Scattered Sanity (Sanvers)

Day Two Hundred Sixty-Seven.

Everything was beginning to dull, the world losing the vibrancy it used to have. The visits from Rick were all blurring together in a horrifying mess that would plague Alex's dreams during the few hours that she slept. Even worse than that, her subconscious was blending with reality, bringing her nightmares and gut-wrenching memories into her waking moments and taunting her. Her own mind was working against her, further solidifying her mindset that the entire world wanted the worst for her, desperate and using every resource it had to bring her the most emotionally and physically scarring pain possible. With her mind slowly going rogue, Alex was finding it hard to concentrate on remembering her past. As the present was losing its color, so were her memories, gradually fading away, piece by piece. She would screw up her face and try to focus on recalling the good times she had experienced, but they were losing their clarity, growing fuzzier with each blow that was dealt upon her.

She was nearly unrecognizable compared to how she had looked before her abduction. Alex's cheeks were sallow, her ribs prominent through the skin of her torso. She was losing her hard-earned muscle more than ever, becoming skinnier as time passed. Blood still stained her body, as if she was a canvas, and somebody had carelessly swiped a paintbrush dipped in crimson over her form in various patches, now crusted over the countless bruises and other beating wounds. Her lips were chapped, the delicate skin split in jagged lines, and her throat was always sore from shrieking. Her left eye was swollen shut, throbbing painfully, and she could envision the welt turning black and blue. And her wrists, of course her wrists, they were covered in torn and peeled-away scabs, perpetually colored red, hot and inflamed. The burns from the candle wax were still gruesomely etched into her arms, brandings that continued to mark her as a victim at Rick's mercy. Alex felt frail, and she hated it with every fiber of her being.

Every day, Alex would struggle her way through the hours when Rick was present. Some days, she would be battered unconscious, whether it be with fists, a steel rod, even sticks of bark, which bit into her, their rough surfaces scratching, leaving angry red abrasions in their wake. Thankfully, the candle and blowtorch had not made their return yet, but Alex knew that Rick could snap at any moment, deciding to pulverize her whenever he felt like it. He hadn't played any new voicemails for her, only occasionally replaying some of the older ones that she had already heard. Each broken up word that was uttered by someone she cared about drove clear through her heart, almost as painful as the physical damage she experienced.

Rick made his appearance of the day, scuffing the soles of his shoes along the floor beneath him as he ambled into the warehouse. He didn't say a word to Alex, instead merely sighing. He had been awfully quiet lately, and this was troubling to Alex. Usually Rick was beaming malevolently, silently praising himself for the ingenious plan he had concocted, another attempt at shattering Alex's seemingly titanium sanity. His generally consistent taunts had been absent for about a week, which was very unlike him. A part of Alex illogically hoped that perhaps he was becoming worn down himself, and that his stamina was out in terms of his persistence towards cracking her.

The brunet shuffled towards Alex, sitting cross-legged at her side. He interlocked his fingers, then placed his hands in his lap, wetting his lips quickly and then simply staring at Alex, his blue eyes unspeaking.

"Hello?" Alex asked, confused and creeped out. Her words sounded gravelly, as her throat was still tender.

Rick blinked. "Hello." His voice was bland, emotionless.

The two sat in a strange quiet for a period of time, the only sounds being Rick clearing his throat and Alex shifting her position to one that was more comfortable.

Rick combed his fingers through his stringy hair, again puffing out a labored breath. He casually reached behind him, leaning gently to the side to allow himself to take something out of his back pocket. When he settled into his prior position, he brought the retrieved item forth, displaying a familiar knife.

Alex seized up, her breath cutting out momentarily. The weapon in Rick's hand was something she hadn't seen in a long time. In the entire time that she had been held against her will, Rick had rarely used a blade to cut her skin, and when he did, it was with a small razor blade. This particular knife was the one that had slashed through her black t-shirt so very long ago, discarding her modesty to the side, where it still sat, dusty and faded. The memories came flooding back, the pain, the cruelty of it all.

Rick twirled the switchblade's hilt around his fingers a single time before flicking up the scarily polished blade that looked sharper than ever, his expression still completely blank.

Alex forced down the bile that was crawling up her throat. She didn't want to find out what Rick's idea was this time. He could cut her clothing, her flesh, anything that he desired. Once more, Alex was reminded of how much power Rick held over her. She had to be ready to keep her cool, no matter what happened. She had to stay strong-

Without so much as a twitch of the head, Rick stabbed the knife into Alex's abdomen, inserting half of the blade through her skin.

The redhead let out an involuntary shout, feeling the recovering flesh on the inside of her vocal chords tearing away. Blood spilled from the wound, trailing in red rivers down to her pants, where it disappeared into the waistline.

Rick twisted the knife ninety degrees, simultaneously burying it further into Alex.

Alex managed to contain her scream, this time only gasping, though the sudden action still bothered her throat.

Rick shook his head, though his visage remained unreadable. Suddenly, he removed the knife and jabbed it into the upper portion of Alex's thigh while also punching the gash he had just created.

That made Alex yell out, her throat ripping in response, and when Rick dug his knuckles into the new laceration, she screamed, a pronounced plead for mercy. With that final screech, the last of her vocal chords burnt out, leaving her voiceless.

Her captor appeared to be more engaged once he realized that Alex could no longer produce any noise, extracting his blade. As a precautionary check, he thrusted his elbow into a bruise on the inside of the redhead's elbow, and when her mouth opened and no sound emerged, his composure splintered. Rick grinned, the same insane smirk that Alex had grown used to seeing.

"There's someone who would like to talk to you." He told Alex, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and taking out her phone, shaking it for emphasis. Rick pressed on the screen several times, then held the device lazily. The sound of a phone ringing reverberated in the empty air, grasping Alex's attention.

"Alex? Alex, are you there?"

It was a voice Alex knew well, one that she had heard so often when she was living back at home. It was comfort, it was safety, it was warmth, kindness, gentleness, grace, hope, wonder, it was love.

"Alex? Baby, Alex, if you can hear me, just say something. Please. Is this you?"

The name was on the tip of her tongue, someone she had cherished and held so close, so dear to her heart. The one person who was able to break down her walls and finally let her fly free, unchained from the world's constricting perspectives.

"Alex?"

Her name. Alex racked her brain for the answer, but nothing was coming up. Mary? Maisie? Maddie?

"I love you, Alex Danvers."

Maggie. That was her name. The name of the girl that she loved. Maggie Sawyer, the woman who was remarkable in every way possible, the person near perfect. The tough police officer with a fire in her eyes, who would shoot anyone that threatened her or the people she cared about, yet who could wait for hours, patiently rationalizing with a criminal on the other end of a phone line, coaxing them with words of reason to stop their wrongdoing.

Alex's lips formed her name, though nothing sprung from her mouth. Maggie. She repeated it endlessly, doing her best to implant it into her brain. The lapse in memory worried her. She couldn't be forgetting about Maggie. There was no way that could happen.

There was a small sob that crackled through the speakers, and the line went dead.