Solitude

Chapter Four- The chair in the loft

I listened to this song multiple times while I wrote this, it's been recently appointed as my new favorite song.

Carry on.

My fingers twitched with a nervous fear. It had been almost a week since they took Carver away and I'd began to worry that they'd already killed him. Most of my days were spent cooking dinners for myself and pacing around, I hardly had enough time to sleep. I'd found there was an annoying hum coming from the walls that annoyed me to my breaking point, it wasn't so loud where you'd notice it immediately, but once you'd heard it you couldn't not hear it. It's like my ears searched for the sound, the only sound that filled this level up completely to the brim. I couldn't bare it any longer.

Staying in my room seemed like the best option at the moment but I couldn't stop myself from wandering around. I've even found myself in Carver's loft attempting to read a book about industrial machines and how they all almost worked in the same basic ways, using some sort of energy source to operate. It was an interesting topic, but it was too boring even for me to read. However, I was very interested in how comfortable that chair in the loft was and I've decided to claim it as mine, even though it was in Carver's room. I'd slept in that blessedly comfortable chair one of the nights, hoping something would happen. Nothing ever did. I didn't know why I expected something to happen, I guess I just felt like something was going to happen I just didn't know what yet.

On the ninth night Carver was gone, when all the lights had been turned off automatically and everything- even the annoying humming- was silent, they brought him back. I ran downstairs, my footsteps light and soundless the opposite of my contained excitement. Loud curses of guards trying to carry his sedated body woke me up. I'd got down stairs just in time to see them dump his body on the floor next to the couch. Once they saw me, they brought their dart guns up and aimed at my face. The color drained from my body, the excitement still lingering in the back of my mind.

"Stay right where you are or we will shoot." I brought my hands up slowly next to my head and waited to move when they were in the transport system. Twisting my hair back into a low bun I crouched over Carver, my excitement coming back to the surface.

"Carver?" I shook his shoulder gently. "Carver? Oh please don't be dead." He groaned before swatting my hand forcefully away. "Oh thank goodness. What happened? What did they do to you? Why were you gone so long?" Dim lights were turned on so I could now see his face much better. His lip was split and bleeding and his neck was bruised. There was a cut on his right pectoral that was still bleeding, it was close to the metal ball attached to his nipple, and dirty grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. A few bruises dotted his arms and torso, but nothing life threatening bad. The inside of Carver's wrists were extremely bruised along with the fleshy part of his elbow, almost like they poked him with needles.

"How do you know my name?" He forced out, wheezing a little. I placed my hand on his arm helpfully when he stood up on wobbly legs, still a little drowsy from the drugs they gave him. Gosh was I so excited to see his face.

"The lady on the intercom said it before they took you away." He pushed my helping hand away with disgust. My excitement didn't know what to do anymore, go away or come out. I'd overlooked that Carver was still a complete jerk and probably wouldn't be too happy to see me. Feeling dejected, I sat on the couch and watched as he struggled to walk around the couch before finally giving up and sitting down on the armrest.

"Winifred, right?" My head bobbed. "I don't need help okay, and I don't need your pity or concern. Just stop trying to fucking help me." I stood up and walked around to his front so I was all that he could see. I needed him to think I was okay with being on my own all this time.