Tightrope; A New Romance

Chapter 21- Captured

The air hit me all at once, hurling itself into my lungs.

My breaths returned as choked, unsteady inhales but they were breaths nevertheless.

Against all the seemingly obvious odds; I was alive.

It took me several moments to gather my scattered thoughts and take in my surroundings.

In front of me, was black. Just black. No wait, a wall. A dark brick wall. A wall with a lighter shade of grey cement at one end with a handle and a small, barred gap at the top for a person to look through. A door, yes, a door. Didn't prisons have those kind of doors ? All I could see out of it was another brick wall what I imagined to be a few metres away, with long rectangular lights strapped to the ceiling providing dim lighting into the room.

The cell, I should say.

Below my feet was the same black, a floor that was hard against my feet, a firm concrete that I could barely see.

Where the hell was I? Who put me here?

A pipe travelled from the door to the other side of the small room. A continuous
loud "whoosh" emitted from the pipe, almost reminding me of a vacuum cleaner, but putting out air instead of taking it in. Maybe that's exactly what it was doing. Feeding me air- oxygen to keep me conscious and more importantly, alive. I welcomed it, breathing in what it offered, putting my lungs at ease.

My hands were strangely raised above my head, restricted by some force- a cool metal entwined around my wrists and into the wall. They wouldn't return to my side no matter how much I struggled, though it was a poor effort due to my lack of energy which I had not yet regained. My back ached against the wall, my position less than comfortable.

I knew I was in trouble. They'd found us.

I remembered the gas. They'd had us, the gas would've killed us both. Why were they keeping us alive?

Us.

Erik! Where was Erik? I remembered rolling him out the window when he was unconscious. I prayed I hadn't been too late.

The thought filled me with dread and anxiety. I needed to find him.

I had full range of my feet and legs but my arms wouldn't budge- the metal's grip was too tight.

There was nothing I could do physically, so I yelled with the loudest voice I could conjure.

"Erik!"

It echoed off the walls, singing the name back to me but there was no reply.
I repeated it over and over again but each time no answer came.

A panic became me and my struggles turned more desperate, needing to be released from the restraints.

Then there were heavy footsteps. Coming from outside the door loud and clear.

A face appeared at the metal bars, young and blonde, seemingly familiar. "Shut up." He spoke sternly, not that I'd listen to him.

"Where is he?" I spat through gritted teeth.

"He's contained." His voice made me want to cringe just as much as the words he spoke.

Desperation clawed at my insides. "Tell me!" I screeched.

He only smirked, enjoying the amusement I was apparently supplying him. It made me want to smack him in that smug face. Hard.

Only then, when he moved his face closer to the metal bars did I recognise his features. Only this time he didn't have his distinctive clothing on.

Red Shirt.

The guy I'd fought when Erik and I had fled the Institution.

"There's nothing you can do about it, sweetheart." The way he said it sent shivers down my sore back.

"You've already helped enough."

My eyes widened. What did he mean?

"What?" I questioned.

He smiled at my confusion. "You'll see soon enough."

He was not leaving me like that. "Where is he?!" This time I demanded it, a fire burning in the back of my throat, a fierce anger erupting from it. An anger that I knew now was not entirely my own.

"Temper, temper." He smiled and I wanted to smack it right off his face, but then he left, and I resisted the urge to scream after him.

Panic flooded my body, my legs hitting the wall behind me hard as I thrashed around. I needed to find Erik immediately. But I couldn't. It was a waiting game.

My wrists started to sting from my struggling but I couldn't help myself, even though it was undoubtedly useless.

My breathes became more steady as the oxygen satisfied my needs even though every part of me still ached. I wondered if my ability to heal would help this, sooner rather than later I hoped.

I shivered. It was freezing here, my jeans and T-shirt not doing anything to help keep me warm. I didn't have the freedom to wrap my arms around my body. This sucked.

Where even was I ? Where were they holding us ? Did they have Adrian, Kade and the others here as well ? Unanswerable questions that I had no means of getting answers to.

Or did I ?

With the biggest voice I could possibly gather, I yelled out into the room again. "Erik!!" I'd hoped he'd hear me, but his ears weren't the only ones I was trying to reach.

"Erik!" I screamed again.

I needed someone's attention. Anyone's.

I repeated the name over and over until the gut wrenching sound of several heavy footsteps could be heard.

I heard voices before I could see faces.

"I thought you said you shut her up." whispered a harsh voice, almost familiar. It was strange, they whispered as if they didn't want me to hear, maybe they didn't think I could.

"She wo-" Red Shirt.

"It's not that hard, Jeb." The voice was increasingly recognisable, even though I still couldn't pinpoint it. Voices filled my head all the time now to a point where everything sounded the same, "Scarlett you must do this, you must do that, you're only use is this." All the same.

"She wasn't supposed to be awake yet." Jeb said and the footsteps stopped on the stairs.

"Don't underestimate her. She's a tough kid."

No.

No.

I knew who he was even though I wanted so badly to believe it wasn't so. But the voice became clear to me and I couldn't deny it.

It couldn't be him. He wouldn't...

His face appeared through the bars and a nausea filled my stomach and my body threatened to collapse, even though it couldn't. I turned away, I refused to look him in the eye.

"Hey kid." He spoke in a normal tone, like I wasn't chained to a wall.

I couldn't maintain my integral wishes. My eyes, partly curtained by black hair strands, lifted to look at him.

"Logan."