his question because I lied about liking my former escort. I had to come up with something, and I came up with it after staring into Schrödinger's reddish eyes for more than allowable long.
"He had a pair of pretty eyes." I said, without looking away. He was looking back at me in amusement, barely blinking at my statement.
"The pretties on board?" he asked. I smiled at his question, it was childlike and simple, but it was another I could not answer.
"I don't know yet." I said. I see new faces every day, and right now, all I can see is Schrödinger's enthralled expression.
"What's his name?" he asked, boycotting our little game. It was fun as long as it lasted.
"Why do you care about who he is?" I asked mischievously, giving him a smug little look of my own, which he only smiled back at. When I just began to believe that I was starting to enjoy his company again, his answer traumatized me like a gun to the head.
"Because his eyes need to be gouged out." he stated. After seeing my reaction, he started laughing but something wasn't right with that laugh.
"And about you…" he began after his laugher had died down.
"What about me?" I asked, imagining the worse scenarios in my head.
"Your eyes." he answered serenely.
My heart dropped to my stomach and not liking what this was leading, I blurted out "Your eyes are the pretties in the world." revealing one of my newest secrets to him, and it was the truth. My curiosity took the best out of me. Again, and Schrödinger? He was looking at me in silence, his eyes speaking for themselves.
"Then it would make things much easier, wouldn't it?" he said.
Yes. Because he wouldn't take his own eyeballs out.
"So that's what you think?" he asked, the grin returning to his face.
"I suppose... for a little kid." I said, and he smiled sadly as I did so.
"So that's what I am?" he whispered so quietly, that it could easily be misheard.
"Good night, Lydia." he said, grinning at me, getting off the bed so suddenly I completely forgot what he was telling me before.
"5:pm" he said, grabbing another apple and tossed it in the air before catching it like it was a ball. I hoped he wouldn't waste this one.
"I shall be hanging on your lock." he said and bent down to pick up the plastic bags.
"Wait." I said, his eyes bolting in my direction. I hesitated only once before I asked "Before you go, can you please tell me whose room this is?"
"Oh! Don't worry about him!" he smiled a toothy smile and waved a gloved hand at me. And then, something dark suddenly embossed his features and erased his innocence. I thought it was the shadows from the door he was about to exit that made him this sinister, but he proved me wrong when he said "He wouldn't recognize this room as his own, since he no longer can see."
Schrödinger bit the fruit and grabbed the belongings of my former escort; plastic bags slung over his shoulder and an apple between the same lips that once had joined mine. I was alone, trapped inside the darkness of the room that wasn't mine and the fear of wanting him near me as quickly as possible ate at me, even though what he might have done. I couldn't sleep because I did not remember Schrödinger opening or closing the door to my room when he left, and I couldn't help thinking that perhaps I was the one who was blinded myself.
I never left the bed. I sat on it for a couple of minutes, trying to take in everything that just happened, only to snuggle myself underneath the covers after eternal thoughts. I looked around the room. It was strange how some of the light somehow disappeared along with Schrödinger.
I didn't know the time. There wasn't a clock inside this room, just like the previous room I had stayed in. I remember when I first got here; I tried to replace the word "cell", with "room" so my captivity shouldn't be too much for me. But to be honest, this was actually much fancier than a simple prison cell. It was a room and it did belong to somebody. It belonged to a soldier, another member of the Millennium Organization.
I didn't know who had stayed here, if it was my last escorts or just one of the other guards but the sheets smelled unfamiliar to me and I just couldn't fall asleep in some stranger's bed. I didn't know how long I've been lying here and I didn't know whose room this was and I didn't know the time and I didn't know what would happen in the morning. All I know is that he will come back to me at 5: pm.
I turned around in the bed. It felt safer to face the wall. That's when I realized something horrible. My eyes went wide-open as I burst up into a sitting position. I examined my hands and my wrists in terror.
The handcuffs were no longer there!
A mix of relief and fear overwhelmed me. If someone found out that I didn't wear any chains, its over. It would be classified as an escape and I wouldn't come out here alive, or at all. I looked around the room, only to find everything that wasn't the thing I searched for.
I even rummaged through the wardrobe in hope to find a pair of spare ones but Schrödinger had already cleaned through every square centimeter in the furniture. I couldn't make handcuffs out of cliffhangers so I had to look after other solutions. My last and only option was a drawer attached to the bedside table. When I opened it, I was both afraid and excited to see what was in there.
My eyes scanned the content; A razor. A small key, to a padlock or a bike. A wrinkled banknote of German currency. A condom. A ballpoint pencil. I couldn't make a pair of handcuffs out of any of these things, even if I combined them all. But what I saw next was even worse or even better than a pair of wrist chains.
I slowly pushed the drawer back into its place and took one final glance underneath the bed, only finding one slipper, an empty plastic bottle and a piece of condom wrapper and I jumped in bed. I pulled the covers over me once again, shutting my eyes in the weirdest of safeties.
A safety only a handy little silver pistol could bring you.