Amidst Our Broken World

Chapter 5 - Prisoner

I felt myself slowly regain consciousness, easing my way back to reality. Then the memories of what happened prior flooded back to me--my conversation with Owens, the pain of the needle, Six and the red ball, the blonde assistant appearing when I least expected him to. I jolted awake, the glare of the overhead lights blinding the rods in my eyes.

With great effort, I pushed myself up from the bed. I squeezed my eyes shut as the blood rushed to my head.

"Careful, now," a familiar voice advised, "Sudden movements won't feel good after being out for so long."

As the stars disappeared from my vision, I found the blonde sitting in the corner next to my bed. The curtains of my compartment were drawn, and based on the kind of bed I was in, I could tell I was in some sort of clinical sector of Hawkins Lab. 

I shook my head. I didn't care who was here or how long I'd been out for. All I knew was I needed to get out of this place. Swinging my legs over the bed, I ignored his suggestion. "I need to go--"

He caught me before my feet even touched the ground. But it wasn't one of those "damsel" catches where you feel as if you've been saved from fainting onto the ground. It felt as if I was being held in place, blocked from escape. "You're not going anywhere."

Surprised by him daring to touch me like this, I stared at him, wide-eyed with shock. Then I shoved him off me with all my strength. I wondered how long I had been out for me to feel this stiff and weak. 

We stared at each other for a moment until I had to break away from his piercing gaze. My heart thumped rapidly in my chest. Why am I getting so flustered around him? Does he really intimidate me that much?

"If you try to run, they'll shoot you on the spot."

I whipped my head back to look at him in astonishment. "But I'm--"

"Doesn't matter who you are." He cut me off again. "It's a government secret. Patriotism goes beyond something as fragile as familial loyalties."

So my uncle wouldn't care, huh. I shook my head in disbelief. I knew he was serious about his work, but I didn't know it ran this deeply.

"My mom would ask," I rebutted with false confidence.

"As far as the people in your life know, you were killed in a car accident on your way here."

Of course, that was thought through as well. My poor family, they had to be in great pain. Completely unwarranted pain. From grieving for a death that didn't even occur. If everything I was being told was really true, I didn't know what to think of my uncle. Whom I had thought to be a kind, gentle, loving man would turn out to be a complete sociopath with no regard for others, not even his own family.

I kept trying to think of any more ways I could somehow contact the outside for help to escape, but none came to me.

It started out as a sharp exhale, then a few chuckles. Soon, it sounded like hearty laughter at some unspoken funny joke that everyone else in the room was laughing at as well. Except it was only me. Not entirely accepting the blanket of despair that was gradually enfolding me.

The tall blonde just stood there and stared at me blankly. I wondered if he'd given these sorts of truth bomb conversations all the time. Perhaps he was used to seeing unhinged reactions such as mine.

"So what now?" I finally asked, a trace of a crazed smile still left on my face.

"You work for Hawkins Lab. For the rest of your life," he replied.

I leaned back to sit on the bed, running my fingers through my tangled hair. "Someone has to keep those kidnapped children company, I guess."

No reaction. No consolation, no light-hearted humor, no words of encouragement, though I doubt any of those would work, nothing to even attempt to make me feel better.

Maybe it was just a natural defense mechanism, but any train of thought that was forming about my current imprisonment was repressed to the back of my mind. Instead, the question that had been gnawing at me subconsciously since the moment I'd met him surfaced.

"What's your name?"

He stared at me for a second. I wouldn't be surprised if he thought something was wrong with me because who in their right mind would ask something so trivial, out of all the things they could say after being told they would probably never see their loved ones ever again? Then he let out a small laugh of disbelief.

"Peter. Peter Ballard."

I cocked my head to one side. "You don't look like a Peter."

I froze. I can't believe I let that slip out. My brain was in shambles at the moment. 

"S-sorry," I muttered, realizing how bizarre, or even rude, I'd sounded just now. But it was true. He seriously didn't look like a Peter.

He gave me a weird look, his mouth formed in a half smile, and his eyes slightly squinted in what I thought looked like curiosity. I never imagined I'd see him with such an expression. All I'd received from him every time we met was hostility. A mundane look on his face felt out of place, but at the same time, it was a pleasant one. One might even say he looked charming.

"I'm going to return to my duties," he said as he began to make his way out. "You've been given the rest of the day off, but you should return to your quarters once you're able to, and work will begin tomorrow at nine as usual."

I nodded and watched the white figure vanish behind the turquoise curtain. 

The wave of despair hit me all at once. I broke down, choking in-between my uncontrollable sobs, shaking with fear, anger, and a sense of betrayal. There was really nothing else to do. All I could do was let it all out before it killed me inside. 

I couldn't remember if I'd heard the door close prior.