Chapter 8 – The Eyes

*Disclaimer: Vivian is the only character that I own. (Sometime I make people up and stick them in there, an example is the guard 'Milton' in a previous chapter, and the guard 'Jenkins' in this one, but I don't count those as OC's.)

I actually gave this chapter a name! I am now very proud of my self. This is the second chapter of the new past chapters that I am now creating. Get ready for some. . . PLOT TWISTS!

Alcatraz – 1962

Vivian was quite proud of herself. During her boring time in her cell, which was usually spent trying to coax conversation out of her neighbor, she had discovered yet another talent of hers. She considered herself multitalented, because being skillful with two weapons means that you have two talents in her eyes.

Her new found 'talent' involved her twisting and contorting herself into various positions. She would have called it contortion, but she decided that certain title was reserved when someone would perform it with grace, and fluid motions. Vivian's style however was filled with sickening pops and clicks as she folded her limbs into frightening poses. But she was still proud of herself for discovering that she practically, in a figurative manner, had no bones or limbs to restrict her movements.

They still kept trying to coax words out of her and it had gotten progressively worse. The questioning sessions had been almost daily now, but she had stuck to her plan religiously. She was done speaking, saying "target practice" the other day was the last words she had to say to them. But she would not give them the satisfaction of her voice. Not now. Not ever.

She was currently half on the bed with her rear end resting on her head and her feet on the floor, when the cell door opened. Again. She was getting real sick of the interrogations that went on. She had no idea what they wanted from her, and why it was so necessary for her to speak. She had just unfolded herself from her head-sit with two pops and a crack when she was grabbed roughly and practically thrown from her cell. The guards, one of them Hauser, led her down to the same room she had been more than a dozen times in the past two weeks. The usual suspects occupied the room, and they observed her with the usual expression of disdain. Vivian was planted in front of Doctor Sengupta, like usual, and she expected them to start asking her ridiculous questions.

They didn't.

The six of them, she now counted as the Assistant Warden had made his appearance, just stared at her in silence.

"Miss Blanch, we have all noticed how you fail to answer almost all of our questions. So, I have devised that this will be the last interrogation you will endure during your stay if you answer the question we have set for today." Dr. Sengupta told her.

Vivian was shocked. She had not expected this possible outcome, but her chances were slim if she never wanted to do this again.

"We have been informed that you have planted a box somewhere in the continental United States that hidden inside is several valuables that are crucial to not only you, but your past as well. We believe that not only does it contain items, but massive amounts of the fortune you, Vivian, have attained while performing as a hit woman for high amounts of profit. So, you should now understand why it is so important for us to find it. However, you need to tell us where it is." There was a pause.

"So the question is . . . where have you hidden the box?"

Vivian had seen this coming. She had known that there was no was for the inescapable to become escapable. But indeed this was part of the plan. The majority of it. And she knew exactly how she would answer. She mimed the action of writing with her hands and hoped it would get her somewhere. It did.

Dr. Sengupta pushed a pad of paper in her direction with a pencil resting on top. Vivian took it and pulled it close to her and started scribbling, not letting anyone look at what exactly she was putting onto the paper.

ooOoo

About fifteen minutes later, Vivian was finished. She gently tore off page that contained the information, placed it on the table, and pushed towards the other six.

She had drawn a pair of sad-looking eyes encased in ornate spectacles. The rest of the page was completely blank.

The six of them looked down at her with disapproving expressions. Some of them looked borderline livid. Obviously they had no idea she had just told them the where-about of her precious box.

"I do not think you understood the question."

Vivian was incredulous. How could they be so daft as to not be able to understand what information she had just divulged?

"I'll handle this one." The Assistant Warden said, leading the five others out of the room. He took a couple steps closer to her. Quite frankly she was freaked out. She had heard rumors amongst the other inmates that he was the worst. Worse than the guard Jenkins with the violent tendencies down in B-Block. And most certainly worse than the Warden himself when it came to punishment. She tried to make it look like she wasn't as afraid as she was, but Vivian knew she wasn't the best when it came to playing pretend.

"I want you to listen to me, and listen well 2067," He started. "You have made this entire circumstance more difficult than it needs to be. All you need to do is tell us where the box is." He finally hissed.

She decided to answer in writing. She still had the paper pad in her lap. This way she wouldn't mess up her plan, and avoid severe punishing for not speaking.

I did tell you where the box is. She wrote.

"No you did not. All you did was draw a pretty picture. And call me sir."

I will not call you sir. She wrote.

"And why ever not 2067?" He sneered down at her.

I reserve that title to people I respect. She wrote back.

"That's it." He said. He grabbed her by the collar and practically dragged her out of the interview room and into the main area. She figured it was to publicly humiliate her, but she had been wrong before.

"I will not stand for defiance. I demand respect! While you are here, you have no name. You are just a number." He yelled. "All of you are just numbers!" He yelled again but this time at the other inmate watching the scene from the safety of their cells.

"Take her to solitary." He snapped as her shoved her in the direction of some fast-approaching guards.

She did as she was told and let the guards lock her in a dark cell. This was only her second time, she counted, which was pretty good considering her neighbor ended up there about three times a week for making stupid decisions. She was amazed that the episode that had just occurred even occurred at all. That definitely was not part of the plan.