Survive [Cryaotic x Reader] (Discontinued)

(Seven)

The door opened, but you remained motionless, focusing instead on keeping your eyes shut against the light spilling into your small room. It was always dark, so any ounce of brightness seemed blinding to your unaccustomed retinas.

If the door was being opened, that meant one of two things; either it was time to feed you measly scraps so that you didn't starve to death quite yet, or Catto had had an especially bad day and needed to take his anger out on something. It didn't happen too often, but when it did, it was sure to cause you pain for weeks afterward. You prayed that he only had food for you this time around.

Seconds ticked by in silence, your anxiety growing as it became less likely this would be a pleasant visit. Finally you dared to lift your head to stare blankly at the silhouette in the doorway. He didn't appear to be carrying anything. You felt your body sag in resignation of the beating that was sure to come.

Oliver Catto studied your still bruised and battered form for a moment longer. You were positive that, at this point, you looked so thin and sickly that you could easily pass as one of the starved people in the apocalypse again. You didn't know how many weeks had passed - you had stopped counting a while ago - but you knew it had been long enough for Catto to strip you of any resemblance you had to the healthy state you had been in when you entered the game.

As you continued to wait for Catto to attack, you began to wonder what was going on. From what you could tell he was indeed upset, but he had yet to make a move towards you. Usually when these things happened he'd just storm right in and pounce immediately. You wondered why he was acting differently today.

"Good news, (Y/n)." You sincerely doubted whatever he was going to announce would be good news. "I've decided to put you to use. I got thinking, and realized that you'd be a lot more efficient helping out with my other workers, so I'm going to let you out. Now, I do hope you'll behave," the threat was evident in his voice, "or else I may change my mind about your placement."

He began to undo the restraints he had put on your hands and legs, obviously not concerned about you fighting back or running. Even in a more healthy state you wouldn't pose much a threat, and you wouldn't have been able to get far. He knew that he was in control. You hated it.

As soon as you were free of the ropes that had inflicted the burns on your skin from your constant tugging, you were immediately nudged (none too gently) by Catto. He obviously wasn't a patient man. Without pausing to rub your burns in the hopes of alleviating the pain like you wanted to, you struggled to rise to your feet. You refused to ask for help. It took a couple of tries before you managed to stay upright, albeit slightly wobbly.

Catto shoved your shoulder forward, almost toppling you over. You caught yourself and sent a glare in his direction. You doubted you were menacing at all.

Stepping out into the hallway felt like staring directly into the sun. Your eyes were not used to any form of light and started to water. You also sneezed, as though you were really looking into the sun. The sneeze was followed by hacking coughs. You were surprised you didn't taste the iron of your own blood in your mouth after it was over.

Once your coughing fit was done with, Catto handed you off to one of his men - whom he addressed as Troy - to lead you to wherever it was he wanted you. Then Catto walked off, presumably to his office or to deal with some other issue concerning him. You hazarded a glance at Troy, recalling all that you could of his character. He wasn't a major role, but was consistent enough that you could recognize him somewhat.

You didn't take him for much of the talkative type, so you decided to hold your tongue rather than risk pissing him off. He led you through the building silently with you squinting all the while, still struggling with all the exposure to light. Eventually you came to an enclosed area outdoors. Troy pushed you in carelessly and locked the gate behind you.

This time you couldn't keep yourself upright and instead ended up skidding onto the gravel, scraping the heels of your palms and your knees in the process. You hissed at the stinging your newly acquired injuries caused. Being outside during the day was also painful for your eyes, so you kept them screwed shut as you took a moment to even your breathing.

As you slowly regained some composure, you became more aware of your surroundings. With your eyes closed, you were mainly focused on hearing, smell, and touch. Well, your touch was slightly side tracked by your pain, but you could still feel the hard ground beneath you and the warmth of sunlight heating your back. The smell was mostly of sweat, but you weren't quite sure if it was all yours. Granted, you knew that you didn't smell the best at this point, so it was a bit difficult to distinguish if it was just your stench or if there were others mixed in with it.

It was your hearing that was most telling. You could just make out several hushed voices and what was possibly the shuffling of feet. It sounded like there was an argument taking place. You didn't know what it was about, but you had an inkling that it may have had something to do with you suddenly being thrown in here.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before you heard the crunching sound of footsteps approaching you. Deciding you had spent enough time recovering on the ground, you cracked one eyelid open and lifted your cheek off of the floor.

It was still far too bright outside. You groaned but forced your other eye to open as well. Now you could see the silhouette of the person who was coming over to you. You still couldn't make many features, but it appeared to be a man.

"Hey there, are you okay?"

You wanted to roll your eyes and respond with a sarcastic quip, but refrained from doing so. Instead you focused on what kind of accent he had. It definitely was not American. After a moment you made your mind up that it must have been Irish. Then that made you try to remember if there had been any Irish characters in the game.

Your silent musings were interrupted by a warm hand being placed on your forehead. Your eyes struggled for a moment before finally managing to focus on the concerned face hovering over you that belonged to the man kneeling by your side.

Huh. He had green hair. That was pretty cool.

"Did you hear me?" Yes, that was most definitely an Irish accent. How fitting that he had green hair. Cracking a wry grin, you offered the man a thumbs-up gesture with one hand. "You don't seem to have a fever or anything," he observed, removing his palm from your forehead. "Can you stand?"

You nodded to the best of your ability and strained your limbs to lift you from the ground. Your arms shook from the effort and you cursed under your breath. It was a lot harder the second time around. When you glanced up, the Irishman was wordlessly offering you a hand to help pull you up. You accepted it, giving him a small smile in return.

Once up on your feet, you let go of his hand. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said, waving aside your gratitude. "What happened to you, anyway? You look like hell - no offence."

You grimaced. "It's a long story."

The man nodded in understanding. "Well, I'd be glad to listen to it later. You look like you've been through a lot. Here, I'll introduce you to the others." He started to lead you over to where you now saw a small group was gathered, all watching the situation play out earnestly. "I'm Jack, by the way."
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