Spy School: 'The Aftermath'

Confinement

The Box

CIA Academy of Espionage 

Washington, DC

May 23rd

1800 hours

I was about one hour into my second temporary stay in The Box, and I was already bored out of my mind. The entire room hadn't changed at all, with the cheap plastic plant and the few dog-eared spy novels taken from the library. 

How reminiscing.

The only thing that had changed was the added decor of makeup work that I still had to do. 

Like heck I was doing that.

The boxed-in room still smelled of must and damp concrete, despite the people who were in charge of sprucing this place up attempting to combat the stench using Febreze. They used a ton of it too. Each time I took a breath, I could taste the air freshener. 

I sat atop my cheap mattress, with had half of its springs broken. Each time I moved on it, it would make an annoying creaking noise.

I shut my only existing source of light off, leaving the room pitch-black. 

I opted to lie down on my mattress and at least try to sleep or take a nap, even though it was only 6:07 PM. After all, one hour of sleep equals one hour less of enduring the pain of The Box.

Unsurprisingly, I couldn't sleep for a while.

On top of everything that had happened on my last mission, only a little over four days ago, and the attacker in my room recently, it was even more challenging to get to bed. I had also slept for almost two days beforehand, so I was probably all out of rest. 

I had been trying to sleep for two hours and thirty-six minutes before finally starting to nod off. 

And then I heard a slight creaking noise. I at first shrugged it off as my bed, but then I heard footsteps walking across the room. There was only one person who knew how to get in here, a person who knew how to get past all the cameras and lasers that triggered an alarm and set off nerve gas.

Erica Hale. I was overjoyed  to have someone visit me, or really even have anything happen, while I was in this excuse of a room.

She came in through the door like a normal teenager sneaking back into their house at three AM after a party.

Of course, I couldn't exactly see her, because the room was pitch black. All I saw was a rough silhouette standing in the midst of my room.

"Hey." She whispered. "Are you up?"

I sat up on my mattress, resulting in an ugly creaking noise. "Yeah. What did you come here for?"

"To talk to you about your attacker."

My eyebrows fell and my expression changed to an annoyed grimace. I wouldn't have let myself look like this if the room wasn't pitch black. 

Of course she still wouldn't want to talk about the kiss. Even if we're more alone and isolated than anything else in the world.

Though I forgot something. Erica could hear and comprehend fifty-three separate facial expressions. Whatever that means.

"You're disappointed. Why?" She inquired.

"I'm not disappointed. I'm just—" I paused, thinking, trying to make my emotions sound better. "...My expectations were not fulfilled?" 

Now I could hear her face turn annoyed.