Vegas and Pete: the series

The Cage within a Cage

POV Pete

When I wake up, the first thing I hear is the clink of a metal chain. The next thing I feel is the bite of a metal cuff snared on both my wrists. I blearily open my eyes and take in my surroundings. I was standing up in a bedroom I'd never seen before.

The room had no windows, but two doors. I was currently hanging in front of a wall that had four vertical rows of lights on it, they were all tinged in the same light red hue that the cells had. There was a bed with simple sheets and two pillows, a small dark black chest of drawers that sat next to a small end table that had a towel draped across it, a standing lamp with a simple shade, and oh yeah chains all strung up around the ceiling like demented party streamers.

I was currently attached to one. It hung down from the ceiling just above my head and both my wrists had been shackled into a pair of police-like cuffs. I'm not sure how long I'd been hanging there for but my wrists were already sore, not to mention the damage they'd already had after being tied up to that pillar.

The other distressing thing I noticed was that I only had my simple light blue boxers on, and nothing else.

I blink a few times to try and get the grogginess out of them as I lean a little onto one of my arms resting my head a bit. I should be more afraid, but right now I was too exhausted to muster up the appropriate amount of fear the situation warranted.

I had no idea where I was, how far from Bangkok Vegas had taken me, or how the hell I was going to get out of this. Maybe my most prevalent thought besides the fact that I was hungry was wondering what the hell Vegas had brought me here for. I understood his desire to torture me, but this went beyond that. What had he meant by making me a pet?

At the thought I hear a squeak of a noise and turn to notice that I wasn't in fact alone in the room. There was a bird cage in here sitting on the chest of drawers, and in that little bird cage was, I think, a hedgehog?

Just as I'm trying to figure that out the door to the room opens and Vegas walks in. He's still wearing the same clothes as when we'd been in the cells last so there was a good chance that we hadn't gone far enough that it warranted a change of clothes. Also there was a light bruise beginning to darken Vegas cheek. So given what I know about bruises, there was a good chance that not much time had passed at all.

Vegas ignores me as he enters the room instead heading straight for the hedgehog's cage. He kneels down and grabs the small teaspoon like utensil and then tips some food into the small white trey. "Someone must be hungry. Right?" He says in that cutesy voice that nearly all pet owners talked in. Then he pulls away slightly from the cage. "Oh, I forgot to feed another pet."

He then turns to me and I eye him cautiously, as he gets to his feet and leans down to let out the slack in the strong black braided rope that I'm tied to the ceiling with.

I slump down to the floor immediately, jarring my knees against the ground. It's then that I realize that I'm far weaker than I thought. It takes more strength then I would like to admit for me to rock back onto my heels and stare daggers up at Vegas from the ground. He looks at me expectantly like he's enjoying the sight of seeing me on my knees.

"Eat it." He commands me and I look down to spot the small circular tin in front of me that contains what looks like watery rice porridge. I look up at him and then back down at the bowl, and for a moment I think about it, about just doing what he said and eating. Though I had no utensils I could still hold the bowl and drink.

The moment I get a mental image of that though I find my hands, which had already reached their way over to the bowl at the bidding of my stomach, shoving it away, splashing some of its contents over the side and onto the floor. No, I wasn't going to make this that easy for him. I wasn't just going to become some obedient damn pet for this sadistic bastard. I'd rather die.