Feed The Evil Within, Ruvik x OC

3 - Reckoning

I can remember the operation table clearly. The door before me pushes a sense of screaming agony on me; one that I can't escape. As if it doesn't want me to open it, like doing so would be wrong, it floods my head with such unpleasant memories that it's hard to breathe; reliving through them is agony.

The first, possibly the most agonizing of them all.

Walking through a dark alley with Ruvik, who now looked phenomenally different, I barely ever left his side. We stuck to the shadows; the fact that Mobius could be watching driving us both to make sure we weren't in the spotlight too long. Soon after our escape, we'd managed to secure an area to stay, but I'd had enough of cops and monsters. It was like our own little paradise; you'd have thought in three years that we'd have done something indecent together, but our relationship was a form of purity. He was gentle. He never did anything without me asking for it. Perhaps that's why our relationship never evolved beyond what happened in the Red Room; because of my fear to ask for something more.

I didn't want to destroy what we had. In my gilded cage, Ruvik was all I had. Something struck me wrong about doing anything with Leslie, as well. Sure, it was Ruvik's mind, but Leslie's body? We're both trapped. One of us, more consensual than the other, but even still, even if Ruvik had said Leslie doesn't suffer, I wanted to make sure I did not contribute to the suffering of someone who had been pushed to the back of his own mind. I know what that felt like; to be pushed aside and forced to be someone else.

Still, Ruvik said that the warehouse that he was entering belonged to Mobius operatives and that I should stay some ways away from it, just for safety. I didn't worry for him; he had picked up some tricks. I should have, however, worried for myself. I waited for him and I would have continued waiting had Mobius not found me. I was removed from the area in seconds; dragged away kicking and screaming until they injected me with something that made me go limp.

What I woke up to was a bigger monster than Ruvik ever has, or will be.

Finally, the door let me pass through; it was like passing through a thin film of gel. Tough to get through, but still, I was able to break through; finally, that agony had subsided. It was replaced with a throbbing pain resonating from my chest. As I collapsed to the ground, my heart seizing up from being put through so much stress that I couldn't breathe. I heard the snap of a shutter and everything seemed to slow down; footsteps echoed as I found myself barely able to move. Whatever this was, it felt strange; almost unbearable. It seemed like the world was tinted blue; moving my head to glance up, it was clear a man was towering over me. I couldn't see his face.

"What's this? You came out of nowhere. I didn't expect to find someone who could make such a lovely piece of art here." His voice made me sick to my stomach. There was something wrong in it, something that screamed, 'run away'. Yet, I had nowhere to go; I was helpless. "That expression. Yes, look this way." Another blinding flash and I winced. "Something is missing. Something big. I cannot make you into the perfect art form like this, but you may be... my future Magnum Opus." The excitement in his voice could not be contained as with a snap of his fingers the suspension I felt faded away; my heart stopped seizing, as well, but I was still in the danger zone.

I struggled to get up, but his knife pressed to my throat. "No sudden movements now. I hate it when they move." He seemed to observe the wound on my neck; glancing over the fact that I hadn't made a single sound, a strangely excited laugh came from the lips of the stranger who threatened life or death. "Perfect! A mute! That's one annoying critic out of the way; yes, I can see it now. My future Magnum Opus, I will make you perfect, prepare you for the legendary art piece you can become." Fear once more rushed through my veins, but he only laughed at my terrified expression.

"Ssh, you'll be fine. Almost forgot," He stifled a small laugh as he referred to the state of my vocal cords, "You can't speak anyways. But still, ssh, ssh, ssh. You're going to become something of great value; you're going to become a masterpiece." The chills running down my spine felt as if they were slicing open my flesh; it was a sick, disgusting feeling. What was this man going to do to me? Where was Ruvik? I turned my head back to the door I came from, but there was nothing there. I would have screamed when he touched me had I any ability to do so; but no, I was trapped in this hell, alone, without any way to voice my pain.

The man in the suit picked me up, his arms going underneath my knees while his other hand supported my back; it was clear he did not trust me to walk on my own. "Fear not, little bluebird, I will take such good care of you." Something about the way he was looking at me made me think there was a little more to it than just talk about becoming a masterpiece; but more importantly, I needed to find out what becoming a masterpiece meant. I needed to find Ruvik.

Still, even a single movement in his arms made the man glare in a way that I knew if I continued struggling I'd find myself in an unpleasant situation. I halted all movement, fearing death more than life at this moment; a wave of nausea hit me and I felt like vomiting, but I knew better. Holding as still as possible all I could do was take these emotions and shove them deep into my core, burying them further than I could retrieve them from. But the second memory came to haunt me, like the atmosphere was forcing me to relive these unpleasant thoughts.

I recalled the operating table. Cold, metallic. Not a very friendly or comfortable way to wake up. But most of all, I remember his voice. His gentle touch, sickening me to my core. These men were different than Ruvik. They looked at me a different way; a way I feared. Even with a single touch from either I felt violated beyond repair. But still, waking to find that I could not speak a single word, make even a small sound; that was fear. For once upon a time, my family had given me a much more temporary punishment; I had been so glad that my voice came back.

But with this, it was gone forever. This was my punishment. This was my husband's way of telling me that I had gone too far. My disobedience landed me in a bind he was sure I could never escape from; I had become a test subject for the second STEM. My memories would not be erased, but here, he could watch over me. He was sure I could not escape; here, I was stuck under his thumb, right where he wanted me.

Where I could be observed and stored away.

But still, that still raised multiple questions; who was this man? What had he done to me? And more importantly, how long had I been separated from Ruvik?