Through Glass(60)

I pulled it out quickly and traced the tip over the back of my hand until the ink flowed before moving to the skin on my wrist.

I trailed the tip over the faded lines, the image of my face coming into clearer focus with every line I added. The tension in my heart left as the ink dried. Cohen’s mark back in place.

I stared at it for a moment as my nerves calmed the frayed edges of my anxiety, lying down gently. There was no way to calm completely while locked in a prison, yet somehow, at least the pen gave me one less thing to worry about. I looked at the mark once more before replacing the sleeve of the jacket. My eyes moved to drag around the room in expectation of finding something else.

I turned a bit, my eyes widening at a plastic tray set near the wall behind me. The bright plastic covered with food.

It wasn’t the cold food of long forgotten tin cans. It was real food; turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, even a roll. It reminded me of school lunch on “Turkey Dinner Day”. The pungent smell of residual fried food mixed with spices.

My body rocked toward the tray before withdrawing, my back rigid as I glared at the food that taunted me. I wanted to eat it. I could feel my stomach grow with want, saliva filled my mouth with need, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I couldn’t do it.

First, I didn’t know where I was and if that wasn’t reason enough, the person who I am quite sure brought me here had shot me.

Sure, I didn’t show any outward signs of having been shot, but that didn’t change the fact that she had done it. I still felt the pain in my chest so I was sure it had happened.

I eyed the food, trying to ignore the rumble in my stomach and scooted away slightly. I was sure they hadn’t poisoned it. Although, why would they keep me alive only to kill me with food? Even with that knowledge, it didn’t take away my fear of the food. My lack of trust toward the people who had brought me here. The people who had shot me.

I shouldn’t have trusted Bridget. I shouldn’t have followed her. Even with the writing on the wall, follow the blue. Maybe the rules that the madman had written were more insane than I had thought. Warnings? Rules? I didn’t know where they fell anymore. They had kept me alive and now they had imprisoned me.

I sighed heavily, trying to settle my fear and look at things logically, but I already knew my options were limited. There wasn’t anything I could do now except find a way out and, judging by the empty state of the room, that wasn’t going to happen.

I moved away from the tray until my back hit the cement wall, my knees pulling up against my chest. I felt so naked and exposed in this room. Even though I didn’t see any cameras I was sure they were watching me. Combine that with the fact that they had taken my backpack and the rail and I felt even more violated.

I wasn’t even that worried about the rail, I needed my pictures, I needed my pens.

“We didn’t poison it, Lex.” I jumped at her voice, plastering myself against the wall as I frantically scanned the empty space. It was the same grey walls and swinging light bulb. Even so, I knew I had heard her voice, which only meant one thing; I was being watched. I sunk back against the cement wall, trying not to grumble.

“I’m sure,” I mumbled under my breath, making my voice loud enough that I was certain she had heard me.

“I gave you a pen for the mark on your wrist. Doesn’t that count as a show of good faith?” her voice came again. My shoulders tensed a bit at the fact she put it there to make sure that I could redraw the lines.

“You don’t eat a pen,” I spat a little angrily, her admittance of her control over me making my stomach turn.

“True, but the ink didn’t seep into your skin and kill you, either.” Her voice sounded casual enough, however the implication of what she had said was absolutely terrifying.

I froze at her voice, willing myself not to look at my wrist and make sure I hadn’t broken out into boils or anything. I could feel my hands shake at the thought and I let my breath out. My chest shook a bit at the exhale in my attempt to ignore her.

“I wouldn’t clean you to kill you,” her voice came again, making me wonder if she had read my thoughts from before.

It was a stupid thought, reading minds. I shook my head and looked up in the direction the voice had come from, assuming the camera to be somewhere near the top of the room. It is where they always were in crazy spy movies.

“You shot me, though,” I countered, smirking dangerously toward the ceiling.

“I didn’t shoot you.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. A good, loud scoff that part of me hoped would irritate her. I let the sound die and closed my eyes, not really wanting to talk to an empty room anymore.

“My chest says otherwise,” I grumbled, keeping my voice low.

“It was an electronic pulse. It’s fatal against the Tar, but only knocks humans unconscious. So, lucky for you, you haven’t begun to turn. Or yes, I would have killed you and then you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

My eyes opened slowly as the crackle of the microphone cut off her voice, the words lingering in the air.

“Turned?” I asked, only slightly regretting asking the question. I was at her mercy anyway. In a lot of ways it didn’t matter what I said anymore. I was in a cement box and they could kill me at any moment with poisonous gas or a collapsing ceiling. Both seemed plausible.

“Hmmm…” her voice came over the speaker again, her curiosity raising her tone an octave. “You eat the food, Lex, and I will tell you all you want to know.”