Tag, You're It

seven

Bagwell dragged me by the wrist up these stone stairs. He was walking too fast and I kept tripping, which seemed to anger him. All the way I was pleading, begging, that he just let me go, but not once did he even acknowledge me. Bagwell just kept walking, grip tight around my wrist, until we reached a short, white hallway with many doors branching off from it.

It was cleaner than the rest of the prison I had seen, but still filthy. The bars that lined each of the windows were rusted and the ceiling had black patches of damp. We stopped outside a white door that had the legend 'INFIRMARY' on it in black letters; T-Bag turned the knob and threw me inside. I went tumbling to the floor, knocking over a metal table of surgical equipment as I did. The sound of scalpels and scissors falling to the tile floor echoed deafeningly. T-Bag was infuriated. Still without speaking a word, only grunting in anger, he grabbed me by my collar, pulled me up and threw me backwards. I fell into a bigger table this time, but it did not fall. My vision was blurry from my watering eyes, but I could vaguely make out the room. It had high ceilings and tall, barred windows, which were streaky from the years of decay. The floor looked like a big chess board, with the alternating black and white tiles, which made me feel uneasy. I steadied myself on my feet and lightly tapped the wound on my head. I was bleeding again.
T-Bag swaggered towards me with empty eyes - the eyes of a snake - and pulled me up onto this table by my hair. It was metal and cold against my skin. It was only as I laid there that I realised I was in fact laid on a surgeon's table. I lurched and thrashed in an attempt to get up and out of there, but T-Bag held me down. I struggled my hardest against his grip and he began to restrain my limbs: wrists first, then ankles. He was too strong. 

All I could do was watch as, with his back turned to me, he stood up the table I had knocked over, and began lining up the surgical instruments as they had been before, muttering to himself as he did so. Past him, I could see that the door to the infirmary was still open. He hadn't even been bothered to shut it. He was trying to taunt me in anyway he could. He was going to let me see the freedom he was keeping from me. He loved to feel powerful.

"Are you ready to be mine yet, cherry?" That Southern drawl of his made everything he said sound that much filthier. "Are you ready to give your heart to your ol' Teddy?"
"You can't force love, Theodore," he turned to face me as I said this, "I will never love you."
"Oh?" He ran his tongue over his top lip. His tone made me regret speaking. "Well, let's see if we can fix that," T-Bag picked up a scalpel, "together."