100-Word Challenge, Day 215-219

S-21 prisoner
S-21 prisoner (Photo credit: thebrettburton)

“Not a prisoner, as such,” said the voice. “We would rather you thought of yourself as a guest.”

“A guest is allowed to leave whenever they would like,” Evan said. “I get the impression that is not exactly an option for me.”

“You are correct, but you are still a guest.” The voice stopped and Evan heard muffled sounds in its place, as if someone held a hand over the microphone and continued to talk. “Right now you need to rest. You’ve been through quite a bit and it will take some time for you to recover your strength. We will bring some food and water soon, but do not expect much.”

“I won’t.”

“Good,” the voice said. Even through the static and electronic distortion the voice sounded relieved at Evan’s compliance. “Get some sleep and we will talk in the morning.”

An audible click over the speakers announced the voice’s departure from the conversation, but Evan doubted that whoever it was had actually left. He knew that if he were the paranoid, scientist kidnapping, lunatic that he would have hidden cameras in the room and someone keeping an eye on their, “guest.”

Evan lay still upon his mat and breathed slowly. The room stank of sweat and filth, which was still better than his last apartment, but there was something else in the air that he could not quite put his finger upon. It was a familiar smell, and not altogether unpleasant, but something in his mind stirred at it and set his nerves on end. “What is it?” he whispered. The hiss of steam escaping from a pipe caught his attention and Evan turned to face it, but there was no steam and there was no pipe.

The noise shifted about the room at random, never staying in one place long enough for Evan to pin its location down, but it always sounded as if it were just around the corner of a wall he could not see. The echoes of the sound bounced off of the slick white walls of Evan’s room and threatened to drive him mad. He was a moment away from screaming when the noise stopped and the door on the far side of the room opened.

A tray of food and a battered bottle of recycled water was pushed through the opening and slid along the floor. The door hung open and the tray still, but there was nothing more. “Hello?” Evan whispered. The silence was worse than the hissing. He knew there was someone there. He could feel them, almost smell them, but they said nothing. “Please. I won’t hurt you.” He reached a hand toward the door and motioned with his fingers for his visitor to enter. “I don’t think I can make it to the tray. Can you bring it to me?” Evan held his breath, afraid that any movement might spoil his chance to see one of his captors. The seconds ticked by in his head and he began to lose hope, until the door moved, opening a little wider, and someone stepped in.


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