The manipulation games (Y/N x 001)

The Escape

Chapter 4:

You approached the rainbow room nervously, your mouth dry. The chilled, tiled corridors seemed labyrinthine and only added to your unease. You wrapped your arms around you, attempting to ward off the permanent chill of the lab. The only sound cutting through the silence was your soft steps on the floor.

But your unease wasn't because of the training you knew you had to eventually do. No. It was because a plan was forming in your mind. A reckless, stupid plan, but you didn't care. You didn't need anyone's help. You knew you never could rely on anyone to help you before in your life, so why now? There was no way you could just trust Blondie without even knowing his motivations. Besides, he worked for the asshole responsible for your imprisonment here. Still, perhaps you should have heard him out, you wondered.

They have made a big mistake at bringing me here

You thought, almost laughing at the insanity of it. You wanted to escape and blow this whole fucking place to the ground

Anxiety pooled in your stomach as you approached the room. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door, spotting a guard clad in white. The guard who sedated you at your kidnapping.

Good

You thought. Maybe you would feel less guilty about surely getting him into trouble.

But where was Blondie? He was usually here. Despite yourself, you were almost glad you didn't have to cross him to escape. You didn't trust him, but something about him comforted you. He was so warm and comforting, compared to the unfeeling workers here. No matter that whenever he was close your whole body tensed up. No matter that he had you blushing with every touch.

Striding over to a chess board on a rickety white plastic table in the sorry excuse for a "playroom," you knocked into the guard, sending the table and all the chess pieces flying. In the disruption, you swiped his keycard, holding it subtly so he would not notice what you had stolen.

"I-I'm so sorry!" you started, the picture of innocence. The guard sighed and death glared you, obviously pissed off.

Asshole

You thought. You definitely didn't feel guilty as you made an excuse to use the toilet.

Fighting a smug smile tugging up your lips, you hastened your steps, trying to find a door that needed a keycard. Your breaths started coming hard as you almost jogged down the corridors. You didn't know where you were going. 'Yeah, this is a really bad idea,' you thought. But you had nothing to lose. Freedom felt so close you could almost taste it and you would fight tooth and nail to get it.

Suddenly, clipped footsteps echoed down the hall and you stopped in your tracks. You prayed to God that whoever was approaching was not Dr Brenner. Your heart stopped and a wave of panic erupted from your body as the doctor approached, pushing a trolley full of medical instruments. She spotted you.

"Where on earth are you going?," she asked in the same condescending tone that teachers had used to discipline you when you were younger. 

No. You weren't going to show pity on these awful people. Your hands fumbled for the small knife probably used for dissection on the stainless steel trolley. It was small, but it wasn't your first time having to defend yourself. It could work. You'd use it if it meant the difference between remaining a prisoner and being free. You pushed the trolley into her, sending the utensils flying on the floor in a loud commotion. The guards definitely heard that.

You made out in a sprint down the maze of identical halls, crying in frustration at your blind recklessness and the fear of the punishment if you were caught.

Gruff shouts from the guards sounded behind you, and your fear intensified as you heard them get closer and closer. You didn't consider yourself exactly fit, and after being sedated multiple times, you felt like an old woman being outpaced.

Taking a sharp right, your stupidly impractical shoes slipped on the tiles, squeaking loudly and sending you sprawling and winded from the hard fall you took.

Your adrenaline rush crashed as three sets of rough hands ripped you from the floor, not attempting to be gentle. Wielding your pathetic knife, you felt no guilt as you twisted out of their grip and jammed it into the tallest guard's neck. He cried out in agony as you took the knife back out and stabbed into the palm of the other guard who was lunging for you. In a fit of rage, he ripped the knife out from his hand and sunk it into your stomach, making a scream erupt from your mouth. The guard slapped you, sending you flying on the floor.

The wound in your stomach was shallow, but the pain was making you unable to see straight. Your cheek throbbed, a bruise forming. You coughed, seeing double, and bit your tongue as two guards yanked you up. The third was lying on the floor, twitching. He was probably almost dead.

Fingernails digging into your shoulder, they dragged you down the corridors, a different path to the way you came. Drowsiness set in as you could feel your nightgown soak with blood. You felt numb with shock, spots forming in your vision.

Dimly, you noticed you passed Blondie as you were dragged down the hall, your walking becoming more uneven as the stab wound bled more. His face was the picture of shock as he saw you being escorted down the hall and then fury as he saw the wound. Why would he even care? He was the last thing you remembered before the guards shoved and handcuffed you into a cold metal chair in an unfamiliar room and your body shut down.

This chapter was written by Rain <3