Conundrum

Chapter 10: Panic Room

TW: Torture just skip to the line break if you don't want to read. Stay safe.

It was cold.

So very cold.

      He couldn't feel his fingers, nor could he wriggle his toes without pain shooting up his legs, and with every breath he took, his throat burned. He'd hadn't had anything to drink in so long, his tongue felt like a brick. The cloth around his eyes, soaked with sweat and tears, wouldn't budge. No matter how much he wriggled around, he could never escape the darkness the enveloped him.

      It curled around him, just as it always did and stroke his cheek like a lover, but now it felt like it had a cold knife pressed into the small of his back. Keith was trapped in the constant stream of fear-induced adrenaline; always tense and waiting for another blow to his already abused chest or the feeling of nerves ripped apart by the small blade of an invisible knife.

      He didn't know how long ago his last session was. She said she was creating artwork, but he thought she was going to kill him. He shifted just a fraction and the constant black burned white in a flash. The swirling pattern trailing from his hips to his under arm cried tears of blood.

It hurt to breathe.

      A stray tear escaped his eye and soaked into the fabric as he choked on a sob. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to just be. He wanted to go home, curl up with Ulaz under their blanket and go to sleep.

Another tear.

Was Sarah alright? He hoped she still had his jacket.

Another.

Why did it hurt so much?

      He gasped and shuddered as he tried to catch his breath. Once he started crying, the tears wouldn't stop. He hadn't sleep in ages, his body was beyond exhausted, and he'd been alone in the darkness for an indefinite amount of time, so he lost almost all his masks: There was no face he could wear to cover his terror.

      He couldn't let his guard down, either, no matter how much he just wanted to let the world fade away. Keith didn't know if he would ever wake up. And there was the permanent snake of fear coiled in his stomach that constantly bore its fangs and bit into his flesh. Each time its poison filtered through his veins a boulder settled on his chest and closed his throat until he had to fight for each breath he took.

He wanted to go home.

      His breath caught in his throat and he coughed. Shocks of pain bloomed in his chest like fireworks; There for a moment but engraved into the backs of the eyelids like a tattoo. He let out a low whine.

"Aww, why're you so sad Baby?"

      He screamed. A broken, desperate, and terrified cry for help. The tears came back tenfold. He hadn't heard any indication that she was there. No footsteps, no breathing, and certainly no click of the door that usually indicated that he would spend an undisclosed amount of time in pain.

      He heard her heel clack against the cold and rough cement. He jerked away from the noise; his already agitated cheek rubbing against the rock, flushing it a pale red. More tears soaked into the darkness. Another clack.

      Small noises escaped his lips as she got closer. And closer. And closer. Then he felt her hot breath against his ear, and he flinched away. "I never actually left you know," she whispered, "I wanted to see what you'd do." She placed a slender hand on his chest and dragged it down his torso.

      Keith wailed as the nerves in his skin caught fire, giving way to hot blisters. No, that wasn't possible. He heard her leave the room. He heard her high heels clink out of the room and gradually get softer. He remembered the door clicking shut. His throat felt like sandpaper as he cried.