The Bites

Chapter 6

Lead down the long, sterile corridor by a silent staff member, Brea's steps were hesitant, her body still recovering from the lingering effects of the electric shock. Her emotions were a turbulent sea - a mix of anger, fear, and a tinge of desperation. The cold, white surroundings seemed to amplify her sense of isolation.

As they reached the end of the corridor, a narrow white room awaited her. Startled when the door abruptly closed behind her, Brea stood in the confined space, feeling a sense of claustrophobia closing in on her. The silence was deafening until a disembodied voice shattered it.

"Take off your clothes," the voice commanded, resonating through the narrow room. Brea's eyes widened, a surge of resentment coursing through her. She hesitated, defiantly staring at the blank walls, reluctant to comply with this dehumanizing order.

However, the fear of further torture gnawed at her resolve. With an angry sigh, Brea begrudgingly removed the long white pants and shirt that clung to her body. The compartment in the wall opened, accepting her clothes with a mechanical hum before sealing shut.

A sudden shower of water cascaded down on her, surprising her with its unexpected arrival. Brea cursed under her breath; her anger vented in muttered defiance as she allowed the cleansing water to wash away the filth that had accumulated since her captivity began. It was a brief reprieve, a momentary escape from the sterile monotony of her surroundings.

The sting from her healing hands intensified briefly before subsiding, a testament to the unsettling power within her. The water continued to pour, offering a sense of refreshment that momentarily eased the physical and emotional toll she had endured.

Fifteen minutes passed, the water abruptly stopped, and a gentle wind filled the narrow room. It embraced her from all directions, drying her wet body. Brea shivered in the artificial breeze, her gaze wary as she anticipated the next phase of this perplexing routine.

Ding!- New, clean clothes materialized in the open compartment as the wind dissipated. Brea eyed them cautiously before reluctantly donning the fresh garments. "Okay! I'm done! Let me out of here!"

A door slid open, revealing an empty, sterile white corridor. Brea, adorned in the pristine attire provided, hesitated before stepping into the corridor, uncertainty etched across her face. The door closed behind her, leaving her in the eerily silent expanse.

Time seemed to stretch as Brea waited in the corridor, the unbroken whiteness disorienting. Another door eventually opened, leading her into a small, white room. Inside, a small bed, a sink, and a practical space for personal needs greeted her. The room was devoid of any comfort, reinforcing the clinical nature of the facility.

Brea paced the small room, her voice echoing off the sterile walls. "Well, congratulations to me. I've got my white room with a view of more white walls. What a luxury!"

Ding!

The compartment near the bed slid open, revealing a cup with liquid. Brea's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Another concoction from the mystery kitchen, I presume? What's in this one? Hope? Regret? Maybe a dash of misplaced trust?" She took a sip, her scepticism lingering.

The voice from the speaker interjected, "It's a necessary supplement for your well-being."

"Oh, well, thank you ever so much for caring about my well-being," Brea retorted with exaggerated gratitude. "I'm just bursting with gratitude in your cosy little prison."

With a lingering distrust, she sipped cautiously, each gulp a bitter reminder of her captivity.

Mocking laughter echoed in the chamber as Brea muttered sarcastically, "Oh, how considerate of them. A nutrition drink. Because, of course, they care about my well-being." Sarcasm became her coping mechanism, a thin veil over the growing frustration and desperation she felt.