Hunted

Secret Room

*Lacey's POV*

     Alex is becoming paler with each passing minute. He's lost way too much blood and I have nothing here to help him. As much as I don't want to, I have to leave and find supplies or he's going to die. "I'll be right back. Hang in there Alex." I whispered as I stood up and left the room.

It would be so much easier if I knew where I was but I don't. The one and only time I managed to escape I didn't really find an exit before I was captured again. I can't help but laugh as I look back on everything that's happened and how much my views have changed since then. I'm not really sure why I'm doing this other than the simple fact that he's my brother. Crazy, sadistic man he may be, but my brother nonetheless. Up until today, I couldn't even begin to fathom how he could do the things he did but after seeing his scars I have a feeling he doesn't know any other way. To be subjected to that amount of pain and suffering at such a young age must have really done a number on his psyche and I can't help but sympathize with him.

I ran down the hall, away from  that dreaded room I accidentally stumbled upon last time. I passed by two doors but both of them were locked. I could have swore I heard someone crying from one of them but I'll have to worry about that later. I turned the corner and almost ran face first into a wall. It was a dead end. I sighed and started back the way I came, careful to avert my eyes from the open door of his trophy room. I really didn't want to see those pictures again, and I had a feeling he had already put Aura up on the wall as his latest victim. Past that room there was nothing but shelf upon shelf piled high with boxes. I must have missed something. There has to be more to this place. I doubled  back and started looking at every little thing, hoping to find something I didn't see the first time.

I was just about to give up, admit defeat and probably watch Alex die when I saw it. A small handle protruded from the supposedly solid floor, almost completely hidden from view by some knocked over boxes. I quickly cleared a path to it and tugged. Hinges groaned loudly in protest as a trapdoor opened, allowing access to what looked like an entire room hidden beneath the floor. I really didn't want to go down there but I didn't have a choice. There might be something that would help save Alex's life. I just have to swallow my fears and go down there, plain and simple.

I took a deep breath and walked down the stairs. It was way too dark to see anything so I reached up and felt around until I found a light cord. I pulled and the room was bathed in a sterile white light. Or maybe it just looked that way on account of the contents of the room. Everything, from the walls to the floor, was white except for the bed. The bed was metal and bolted to the floor. It looked sturdy, like no amount of force could break it free. Restraints ran across the entire width of the bed, just like the ones you see in psych wards on TV. I shuddered, images of what probably went on down here running through my mind. The only other thing in the room was a counter with a built-in sink and at least twenty drawers which I found rather odd. He must have built this himself or had it special made because I've never seen that many drawers on such a small counter. I cautiously opened the first one and looked inside. It was full, I mean completely full, of scalpels of different sizes and sharpness. Some were dull but shiny, as if they were well taken care of and meant to not be sharp. Others looked as if even the slightest of pressure would pierce the skin. I shuddered and quickly slammed the drawer shut. The second drawer had a few metal devices I couldn't identify. One had three metal bars with hoops attached to a screw. I picked it up and examined it, not sure what it was used for. I turned the screw and watched in fascination as the hoops compressed with each turn and realized that it was used for crushing things, probably fingers and such. I carefully laid it back down and picked up a second device. It had four separate segments that were closed, giving it almost a pear shape. A short handle protruded from the top and when I turned it, the parts expanded. I thought for a moment but couldn't really see what its purposed was. I probably didn't want to know either. I shrugged my shoulders and placed it back in the drawer and closed it. I opened the third drawer and smiled. It was full of gauze and bandages,  just what I needed to help Alex. I stuffed as many as would fit in my pocket and searched the other drawers for anything else I could use.

In the end, a few other drawers had thread and scissors which I thought could be used for stitching if need be, some alcohol, and ointment. The rest were filled with the same types of things as the second and first drawer.  I'm pretty sure this is where most of the pictures on his wall were taken and probably where most of his victims were tortured and killed but I refuse to think about that right now. Unable to carry any more, I walked back up the stairs and exited the room, making sure to shut the door back behind me. I ran as fast as I could to Alex, praying he wouldn't be dead when I there.

By the time I got back the bleeding had almost stopped. I cleaned the wound as best as I could using the gauze and alcohol. Now that I could actually see the cut I was surprised he wasn't dead. It was so deep  I could see multiple layers of tissue and something white, which I thought might be his bones. He was definitely going to need stitches and I have no idea how to do that. I poured some more alcohol into it just for good measure then with shaky hands threaded the needle. I'm so scared I feel like passing out. I've never done this before and I'm terrified I'm just gonna do more harm than good. I mean of course I've seen them do stitches on TV shows before but this isn't the same thing. "I'm so sorry Alex." I cried as I pushed the tip of the needle through his skin and pulled it through.

His eyelids started to flutter and he slowly opened his eyes. I froze, scared to death he was going to freak out or think I was trying to hurt him. "Don't move, please. I'm trying to stitch you up." I said and showed him the needle. He nodded and winced in pain as I continued piercing him over and over again until the wound was finally closed. "There, all done." I said and waited for a response. He pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall. His eyes were closed and his breathing heavy. I sat across from him, unsure of what to do. "Thank..you." he mumbled after a few minutes. He looked at me, hesitation in his eyes. "I thought you would leave me to die. I'm glad you didn't." he added. "I thought about it, but I couldn't. You're my brother, no matter what's happened to you or what you've done." I said, tears in my eyes. He stared at me as if it were the first time we had ever met. After a few long and painful moments he sighed deeply and said, "I'm ready to tell you what happened to me."