The Failed Project (Fitz Vacker x Reader)

Chapter 9

     Why? How? What? 

     That was the start of every thought that crossed my mind. 

     Why did the Neverseen do this to me?

     How had I "not passed"?

     What did I " not pass"?

     I clouded myself with anxiety, guilt, and shame; my stomach felt like it had a gaping hole that wouldn't stop growing. 

     I began to hear something, something muffled through the walls. It came from the other corner of the room, and I moved towards it. The shadows seemed to follow me without me even trying. Perfect example of no control, huh?

     I sat down in the corner, pressing my ear as close to the wall as I could. Suddenly, the mumbling stopped. Not that I understood it at all, anyways.

     Then the wall started cracking.

     I quickly jumped back from the wall, moving to the corner opposite the one I was just in. The shadows followed me. 

     Looking at the wall, there was a slight gap. Not big enough to see through, but just enough for me to communicate with the person on the other side. 

~~~Fitz's POV~~~

     There had been voices. Voices in the cell next to mine. Muffled, yes, inelligable, yes, but they were there. Someone had to be in the cell next to me. Someone was there. 

     I assumed night had come when I started to grow tired. Or perhaps that was due to sitting alone, in a cold cell all day for who knows how long. 

     There were times I muttered to myself, reminding myself I was there. The silence of the room felt suffocating, at times, hearing your voice out loud seemed to slice through the silence just the smallest bit. 

     I let my head fall back against the wall, staring up, once again, at the carving of the Neverseen symbol. I hadn't put much thought of how it had ended up there. Perhaps the Neverseen carved it themselves, or perhaps it's from a past prisoner. Maybe they were trying to collect their thoughts. Leave some sort of trace of who took them. But on the ceiling? How had they done that? How had they made the carving in the first place? 

     I stared at the eye, almost as if it was staring back at me. In a way, it felt like it was, but the longer I stared the more I noticed something was off. It felt as though it were staring back at me, yes, but the pupil, the center of the eye, seemed as if it were looking somewhere else. 

     The center of the eye did not stare towards the center of the room, but was rather pointed at a wall. The wall that happened to be the same one the voices came from last night. Someone was on the other side of that wall.  

     I ran my hand over the wall, but nothing about it seemed off. Tapping my fingers against it, nothing changed. Knocking on the wall seemed to do nothing either. 

     I groaned in frustration, thinking I had gotten somewhere. My forehead hit the wall in defeat, and my fists balled at my sides before I brought them up, slamming them into the wall out of anger. 

It cracked.