Room 25

This Is why you answer me

Wallpaper peeled from the sullen, beige walls. Mold plastered the ceiling, and the musty smell of dampness and regret filled the vast emptiness that was room 25. The only furniture was a double bed, a table with two dining chairs, a tv with a stand and coffee table, and a simple kitchen setup in the corner. Chris moved towards the ensuite. "Hey." Chris stopped in her tracks as she felt a hand clasp her shoulder, the grip tightening. "Where do you think you're going?" Chris sighed, "What? Can I not use the toilet now, asshat?" Gunter let go of her shoulder before entering the ensuite. Chris heard the clattering and clicking of him snooping around the room. He then returned. "You have 10 minutes." Chris turned her back to Gunter, who reluctantly uncuffed her. She then walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her before collapsing onto the floor into a pile of shock, terror, and confusion as she clasped her mouth in a desperate attempt to hide her cries.

Throughout her years of being a therapist, she had worked with multiple disturbed individuals and had subsequently learned how to adapt and change accordingly to their actions. She had also learnt how to recognize such individuals. And for some reason, this man rang all the alarm bells in her head. *BANG* Chris quickly jolted forward as the door shook from the impact of Gunter's fist "5 MINUETS!" He yelled. Chris managed to get ahold of herself as she rose off the floor, wiping tears away from her flooded eyes and soaked skin.

As she sat down on the toilet, she examined the room. She noticed a lock had been placed around the latch on the window. No doubt Gunter's work. She recognized it as a padlock. This was good. 'I know how to pick locks.' Chris shook her head in confusion. "What?" Chris stared at the floor, her mouth slightly ajar, 'Since when can I-' *BANG*, yet another fist slammed into the door. "TIME'S UP. I'M GIVING YOU AN EXTRA MINUTE TO OPEN THIS DOOR BEFORE I BURST IN THERE." Chris quickly wrapped up, flushing the toilet and cleaning her hands before rushing to open the door.

Gunter was lent against the wall opposite the door. Cuffs in one hand. Chris had to find a way to gain this man's trust. She didn't want to, but she knew that in order to do that, she'd have to cooperate. She stood tall, confident, with a slight side eye. Lip frowned, eyes strong, head up. She knew she had to keep up her persona; otherwise, it'd be game over. She then spoke. "Stop looking at me like I'm a piece of shit of your shoe." She waited to observe his reaction. During the ride here, she had taken her time to change her persona to see which one hit. Which one would help her out. He responded just as she expected to Chris' relief.

Gunter sighed, his eyes redirecting to the floor before standing up and grabbing Chris. This was great for Chris. This meant that his chances of being a severely disturbed individual were low. The way he responded to this slight change in persona proved it. This meant Chris had a shot of getting out. 'PTSD? No, Anxiety, depression? All three?' As Chris was led to a chair that was now in the center of the room, she ran multiple diagnoses through her head. 'Maybe- ah!' Gunter slammed Chris down into the chair before bending down behind and gesturing to her, "Hands." He requested. Chris reluctantly slid her hands through the gaps in the chair's back. She felt the cold of metal confine her wrists as multiple clicks were heard. Gunter then began on each ankle. Again, a rush of cold clasping each ankle tighter with every click. Chris was trying to keep face, but her hyperventilation was evident, and she knew it. Gunter saw it. And he responded accordingly. "You need some water or something?" His voice mumbled. Guilt. Despite showing evident detest for Chris, he showed guilt. This was a great sign. Chris began to run all his symptoms through her head again before she was interrupted by Gunter. "Hey!" He yelled, grabbing her chin and yanking it to look at him."I asked you a question. Now answer." Chris had completely blanked. Before she could respond, she felt a sharp pain flood her left arm as the warmth of blood hit her skin. Chris was shocked. She looked to her left arm as Gunter let go of her. 'He cut me. No hesitation.' Chris quickly looked back at Gunter. 'He shows no remorse, but why? He showed guilt for restraining me, but no remorse for inflicting pain?' Chris was now severely confused, 'Was I wrong? Is he just a good masker?' Before she could continue her train of thought, Gunter spoke again. "This is why you should answer me." Chris looked up. Gunter continued. "This is how this is gonna work. I ask a question. You answer. If you don't?" He presented a now blood-splattered scalpel before wiping the blood off and placing it in a glass. He then walked over to the kitchen counter and began to boil the kettle, leaving Chris to wonder how such an unstable individual could possibly be a CIA agent.

...

Gunter poured newly boiled water and salt into the glass, Chris began to panic. 'This man isn't as easy as I thought.'