Rats in a Maze || Sawyer & Sparks
There was no way to tell how many days had passed since the cell door last opened. With no windows and certainly no clock, it could have been anywhere between three days or six. Maybe more.
Screaming through the narrow slot near the foot of the door yielded no reply, not even a harsh reprimand. Only silence. His questions and demands may as well have been directed at a brick wall. All he knew was that he had come across a cache of canned food in the back of some abandoned truck when he felt it — a sharp punch in the side of his neck. He recalled wrenching out a small metallic needle, tipped red with his blood, and knowing nothing more.
A tranquilizer. Strong one, too. Sawyer couldn’t say how long he’d been out, but by the time he came to — locked in this dingy padded cell, bereft of all his supplies but otherwise unharmed — it felt like coming out of a coma.
Nothing further happened for a good long while. Long enough for hunger pains to grow dull in his gut, and for thirst to parch his throat. Long enough for panic to hover at the edge of every fleeting thought, for theories and speculations to turn wilder and wilder with each passing hour.
And then, one day — or God knows when, exactly — the locks clicked free, and the door swung open on squealing hinges. Sawyer raised a hand to shield his eyes, blinking at the stinging light pouring in.
He barely had time to register anything more before he heard a female voice grunting with exertion, followed by the sound of a body being shoved hard into his cell. A woman — young, blonde, impossible to determine anything else just yet — fell onto the cushioned floor next to him, her wrists bound together behind her back.
Sawyer gaped down at her with mindless incomprehension, remembering too late to look back to the door. He caught the barest hint of the barrel of a revolver before it slammed shut again, having only just told his legs to move, run.
The locks slid back into place with crushing finality. There was a split second of pregnant silence before the slot in the door opened, admitting a tray of cafeteria food and a couple shallow bowls of water.
“If you need to urinate,” a chillingly flat, civil voice intoned from the other side, “use the bowls and then leave them by the door. Use the tray if you need to defecate. I will come back in a few hours to collect any leavings."
"Wait, wait,” Sawyer called hoarsely, rushing to kneel by the slot. Cataloging what few details he could process. Male, possibly middle aged, possibly Caucasian. Nothing else. ”Please. Just tell me — tell us what’s going on here. Who are you? What the hell is this place, why did you bring me here?”
Silence. Hesitation, perhaps, or maybe the man had already left.
"My name is Dr. Steven Miles,” he finally replied, still with hardly any inflection. “This is the men’s ward of the Kent County Psychiatric Hospital. I apologize for keeping you waiting, and in such conditions, but I’m afraid my resources are limited. And the tests I’ve been running can take a while. If either of you are experiencing any minor aches or pains, you needn’t worry. I took some blood and tissue samples off you while you were unconscious. The results only became conclusive this morning.”
Sawyer stared blankly at the door, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. “What tests? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I have other candidates to check on, but as I said, I’ll be back in a few hours. Now, the two of you are young, attractive, healthy individuals, as well suited for each other as one can hope for these days.” The doctor paused, as if unsure how to word himself. "I’m…trying to go about this as delicately as I can, but come on. She’s lovely, isn’t she? I was very selective in that regard, I promise you that. Took me ages to find someone even remotely compatible with you. And since there isn’t much else for either of you can do to pass the time, I suggest you do what…erm, comes naturally, I suppose you could say.”
A spike of rage drove Sawyer’s fist blindly into the padded door. “Open the goddamn door and let us out, you fucking psychopath!”
Miles’ voice didn’t acknowledge any interruption. “I suggest leaving her wrist bindings on, when you get to it. She’s…a bit ill-tempered.”
Sawyer roared and attacked the door with all the strength he had been saving these last few torturous days, or hours, whatever the hell it had been. “You can’t. Fucking. DO THIS,“ he bellowed, throat raw with the strain.
He punched, clawed, kicked, and otherwise threw himself at the door for untold minutes before collapsing in a heap to the floor, breathless and dizzy. The dread coursing through him was almost primal, reminding him all too jarringly of an animal trapped in a cage or snare. The fear, the helplessness, the unknowing…people aren’t meant to be treated this way, kidnapped and drugged and tested on and who knows what else. He was free. If nothing else at the end of the world, people were that at least. There were no more borders, no boundaries, nothing to keep anyone tied down. You can’t adapt for over four years to such a world and then throw a man inside a padded box. You just can’t.
It wasn’t until he heard a faint buzzing overhead, followed by the sudden awakening of the fluorescent light bars overhead flickering on, that he even remembered he wasn’t alone in the room.
Squinting painfully in the harsh light (electricity? A generator?), he regarded the woman trapped inside with him for a few dumbfounding seconds. She was indeed pretty, as that lunatic outside said, but all Sawyer really saw was a trapped, frightened animal like himself.
When nothing else came to him, he awkwardly rasped, “You okay? He say anything to you?”
It’d been two days or maybe more. Two days she’d been awake at least. It was impossible to count with not window to the outside world. No idea whether it was day or night. No clock to base how long she’d been in hell.
One minute she’d been looting a convenience store, and the next she was here.
She should have known by how fully stocked it was. It was odd, and it was clean. She wanted to curse herself for not realizing it sooner, and it wasn’t until a wet cloth had been placed over her mouth that she realized it. After she’d squirmed her way out of that hold. After she’d ruined a couple shelves of his merchandise. After he pinned her down, slamming her onto the ground, and put the smelly cloth back under her nose she knew.
Immediately when she woke up, she tried to reach for her pants, to see if anything had happened. She couldn’t feel anything different, but panic surged through her. That’s when she realized where her hands were. Tied behind her, in a comfortable way. It took her a few tries, but she soon moved her arms forward, and she broke out of the ropes. She examined herself, and realized part of her worst nightmare had not come true. Despite that, she was still here. Who knows what could happen. Maybe the sicko wanted her awake for the act.
After a few hours, the door was opened, and both parties were equally surprised. Considering she no longer had bondage. Sparks put up a fight with the silent man leaving a black eye before being injected with something.
The second time she woke, this time around her arms were not comfortable. The man had learned not to give her any space, as they were tight behind her back. The thick rope was chaffing her wrists, with only enough room for circulation. This was her punishment for trying to escape. It was hard to move around after that, but it wasn’t long before the man returned.
Without a word he grabbed her and began dragging her somewhere else. His grip was tight, but she still struggled.
"Let me go! Why are you doing this? Don’t touch me!!”
Sparks was dragged around for a while. With no words, she was shoved into a room. Falling backwards, she fell onto the floor. What should have been hard, was a soft ground. Immediately looking at her surroundings she realized where she was, an asylum.
As the door shut behind her, her head cracked back up to attention. Finally noticing the tall male who stood away from her. The only other person she’d seen so far.
The man began speaking, which was the first time for her hearing him speak normally instead of grunts and curses. The calm in his voice was uneasing. Knots formed in her throat when she realized that she wasn’t the only one here. Nor were they together the only two. He had more groups here..
Sparks had though this world couldn’t possibly get any worse. She was wrong. The more he spoke, the farther she pushed herself away from the door and from the stranger. Until her hands grazed the back wall.
Lovely? The world made her retch. Naturally? Her stomach flipped, and she wished she could hide herself in her arms. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sparks had been personally selected for this man- to-
She couldn’t even say it. She couldn’t even think it. The new man in front of her was seemingly becoming undone, and she could only close her eyes and try to drown him out. He was enraged, and maybe he would take advantage of this. He was built and she knew a fight with him would be futile. Though it did make her wonder, how he was brought in here.
Her head fit between her knees, and tried to make herself as small as possible. Hoping that if he pressed tightly enough she’d disappear forever.
Sounds above her were heard, and she became alert again. Electricity had been given to this room, which was peculiar. Sparks hadn’t seen electricity since this whole thing started. After a month
At this point she finally locked eyes with the man. Attractive, and maybe older? She couldn’t really tell. He looked hungry and tired. Maybe this room had aged him, maybe it had aged her. She didn’t know what to say. How to string a sentence to ask him not to deflower her, it’d never been a conversation she’d practiced for.
It wasn’t until he began directing words at her that she realized she hadn’t said a word this entire time. Her silence continued for a few more minutes before she responded.
“No. He hasn’t said a word to me.”
The blonde girl was looking up at him, if she wanted to stand she’d have to push herself upwards with her legs. She’d rather not waste the energy. Her legs would need the energy to kick if he tried anything.
It wasn’t fair that she didn’t immediately trust this man, he was also here locked up in a cell. Except she was the only one with her hands bonded.
Her eyes didn’t leave his sight, and usually she was more intimidated by attractive men. Right now, she just wanted to know if she could ever sleep here.
“Are you-” going to ruin me?
Sparks only thought this, and changed her sentence.
“Did you know- about this?”
In the back of her mind, she wanted to scream she was virgin. Something inside her hoped he was just a decent human, and something told her he just might be.
“Are you going to keep me tied up?”
Sparks hated feeling this defenseless.
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Hints of nausea filled her stomach, as if her body told her to heed her warnings. If anyone should take this plunge it...