I feel myself regaining consciousness. There's a searing pain in my wrist and ankles. Something wrapped around them and a heavy weight on my collar bone. I slowly realize that I had been captured. Locked up. I am in shackles, God knows where. I refused to open my eyes. That would only make matters worse, I would see my reality.
I inhale, but stop halfway through because of the sharp pain in my side. Great, my ribs are broken. From what little air I can get in, I can tell I'm underground. The air is stale and musty. It felt muggy.
I try to push myself to my knees, but the pain in my wrists is too great. I fall backwards and lay against the wall. As I sit there in defeat, I hear breathing. I suddenly stop my own short breaths confirming what I heard.
"Is there someone, or something out there?" I say with a raspy and shaky voice.
"I'd think I am a someone," I hear a husky, and warm voice say somewhere to my right. I turn my head around, to try to locate him. Man, that's hard without sight.
"Can you not open your eyes?" He questions. His voice is warm and inviting.
"I don't want to face reality. However stupid that may sound, I know that if I see how bad things are, I will start losing hope. And I don't want to be hopeless. Hope is what drives people. It encourages them to keep going, and if that's gone..." I trail off at the end, not sure of what to.
"I could always depict this place for you, but leave out some of the bad parts." Could I trust him?
"How can I trust you?" He goes really quiet after that. Did I offend him? Then I hear rustling next to me. I hear the sound of metal dragging across the floor. I hear him breath in with pain. The sounds stop, and I faintly hear him, "Take my hand."
"Where?" "Just move and try to find it." Ignoring the pain in my wrist, I drag my hand across the floor until I find him. He latches onto mine immediately and for a split second I'm scared he's going to do something, but I soon forget my worries as he runs his thumb over my knuckles and fingers. He laces his fingers between mine. I suddenly felt safe.
"This place... Its underground for starters. The people come in and feed once every day. They already came today so you'll have to wait till tomorrow to eat...." He keeps talking, but I don't listen to the words. I find myself focusing on his voice instead. His voice is hoarse, as if he he hasn't talked for a while and cracks every so often. At some parts, his voice wavers and his grip on my hand tightens. That brings my attention to his hands. I feel the grime etched into his palm. He had been here a while. I could also feel faint scars. I knew he'd probably let go soon since our hands were starting to sweat.
He stops talking. We're left in silence and I can hear the faint scurry of feet from somewhere in the room. I go to talk, but he shushes me.
"Here that?" he whispers. I knew he couldn't be talking about the mouse, so I try to focus on something else. I stop breathing for a few seconds. Nothing. Then as I'm about to speak I hear the thud of a pair of boots. Faint, but there.
"Who is that?" I whisper. He shushes me. I feel a cold, numbness wash over me. The sound of my heart thundering in my chest is the only thing I can hear now. I want to open my eyes. I slowly open them. I didn't take in the guy next to me, or the prison I was trapped in. All my attention was on that door. It was on the solid, iron door with vines all around it and light peeking out from around the edges.
I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. The footsteps get louder until they stop. I see the shadow of feet from underneath the door. I hear the click of him unlocking the door, and the handle move ever so slowly down. The door clicks again as it opens. It squeaks as the guy pushes it open. The light illuminates the room. I bring my arm above my eyes as it blinds me.
"I see you're already getting cozy with your new roommate," the guy says. I bring my arm down and see his silhouette. I feel my friend tense up beside me and squeeze my hand.
"Shut up," my friend growls. The man steps forward until he is right in front of us. I look up and see him. He is massive, completely ripped. Tattoos are up and down his arms and some peek out of this tee shirt. His blonde hair buzzed, that goes with his icy blue eyes. He rears back his hand, and even before I realize what is going on, I hear that smacking sound of a hand on flesh. I look over and see a massive red mark on my friend's face.
"Hey? What was that for!?" I blurt out. The man turns his attention to me.
"I wouldn't talk to me like that, Sweetheart. I have the ability to make you wish you were dead in a heartbeat." He sounds dead serious, but I still don't believe it.
"One, my name isn't 'Sweetheart.' And two, really? I'm not scared by your empty threats."
"They, they can-" My friend says
"Shut up!" The man yells. He proceeds to bend down in front of me and grab my wrists. It burns where his hands touch the place that was raw from the shackle. I feel blood start running down my arms. I feel tears trying to come, but I don't let them.
"Does this look like an empty threat to you? Does it? Answer me damnit!?" I shake my head.
"No," I whisper, knowing any louder would make tears fall.
"Say it like you mean it!" He squeezes harder.
"No," I say, the tears already falling. He releases the pressure on my wrists. He stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. He looks straight into my eyes. His ice blue eyes piercing.
"You may have hope now, but I will strip you of that. You will look swallowed eyed. You'll want to die, but I'll keep you here. I will make you scream until your lungs give out," He turns around and leaves the room. I look down to my wrists. My arms to my hands were soaked in blood.
"You're such an idiot you know that?" My friend says. I don't answer him. I look down at the ground. I hear his scoot away to the corner, then come back.
"Turn and face me please," he says. I don't look up but still turn around to face him. He take my arm and I yelp out in pain.
"I don't get how they can be so bad when I've only been here a few hours," I say
"You haven't. You've been passed out for a few days." WHAT!?
"What?"
"Yeah..." He takes a bottle of water from behind his back and opens it. He keeps a firm grip on my arm as he pours the water on it. It doesn't hurt until the water reaches the fresh wound. I try to jerk away, but my just tightens his grip. He cleans off all the blood, then does the same for the other hand.
"You know what I realized, I don't even know your name," I say. He releases my arms.
"I don't know my name either..." I see the sadness in his eyes.
"Well.... What if we pick our names?" I study him. His hair is a dark brown, but it's caked with dirt. His eyes are a bluish-green, but contain some kind of sadness. His face is shallow as if he hasn't eaten well in a while, and I guess he hasn't.
"Maybe..."
"Ok, you first. What do you want your name to be?"
"But, I don't even know what I look like."
"I doesn't matter what you look like, your name doesn't have to suit your looks." He thinks for a few minutes.
"What about Grant? I kinda like that name." A big smile spreads across my face.
"Oh I like it! Now my turn." I think. I want something unique but cool. Loads of names cross my mind, but one sticks with me.
"Ralyn. R-A-L-Y-N*."
"Its beautiful" I guess so.
"What do they do to us here?" I ask. He takes a deep breath.
"Terrible things... I'm sorry." The thing was he sounded genuinely sorry.
"Why are you sorry?"
"Its... just forget it."
I didn't speak for the rest of the night or day, or whatever time it is. Grant eventually fell asleep, his slow breaths lulling me to sleep.
~[Pronounced Rah-lyn]~