Clair de Lune

10. Pressure

I wasn't sure what time it was that night, but I was in the corner of my new, cell-like room, curled up in my blanket from home and eating the candy bar that Nolan had gotten me. I wasn't supposed to be eating hard foods yet but if I kept it in the back left side of my jaw, I was able to eat it just fine. The comfort food really did a lot to comfort me, just like its name promised. Before long it was gone and I was balled up on the floor, alone and unable to sleep.

Thunder roared above my head, another tear slipping down my cheek as it did so. The storm had started up about an hour ago and hadn't let up since, bringing back memories of the boy with blue eyes looming over me. The next crackle made me squeal, my hands flying up to cover my ears while I sobbed. I didn't like the gray walls, even though they weren't different than my ones back home, but I didn't want to be alone knowing I was in a facility surrounded by other people.

That itself propelled me out of my corner and out into the hall. I pulled the blanket around me like a cape while I sniffled and closed my door behind me, thinking about how glad I was that it didn't lock automatically as I walked away. I could tell most of the building was asleep by now, but a few agents were up and about, most likely working the night shift to watch for anyone causing trouble. I found myself in the entertainment area, staring at the screen on the wall as another figure sat beneath it. I realized after a moment it was Necro, listening in on a political debate about one thing or another. I'm sure he wouldn't mind me intruding so I walked over, making sure to make myself known before taking a seat beside him.

"Hey," I said quietly, "can't sleep either?"

"My mind's always running in high gear, I don't sleep very much." He chuckled. "How come you're up?"

"I hate the thunder." I told him, pulling my blanket tighter around me. "Always have, always will."

"Typically astraphobia is linked with some past trauma or mental disorder having to do with loud sounds," he explained quietly, and I was intrigued, "what caused yours?"

"Trauma, I guess." I said with a shrug. "I always remembered thunder being associated with something bad when I was little and it stuck with me. Now that everything's happened-" I paused, holding my tongue on what I was about to say, "I just guess it's gotten worse since the fire."

"I understand, to an extent." He nodded. "At least you're not in a situation like mine with nyctophobia, that'd be horrific."

"I'd imagine It'd be pretty hard to deal with a fear of the dark when that's all you see." I laughed gently, smiling and looking back up at the television screen. "You seem pretty smart Necro, what's your secret?"

"Well, I spend a lot of time listening to the audiobooks on the shelves. I like learning, it's a good way for me to broaden my horizons while still stuck behind these damn walls."

"So you don't like it here then, do you?" I teased, and he seemed to give me a somewhat serious sideways glance.

"Everything is not as they appear to be behind these walls." He said ominously as he lifted up his bandage wrapped arm. "I lied to you earlier, no one threw me into anything. I took a plastic spoon and cut into my arm to dig the tracker out."

"What? What tracker?"

"The one they put into yours earlier today." He nodded towards my arm. "Look, I trust you enough to tell you I don't plan on staying here long. It's a nice place, but not when you're on the shipping end of the next world war."

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

"We are not here for their amusement. We're here to make them bank in selling us to the highest bidder." He looked me dead in the eyes, even though he had no stare. "I'm leaving before that happens. I've been here for almost a month now, that's way too long for me to like."