Space Egg

December 9th-10th

When I opened my eyes the only thing blasting my senses was pain. My head was pounding like a banshee found a Lance and decided that my head looked like good target practice. My ribs felt like they had been rolled over by a dump truck a few times too many. My whole body felt like it was being dipped in molten lava found in the depths of hell.
I wasn't feeling too good.
A groan escapes my lips, my head feeling like it was going to cave in on itself. I try to bring my arm up to rub my head, instead, I find that my arms feel like jello and that my legs can barely move.
The lights in the room around me feel so impossibly bright. White and sterile. Panicked, I shut my eyes, but it barely makes a ding in the monster of a migraine pounding through my skull like a jackhammer on a mission. My world was swirling around me, a mess of jumbled thoughts and panicked gasps. Every breath I take I can feel ribs clicking, scraping, pounding. Tears run down my face, and yet I can do nothing to stop them. I wasn't sure if it was the panic or the pain.
"Hey, Pennie," a far-off voice soothes.
"You there?"
Yes, I'm here you idiot!! I want to scream. Except the only sound I can make my lips plead is "Help." Because I did need help. I was in pain, immense amounts of pain. So sharp and blinding my thoughts felt as if they were retreating to the dark and cushy cave they had come from.
    "Don't worry," the voice reassures. "I'm going to make the pain go away, ok?"
A sob escapes my lips, the sound only making my head hurt worse. Flashes of red-hot pain stab into my body, like flames running through my veins.
"Just one second." The voice promises patting my shoulder softly. "Hold on one second longer."
I ground myself on the words, forcing my brain to cling to them. The pain will be gone. I remind myself over and over again.
"Hang on." The voice murmurs squeezing my hand.
I was doing my best to hang on, I really was. Yet even still my thoughts were clouding, my body viscously shaking. My head was convulsing, flashes of white bright light dancing through my head blinding my thoughts.
I had never felt pain like this. Pain is so shocking I feel like throwing myself off a cliff might hurt less. I try to choke back cries and try to keep my hands from twitching with every sudden shock of pain. My cheeks are wet, coated in salty tears. 
But I can't. All I can do is lie there and pray away the pain. Pray for it to end.
My prayers are answered when I feel a cool piece of plastic placed over my face, instantly my whole body relaxing. The pain washes away, but so does my conciseness. My thoughts dwindle, my fingers relaxing from whoever's hand I seem to of been squeezing tight enough to break fingers.
I let myself fall back and drift into the dark waters of comfort washing over me.

I'm immediately induced with washes of panic. I throw the blankets gingerly laid over me away, tearing off the mask placed over my face. I try to run, not even pausing a moment to take in my surroundings or let the pain racking through me register. Or more so I try to run. The moment I jump out of bed and take my first step the IV clinging to my arm topples the metal rack holding the bag of fluids down, tripping me, all the while my legs give out and I throw up from the pain. My ribcage convulses from the pain, and suddenly I'm lying on the ground curled up in a fetal position next to a puddle of my own bile.
"I heard you threw yourself to the ground. I didn't realize it was a recurring habit though."
I open my eyes looking up to the source of the voice. Hovering near the door of the cold white hospital-looking room is a boy, looking about my age. His blond hair is carelessly tousled. His skin was tan like he had spent just a little too much time in the sun, complete with freckles dancing over every part of his face.
He approaches, peering above me. "You ok?"
I lower my head back to the cold hard ground squeezing my eyes shut. Dear God let this be a dream.
I feel him nudge me with his foot.
Definitely not a dream.
"If you're trying to look dead you're definitely getting there."
With a pained groan, I open my eyes, shielding my face from the painfully bright lights making my skull throb.
"Want a hand?" He offers, reaching out offering to help me up. His eyes twinkle with laughter, his lips curved ever so slightly in a mischievous grin. 
"I feel dead," I murmur, a drone in my head heavy and cold.
"You got pretty close a few hours ago. Could we not repeat that and get you off this floor? Please? Because if you died on the floor that wouldn't look very good for me." He declares, grabbing me firmly by my shoulders and pulling me into a sitting position.
"There you go." He declares wrapping my arm around his shoulders and standing up.
My legs sway uncertainly under me as I try to scramble away from this stranger trying to help me.
Just as fast as I pushed away my head started to fog and I scrambled for the bed beneath my grasp.
" Oh snickerdoodle's, don't pass out," The boy pleads, grabbing my arm and lowering me onto the cot. "And don't be an idiot either. I have to deal with plenty of those already, I don't need another."
I stare at the boy, silently panicking. I look at my arm, still hooked up to the IV now toppled on the ground beside the cot. I look to the other side of me where an oxygen mask is now strewn on the cot. I'm in a hospital gown, a monitor tracking my heart rate now frantically flying off the charts binging in a warning.
"Am I in the Hospital?" I force myself to ask trying to swallow the nightmare of memories in the forefront of my head.
"Sure." The boy said, a smile quirking his lips revealing one dimple on his right cheek. "We're in the Hospital. No- wait. You're in the Hospital."
I look away silently cursing this boy. I was in no hospital. And I was an idiot for even thinking that, because upon closer inspection the boy had a gun strapped to his belt and a knife to his leg. Not only was I not in a hospital, I was stuck. Stuck strapped up to multiple medical machines, with a boy who had a gun and a knife.
Frantically I begin to try to pull at the IV in my arm. It had to come out. I had to get out. With it in me, I was stuck, kidnapped, and held hostage in this unfamiliar place.
"Hey, Hey! Calm down." The boy pleads grabbing my free arm and pinning it away from the other. I struggle against his grasp, trying to elbow him in the stomach but to no avail. He twists my arm behind me painfully, pinning it immobile.
"Hold still." He warns, looking me sternly in the eyes. "And listen, please."
I do as he said, not because I want to but because I have literally no other choice. He had one arm pinned behind me, the other stuck to an IV, and he had a gun and a knife.
"Listen, I'm going to take the IV out. But I can't have you running. The door is locked, and you're still partly sedated. You're just going to end up falling and hurting yourself more. And you can't do that, no matter how much you seem to love the floor."
I scowl at his snide remarks. "If it weren't for you idiots-"
"Shh." He shushes placing a finger on my lips. "I'm trying to keep idiots to a minimum. I swear when you speak of them they like to appear."
"What was that Keefie?" Somebody asks stepping into the door.
"Well speak of the devil," Keefie murmurs a mischievous smile hiding on his lips.
I look up, only for my blood to run cold. The heart monitor at the side of the room starts to yell at me angrily as of warning to calm the heck down. My fingers hum as cold memories bash into my head. The man folded on the ground, blood staining my mother's once white linen skirts, my own hands sticky and red. That ride to the police station. He had died. I had held the man's hand whispering that he would be ok until his fingers fell slack. The EMT's had to pull me away from his lifeless body. I kept on telling them I would help him feel better. I never did.
"Pennie, I'm glad to see you're feeling better." He nods to Keefie who's still pinning my arm awkwardly behind my back and the mess of the room I had made.
My mouth is agape like a fish gasping for air.
"You Kidnapped me. You should be dead?"
He smiles softly. "I should be, shouldn't I? Except a stupid little girl wouldn't let me let go."
My hands twitch.
"My Moms not a murderer." The realization breaths through my lips like my first breath of real air in 11 years. My Mom never killed anyone. Except she did shoot this man, to protect me. My blood runs cold and the heart monitor begins to lose it again.
The boy, Keefie, releases my arm grabbing my shoulder to steady my swaying body. "I can't stay here." I declare, twisting myself away.
I try to stand.
Keefie immediately pushes me back down.
"You can." He said with a smile.
I look up to the man standing in the doorway, his skin a deep shade of olive, his eyes with deep shadows only telling of how many nights of lack of sleep he had received. His stubble only adds to his unruly affect. His face, the exact same as I remember it, had haunted my nightmares for as long as I could remember.
"How?" I Breath pleadingly. "How are you still alive? Why, why am I here? Why now? Why me?" The words come rushed and tumble out of my mouth frantically like I'm going to run out of time. My hands clench the sheets of the hospital bed beneath me, each breath burning my lungs in anger and fear.
I want to run, want to make my way away from this place, want to find the nearest phone and call the police. But I can't. I can barely stand, never mind escape in my state.
"Pennie, I know the situation looks... dire. And I know the circumstances look bad, but I swear-"
     I push my feet off the floor, so suddenly Keefie doesn't even have time to push me back down. I try to rush forward, ignoring the IV still stuck in my arm. I try to move forward, sidestepping the puddle of bile next to the cot. I try to rush towards the door while it's still open. It is irrational, entirely impossible, but quite frankly I don't care. I see an opportunity, no matter how small, and rush to take it.
Immediately I regret my stupid choices when my side crumbles in on me. I clutch it, gasping for the air that seems to of rushed out of my lungs. The throb in the base of my skull grows louder and my head swims looking for anything to grasp onto to keep myself awake. I don't let my legs crumble from under me when I stop cold in my tracks. Instead, I lock my knees, pulling my arms around myself. My heart races in my ears, cold from pain. When the man in front of me steps forward, I stumble back, my fear erasing and rational thoughts. My Mom had given her life to save me from this man. To protect me from whatever life I had just been dragged into.
Only when I feel a pair of hands grab my arms do my legs release from under me, my body weight going lax. My vision fogs, my breaths falling even beginning to match the slowing rhythm of the pace of my heart. Except when my eyelids flit, trying to find their way closed I feel a sharp and cool slap in the face. A yelp escapes my lips, more from surprise than anything  else.
"There you are." I look up at the voice, once again perched in the cot, the IV now gone from my arm. The door is shut again, and my right arm is firmly tethered to the arm of the bed beside me.
"You Idiot!" I exclaim, frantically trying to pull my arm away from the bed.
"You gotta let the sedation wear off before you try to run. Then please, do be my guest to try and escape. I'd love to see how that goes for ya." Keefie tuts, feigning a serious face. "And also, remember what I said about Idiots. I don't like that word."
"Go look in a mirror," I grumble, doing my best to loosen the zip tie holding my wrist firmly in place.
The plastic is course against my skin, tight enough to allow a pulse of its own to form in my arm. My ribs are pounding in my side, a fair warning of why not to run. My chest tightens, remembering what happened last time I was locked and confined to a room. Explosions ricochet in my head, the ringing in my ears that still hasn't fully left reminding me of its presence. This time if that happens again, I couldn't run. I was tethered to place both by this zip tie and my body's damb limitations. I would sit here as explosions sounded around me, being torn apart with no choice in my fate.
I look up to Keefie meeting the boy's opalescent eyes. "I swear to you, take off the zip ties and I won't run. Please."
Keefie studies me as if even pretending to consider the option. "No can do busteroo, gotta earn trust for that one." He declares, smiling as if this was helpful.
Gosh, I wasn't going to get the easy way out.
"Please." I beg, trying my best to get sympathy points, "I can't- I can't stay trapped." I warn gesturing frantically to my arm. I force enough truth into my words. Because I couldn't stay trapped, just not for the reason I was eluding to. Half-truths were always easier than out rite lies. I could squeeze enough of my own true emotion into the falsification of my lie, stewing the water just murky enough to not see through.
    Keefie studies me quizzically, his freckled face reading into every move I make.
    "I can tell you stressed."
    Now it's my turn to watch him quizzically.
    "I can also tell you're deathly afraid of Kaz."
    My teeth grind, as my anger does the same. This boy was reading into me like I was a clear slate set out for his reading.
    "What I can't tell, why are you so afraid of being stuck?"
    My breath sucks in at his proper assessment. I slide my face away from his reading glances, furrowing my brow, ignoring the pounding pain in my head and the ache in my ribs.
    "Why was I sedated?"
    Now he furrows his brow at me. "Do you not remember?"
    "Remember what?"
    He holds his hand up, flexing it open and closed as if releasing sore muscles. I watch, noticing his dusting of freckles travel down to his hands.
    "I thought you were going to break my fingers."
    This perks my memory, a reminder of that feverish awakening. The fire ran through my veins. How I had graciously grasped the hand offering me comfort, clinging onto it like it was the last thread of my life. I look up to the soft, yet still somehow stern face in front of me.
    "You!" I yell, both a mixture of surprise and anger.
    "Tada." He said disheartened, with a flourish of his hands. "I thought you were a goner."
    If I could move I would kick him in the shin. Instead, I grimace, welcoming how dull the throb in my head feels to how it had felt then. Like a knife bathed in acid plunged into my skull, slowly twisted, each motion pulling at a fiber of my being till I was almost gone.
    "Why did I almost die?" I question, my heart flitting in fear from the memory of the dart lodging into my shoulder. I know it was that, I remember the fire building in my heart the moment poison ran through my veins.
    "Turns out you don't like tranquilizer darts."
    My free hand strays to my lips pulling away at the dry skin nervously at the thought of the gun pointed to my head, The thought of me doing the same to someone else, how they must've felt.
    "If I'm sedated, why can't you get rid of the zip tie?" I question, grounding myself back at my original topic, shaking away my memories.
    "Because you've clearly proved that you're madly in love with the floor."
    This boy was increasingly infuriating.
    "I can't run, I've clearly proved that. The door is locked, and you have a gun and a knife. Do you really expect me to try and run again?"
    He looks at me flatly. "Yes."
I try to hold back my anger and fear bubbling to my lips. Yet the boy sitting in front of me was anything but scary. Intimidating maybe, but with his golden features, tan skin, blond hair, and freckled face he looked like he could scarcely kill a fly. But even still he had a gun strapped to his waist, a knife to his leg. His fingers aimlessly twisted the hilt of the knife, the leather binding around the wood frayed and worn with indents on his fingers. It dawned on me suddenly that I had no idea why he was hovering aimlessly around me. In the vast number of spy movies I had watched the captors wouldn't typically shove a teenage boy who looked like he couldn't kill a spider in with the victim and a sad attempt to intimidate them. Unless he was going to annoy me to death, this boy was useless. That also being said, I wasn't sure why I would even need intimidating. If I was here to feed these people information I was sorely lacking in that department.
"Why are you here?" I ask bluntly, not bothering to try to hide my disdain. 
"To make sure you don't decide to try and die.. again." He said a smirk pulling at his lips as he grabbed the metal folding chair perched in the corner of the room, dragging it across the hard tile floors closer to me. It makes an awful screeching sound. Instinctively I clammer back, tugging my uselessly zip-tied arm as I attempt to block both my ears. The ringing left in my ears from the bombing flares, and Keefie can clearly see my discomfort.
He places his chair down, the painful noise subsiding. I let my shoulders slide down, relaxing my pinched muscles.
He watches my face carefully. I can feel his restless eyes scanning me for any signs of pain. A pinched bridge of the nose, a scrunch of the temples. I let him find nothing.
"Why are you so terrified of Kaz?" He nudges into my thoughts, his question sudden.
"Why am I here?" I shoot back. And eye for an eye, a question for a question.
His lips purse, his freckled nose scrunching. "I highly doubt I have any authority to tell you that."
"Will I be allowed to leave?" I try this time.
His sideways glance is answer enough.
I quietly curse under my breath, brushing the stray hairs out of my eyes. I let my head fall back to the mound of pillows behind me, noticing for the first time that the blankets that I had strewn across the floor before were once again gingerly laid over my legs.
"I can go get Kaz and see-" he begins.
I dash back up, my eyes crazed. "No, no need."
His jaw works as he studies me, my eyes darting around the cold and practically empty room. "I'll ask if he doesn't visit." He answers, standing up abruptly from his chair.
I lean back again as he exits the room, closing my eyes when I hear the door click locked behind him.
I was trapped in a cage, cornered from every side by monsters.
I was going to get out of here if it was the last thing I ever did. For my sake, for Moms.