If You Don't (Fyodor X OC)

Peace

"In the end, they decided to put the gas back on. Only one subject and one officer had remained by the end of it, and the officer was ready to end the subjects life. Before he did, he asked the subject a reasonable question. 'What are you?'"

"The prisoner gave him the courtesy of an answer; 'we are you. We're the madness that lurks within you, begging to be free. We are what you hide from'. And then the officer shot the subject, then himself," just as he had finished his story, he managed to finish the puzzle as well. He turned in his chair, facing me with his hands woven together as they rested in his lap.

"Do tell me, Anastasia, what you make of this," he demanded.

Being that I was stuck here without a way to avoid him or his antics, I decided to indulge him. "It's merely a work of fiction," I shrugged.

He seemed taken back by my honest thoughts, sitting upright in his chair. His eyes seemed to scan me, as if searching for a lie that may have been hiding underneath my skin. "And why is that?"

"Surely one would bleed out from such volatile injuries, but for arguments sake, let's say they don't. The story implies that sleep is what keeps some sort of mindset hidden underneath - an implication that is flawed at best," I shrugged. I leaned back against the cement wall behind me, arms crossed behind my head.

"You do not believe such evil lies within us?" He raised a brow. He leaned all the way back in his chair, his one arm resting on the small table that held his puzzle.

"On the contrary, I believe we are all evil. I simply mean that sleep is not what keeps us under restraint"

"Then what does restrain us?"

I stared at the man behind the glass. His black hair was tucked underneath his hat, and his long legs were crossed over each other in a display of comfort. One could only assume that he was, for once, very interested in conversing with me.

"Morality - a bar set by preservation," I finally answered.

"Oh?" He leaned forward. "Then you believe the fact that they were prisoners was not significant," he stated, asking for confirmation with his tone.

I shook my head. "I wouldn't say that either"

"Do enlighten me," he held his hands out in a gesture that told me to continue.

"When trapped in a cage, you lose any sense of preservation. You have no need to maintain yourself or your race. After all, what can you really do when you're so limited? When that happens, you only have your mind. The mind is more susceptible to corruption when it's forced to face itself endlessly," I closed my eyes. I was satisfied with my answer, and I believed he would be too.

I heard Fyodor shuffle from the other side. His feet drug slightly against the concrete, and his chair scraped against the floor as it shifted. "How long until your mind falls to corruption, then?"

I smiled. "The one variable nobody accounted for in this experiment of yours, is the notion that one has already succumbed to the corruption. Now it's your turn. Can you guess what the result of that would be?"

Fyodor fell silent. I got him. The all-knowing, arrogant 'demon' had finally met his maker. He had been beaten at his own game, and his opponent was me.

"Peace," I answered for him.

His lips curled up. He didnt say another word, which led me to believe he was elated by the useless banter. It was quite peculiar, honestly. The Russian had certainly lived up to his reputation of deception and manipulation, but he possessed another quality nobody ever talked about; he was genuine and authentic. He seemed to favor the real, true, dark nature of people rather than feigned politeness and respective authority.