⊗5⊗
I woke up, curled into a ball in his arms. He was as strong as ever, even in his sleep. My right arm was draped across his muscular chest, and I couldn't feel my left arm. I started to wonder why, then remembered exactly what he had done. I shuddered, and my head started to pound. I guessed that was an after effect of the pills, and I was just glad that he had done something to numb my arm. He was facing me, still wearing his mask, and I wondered whether he was actually asleep or not. I glanced down at his sides and saw that he was breathing deeply. I shifted around, seeing if I could wake him, and pain shot through my thighs. I whimpered, guessing that he hadn't stopped when I blacked out. At least he had untied my wrists and ankles, but there were red burn marks, he had tied them so tightly. Sighing shakily, I wondered how I was going to get out of this situation.
At my sigh, the man shifted slightly, waking up. He was as silent as ever. His thumb brushed against my jaw, comforting but still so alien. It had been dawn when I had arrived at this place, and the light was just starting to fade out of the sky. I stared awkwardly at the man in front of me, and he eventually got up, motioning that I should stay there. I nodded gratefully, not wanted to walk around. He disappeared from sight, and shut the door behind him. I then heard sounds of a chair sliding across the floor, and it was jammed up under the door knob. He didn't trust me, and for good reason. I wanted to get out of here more than anything else at the moment. Even though I knew that the door and the window, which were both inaccessible at the time, were my only way out, I still wanted to take a look around the darkening room. The still-flickering computer screen lit up the room for short intervals, and even though my entire body ached, I pulled myself up with my uninjured arm.
I limped around the room, but soon realized I wouldn't be able to lift anything up in this state, and plopped back down on the bed, bouncing slightly. I started to wonder why only my arm was completely numb, while everything else was aching, when something glimmered on the edge of my sight. It was a needle, completely empty of whatever numbing agent had been in it. I looked down at my arm, and realized that right above my wound was a tightly tied piece of cloth. That would have stopped the bleeding and prevented the agent from spreading anywhere else, but if left on for too long, would surely have some nasty consequences. Just as I started to undo the knot, the masked man shuffled into the room. He saw what I was trying to do, and shooed my hand away, and flipped out a switch blade. Quickly slicing through the material, I could feel a heart beat in my shoulder and arm, and just as quickly, the numb feeling spread. Soon I couldn't feel anything, and it was such a relief, the only bad thing being that the wound had started trickling blood again. How deep had he cut? And what exactly kind of thing had he carved? He grabbed my right arm, careful not to hurt me, and hauled me up to a standing position. Due to the numbness, I wobbled a bit, but he draped my good arm over his shoulder and we made our way over to the door.
We soon reached another door, a bit down the hallway, and he ushered me in. It was a small bathroom, with a sink, a toilet, a mirror, and a fairly large bathtub considering the size of the room. To my surprise, there was still running water, although, the lights didn't work. I wondered how the computer could be on, and I came to the conclusion that it was somehow battery powered. Or even, it was only his room that got electricity. He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a large, high powered flashlight. Setting it on the toilet lid, he ran water until it was warm, then pushed the plug into the drain. When it had filled up, he stepped over to me and started pulling off my shirt. I protested a bit, pushing his hand away, but he just got more insistent and I finally just let him. He took everything off slowly, and even though I couldn't exactly feel things that well, it still got me fired up. I protested more when he got to my bra and finally my underwear, but he wanted them off, and nothing was going to stop him.
I stood there with my head down, while he stripped, excluding his mask, and hopped in. He offered me his hand, and I shook my head, standing there, cold and naked. I thought I heard him utter the smallest of sighs, and he leaned over and took ahold of my hand, pulling me into the bath anyways. The warm water felt good, and nearly forgetting where I was, I leaned into him. I shut my eyes and I heard him slip the mask up a little ways, and I felt him nibble on my neck, making my eyes widen and I let a moan slip out. He leaned back against the wall again, slipping his mask back on to his face. Soon after that, he peeled the seeping bandages off of my arm, and splashed it lightly with water. He grabbed a bar of soap and began lathering it against his own hand before gently massaging it into the still bleeding slashes. I shivered at the odd feeling, still numb, but a great enough pain to feel the slightest of tingles. The man splashed water again to rinse out the soap, and then urged me to stand up with him. Blood had made the bath water a light red, and he drained the water out as he started up the actual shower head, closing the white, plastic curtain. It was a bit cold at first, but changed quickly in a perfect temperature. He then left me in there, pointing to the soap, shampoo, and conditioner I could use to wash up.
I stepped out of the shower, flushed and dripping wet, and he wrapped a somewhat shabby towel around me. He picked up my clothes, and set me back in the bedroom. Through the walls, I could hear him step back into the shower, and I guessed that he didn't want me to see him without his mask. I sat on the mattress, drying my short, brown hair. I got back into my pajamas, and started to wander around the room, looking to see if there was some kind of blanket. The masked man had kept me warm as I slept through the afternoon, but now that it was night, the room was as cold as outside. I finally found a fairly large blanket and lay down just as he took the chair down from outside the door and stepped in. He instantly got in the bed with me, not even bothering to cloth himself. I turned away from him, embarrassed and as modest as always. He jumped at the chance, and pulled me closer to him. As he wrapped his arm around my waist, spooning me, he seemed to remember the wound and jumped up again to grab fresh bandaging. I hadn't noticed before, but he had brought up actual doctoral bandages from the store. I smiled a bit the for the first time that I was trapped in this place, and he put cotton gauze in between the cut and the wrappings. He tied it in place, leaning over me, and he placed the lips of the mask on my forehead, almost like a good night kiss. I was shocked by the sudden act of kindness, and let myself fall asleep with him hugging my backside.
When I awoke he was gone, and I almost missed the feelings of his arms... Wait... What did I just say? Do I really think that? I don't understand myself sometimes. I sighed and glanced out the bright window, noticing that it must have been about ten in the morning. I wondered where he had gone, when he suddenly appeared again, holding an apple and some bread. My stomach growled, and I remembered just how hungry I was. He urged me to take it, and he gingerly place the food in my outstretched hand. I murmured a shy 'Thank you...' At that, he patted my head, seeming glad for the small, but sweet, response. I took, small, polite bites at first, but in the end, my hunger took over. I devoured the apple and bread both in no time. I then noticed him staring at me again, almost obsessively. I felt unnerved again, and I didn't want to meet the emotionless gaze. It was silent in the room, and even the computer had stopped making angry, fizzing notes. The only thing that could be heard was my own breathing, the man making no noise as usual.
It was then that I realized he had left the room, and when he came back, he was holding a small mirror, not unlike the one in the bathroom. He slowly and carefully peeled off my bandages, noting with some satisfaction, that it had stopped bleeding so much sometime in the middle of the night. Now, a bubbly, brown scab covered most of the cuts. He put the mirror up to my arm so I could see what he had done: a circle with an oversized 'X' in the middle, all four ends of the 'X' sticking out of the circle. With no warning, though, he started picking at the scabs, tearing every lose bit of dried blood off as he could, until the whole thing started bleed again. I winced every time he tore at the healing skin, making uncomfortable hissing sounds, tears rolling down my cheeks. When he was done destroying what healing progress the wound had, he gently replaced the gauze and bandages, tying the ends tight again. Scaring was what he intended.
Noticing the moisture on my face, he quickly grabbed a bit of cloth laying on the floor and gently mopped up the tears. I was still shaking from the pain, and he hugged me apologetically, rubbing his hand up and down my back. As soon as I had calmed down, he put his mask back on, and tapped my shoulder, trying to get me to look at what he was pointing at. I glanced up and followed his gaze to the ceiling and the higher walls. I gasped then, seeing for the first time the hand drawn pictures covering the entire top of the room. Most of them had been drawn with charcoal pencils, giant circled 'X's, crude depictions of the Operator, and even the occasion 'he sees me' phrase. It scared me a bit, the sharp black and white angles of the sketches, but my eye couldn't help but be drawn to them. I touched my injured arm unconsciously, making the connection. "But... why?" I manged to say in almost a strangled voice, as I haven't spoken in awhile. I cleared my throat, looking to see if I would get any sort of response. All he did was point to a drawing of the Operator. I took that as a good enough answer, and didn't push it further. I began to wonder at this point if he's working with or against the Operator.