Broken Silence

“Let’s start with you. What all have you told the police?” Dominic asks in a fake, nice voice as he settles his large bulk into the chair. I blink at him in answer. “Oh yeah, I forgot you were the mute,” he says with a pointed look to the guard behind me. Clearly he realizes the gun to the throat three years ago didn’t do me any favors in regards to talking.

In this moment, as I'm staring my captors down, I realize how thankful I am for the damage. Not speaking for three straight years, minus one yell and a few words to Cole in desperation, will help me not to crack and tell these evil men anything. It's not like I'd just get to go home if I did, anyway.

“Well, it honestly doesn’t matter. The FBI has started questioning the main facility. I can only assume that is thanks to you. Though they won’t find anything more than they have. We are careful, and we are immense. This is only one of our locations, and they have no chance of finding you.” His thin lips curl into a malicious smile and I can tell every man in this facility was handpicked for this attribute. That and their distinct lack of morals.

As he lobs that accusation and information at me, I just blink at him, keeping my face blank. For once, I embrace the numbness like an old friend, wrapping me in the warmth of its embrace. Emotionless is the only way I'll survive this, and I know it. There will be pain and likely torture in my future if those screams were a sign of the way life is here. These people don't play around, and now I'm on their shit list, meaning mine may be worse than most.

“This research facility is separated into sections. We are trying to find out exactly how far we can push the human body and how our medications can play a role in that. It goes beyond researching the slight improvement of cell regeneration for diseases. We are finding what drugs can rapidly increase muscle development, increase healing, perfecting vision. Pretty much anything we want to improve on the human body, we research it here. Do you have any idea the amount of money someone would pay for this?”

“A whole fucking lot,” one of the guards says, earning a glare from the dump truck of a boss across from us.

“Yes. The pharmaceuticals are simply a means to an end and a fantastic cover, don't you think? We have found quite a few advances down here... with the help of our volunteers of course,” he says, gesturing to me at the word voluntee

r like it’s some big prize. I blink at him again, giving nothing away, and he narrows his eyes. I’m assuming this man is used to the people he lures here or kidnaps, screaming and freaking out. I guess he shouldn’t have chosen someone who already lived through the lowest layers of hell and survived.

“Fine. You will be joining our rapid healing research team. You will be granted a shower with sterile soap and clean clothes before being allowed to enter the labs. You can throw away the clothes you are wearing in the shower room since you won’t be needing them here. Don’t get any ideas. If you take too long or you refuse to cooperate, then I will allow these men to join you in that restroom. And they aren’t afraid to break your spirit before we break your body. Are we clear?” he asks in that fake nice voice again that goes right to my head.

Refusing to look into that statement, I nod with my blank mask in place. I'm internally praying that this restroom is still on this level near an entrance, so I can get some semblance of a signal. The guards each grab me by an arm, so they can force me to stand and walk me to the shower room. It’s directly across from the conference room and inside I feel that spark of hope reignite. They both shove me at the same time, so I fall into the room as they close and lock it behind me.

The room is about the size of two cells. It has a shower that's wide open, without a curtain. A table on the opposite wall holds a set of white scrubs, underwear, a white tank top, and a hair tie. The bottle of antiseptic soap is also there, along with a rough white towel. I quickly tear off my shirt and pull out my cell phone, thankful that my chest is large enough to hide any bulk from my thin device. I dial Sophia’s number and hit call. It takes seven frustrating tries before the call actually goes through.

“Charlie?! Is that you?” Sophia screams into the phone. I quickly turn down the volume and turn on the shower head to hide the noise.

“Sophia, please send help. I will keep the call going, get someone to track my phone or trace the call. I’m going to find a way to tuck it away somewhere as long as the signal doesn’t drop. This place is bad, they are testing on people. My number is 634 if that tells you anything. I’m so scared.” My voice is raspy and borderline hysterical, her voice nearly my undoing. But I manage to get all of the words out before coughing, fighting through the pain it causes. I'm full on sobbing by the end of it. “I have to go, Sophia, or they will come in here and find out I’m calling for help or hurt me. If you don’t find me, I love you, thank you for fighting for me.”

“Stop it, Charlie. I will find you. Be discreet and be strong. I will handle the tracking, I’m at the station with the agents now. They are already tracing. I love you too, honey,” she says, her voice breaking at the words. She's clearly crying as well. Being stuck there and unable to do anything is likely killing her slowly.

Desperation claws at me as I look around for a place to hide the cell phone. Noticing only one spot to use, I take the hair tie that's in my hair and break the elastic. I use it to tie my cell to the underside of the sink’s pipes, directly under the basin. It takes me a few tries to get it secure enough not to fall off. If someone comes in to properly clean, they'll find it, but hopefully that will still give the agents enough time to find me. I crawl underneath and double check, relieved to see the signal still going before I turn the water all the way down.

I jump in the shower and scrub with the awful smelling antiseptic soap as quickly as possible. It’s easily the fastest shower of my life but I'm not giving the guards any reason to come after me. I quickly dry off and get dressed in the scrubs, tossing my clothes in the wastebasket in the corner and braiding my hair. I double check that my phone is still secure and see that the call is still going.

After a few deep breaths I let the numbness overtake me before walking to the door and knocking softly. The guard opens it and gives me an evil smile before securing my hands in a zip tie. I let my mind float back into the darkness before I can panic.

I’m led back the way we came from and through a maze of halls, and with every step a rough hand squeezes tighter. Instead of throwing me back into a room, they stop in front of a staircase leading down. I fight a wave of nausea at the thought of how much space these psychopaths have to torture us in.

God, I hope I have the strength to get through this.

At this rate, I know I'll be lucky to survive with my sanity, I just hope I can survive with my life.

Unknown

Unknown

Charlie

Pain grips at my arms and legs, the straps binding me to this chair way too tight, my fingers and toes already tingling. Trying to stay calm, I look around the lab I'm currently stuck in. I can’t name half of the equipment or explain what their purpose is, but from the dark red stains on the floor I can guess it’s nothing good.

Getting here wasn’t easy. My instincts had kicked in when I saw the room and I’d tried to fight back. So now I'm also sporting some crazy bruising. I'm no match for the two huge beasts, unfortunately. My heart stops as I hear the door slide open.

“Now the fun can begin,” the same scientist from earlier announces as he walks up to the equipment surrounding me. I notice that the name Timmins is embroidered on the pocket of his white lab coat.

Once he's done with the lab equipment he heads over to a cart and rolls it closer to me. My stomach drops as I notice the needles and IV tubing that awaits me. I start to thrash against the arm restraints. No fucking way am I letting this insane person stick needles in me. I'm rewarded with a swift smack to my face and a satisfied look on his.

“You deserved that for your little stunt earlier. Now quit thrashing or I promise I will stick you over and over until I get it right.” I respond to his threat with a visible eye roll and more thrashing. He ignores me as he prepares the IV line. True to his word, he grips my arm with one hand while I flail around and uses the other to attempt to hit the vein. I ignore the awful pain and refuse to back down. Panic and adrenaline have me feeling so high that I don’t give a single fuck about anything but not getting this IV. I know that I'm probably making this worse on myself, but the fact they will pump experimental drugs into my system is motivating me to fight. I have a feeling the moment I give up and let it happen is the moment I truly lose.

Detective Flynn

Twenty Minutes Post Kidnapping