The Anthem of the Castaway

It Was a Trap

I awake in a cell. Not on the cold floor, but instead on a blanket with a second over the top of me. My vision is foggy, so when I gaze around I can't see much. When I look at my chest I still see the spear protruding, but this time I don't have the drowning sensation.

This time the drugs have worn off and I can feel the spear inside of my chest. I lay on my side and feel blood trickling from my nose.

"Steph!" I hear quietly. I scan around, trying to find where the voice is coming from, but I can't focus on anything around me.

"Steph!" I hear again. I ignore it this time, since it's probably my withdrawal induced hallucinations.

'Steph! I'm across from you.' I hear in my head. The voice belongs to Father himself. I gaze around again, but my vision fails me.

A soft lady comes into the cell and locks the door behind her. She approaches me, coming close enough that I can see her features. Her black hair is tied back and her brown skin contrasts with her light blue clothing. "You're nice to me and I'm nice to you. Got it?" She threatens. I nod slightly to her, knowing that she has more in store than it looks.

She reaches down and yanks my arm away from me and locks it between her thighs with her back facing me. I feel a needle stab into my flesh, but there is no give when I pull away. Finally she lets my arm go, so I pull it up to my body to keep her from grabbing it again. I look at her in anger, angry that she would inject anything into me after her agreement.

"It's good. You'll like it." She tells me, smiling. "Just stay calm and go to sleep."

I continue glaring at her, but then my vision changes, where each heartbeat sends what looks like a shock wave through the air. I feel dizzy, so I lay on my back.

Everything moves faster now. Her movements seem jerky and sudden. I close my eyes and remain in a drunken stupor for hours to come.

At some point I feel her turn me over and stick some tools in my chest. I feel my skin and ribs being stretched apart, then the spear being removed. It hurts a lot, but the drugs she gave me don't allow me to want to respond.

I can't tell if its hours, days, or weeks later, but I finally come around to soberness. I remember the woman sticking my arm with the needle more than a dozen times, so maybe I've been out for a while.

She walks in, eyeing me warily this time. She sets a tray of food beside me. "Eat." She says simply.

I sit up, then with shaky hands, I pick up a piece of dried meat and start chewing on it.

"Can you talk? I haven't heard a peep from you." She asks. I shake my head no, focusing more on the meat in my hands.

"Then talk to me through the mind link.'

'I can't say much. It gives a headache.' I tell her, immediately wincing from a headache.

'Ok. Don't forget the deal we made, alright?'

'Why are you being so nice?' I ask silently.

'I believe that if we treat our prisoners with respect they won't want to leave.'

'It's easier to break our spirit and leave us to rot.' I tell her, ignoring the pounding in my head.

'But then you will die and you'll be a problem again.'

'But I can easily kill myself in here anyways with the things you give me.'

'Do you really want to die? Do you want to feel the pain and go through the torture again? Or would you rather be here, where you can have all the drugs you want.'

I look at her in surprise, wondering where she really found my fatal flaw. I try not to make that known, since that is Father's most hated flaw.

'I'm the one that told that guy in the alley to share with you if I gave him drugs. I know your vice and I know your favorite way to spend time.' She tells me. Her silent words send shivers down my spine. How does she know so much about me?

Instead of responding, I lay back down in defeat. The truth is, I'd rather go out and kick some ass. I want things to return to normal. But I am afraid of dying. I'm afraid of coming back with an extra set of wings. Sure, I can heal now. But it's dangerous to take bets on a 50/50 scenario.

"No, you need to eat more." She tells me out loud. I look down at my arms and notice my normal muscle tone isn't there. I pick up a bread stick and eat that slowly, all while she stares at me.

'I didn't really like the drugs you gave me.' I tell her. I'm not really sure why I started this conversation with her, but here we go.

'Why?'

'I was too out of it. It wasn't enjoyable.' I tell her. 'What that supposed to be the same stuff as that man gave me?'

'It's the same. 2 milliliters.' She tells me, watching as I pick up another piece of meat.

'I only had one on the street and that was rather enjoyable.' I tell her. Since when do I really want to have a lighter dose? Maybe it's because I'm in the presence of Father and want to do good.

As I pick up the last piece of meat, she takes the tray and sets it on the ledge by the door. She returns and produces a syringe from her pocket. With my vision cleared, I now realize that this is the woman who gave me the recommendation for that alley-way with the man who had the drugs. I easily fell into a trap.

She grasps my arm and pierces the needle into my flesh and empties half of the syringe into a vein. She caps the needle and sets the syringe on the floor next to me. "If you want more you can have it." She says. By the time she leaves the cell the drugs hit, and I'm left wondering again what is tomorrow and where is today.