Chapter Text
Some people were just born with tragedy in their blood. You were one of them. Waking up cold wasn’t unfamiliar, but the metallic scream of hinges and the hard, urgent cadence of foreign footsteps were. You lived in a cage inside of a room, like a feral animal, something unimportant. Your eyes snapped toward the gap where the light bled under the door, as if it might explain what kind of nightmare was awaiting you this time. Not that it mattered, you lived in anticipation long enough to know that the sound of a door opening meant only one thing: someone was coming to decide what you were allowed to be for the day.
This time felt different, though. The light wasn’t constant like the lab usually was; it flashed, continually interrupted by the silhouettes of people you didn’t recognize. When the alarms blared, your hands instinctively reached up to cover your ears, but the chains that hugged your wrists stopped you from doing so. The room shook with distant impacts—alarms that argued, overlapped, and panicked. You shoved your head into your knees and didn’t lift it when the footsteps got closer, or when the voices felt so loud you could have reached out and grabbed them. You let the noise wash over you without giving it your attention, because attention had always been something they stole from you.
It was when you heard the rattle of keys that you raised your head.
Metal clanged. A latch gave with the sound of bone breaking. The door swung open, and light spilled through the bars. Your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden change in illumination, and for one bright second you thought you’d open your eyes to the cruelty and accustomed pain that someone would hurt you for your own good. Instead, you were met with silence. Four men stood in front of your cell, quiet and unmoving, as if you’d ripped their voices out of their bodies and left only the shapes of them behind.
Some of them wore masks, while others didn’t, but all of them watched you the same way: not like a problem to be solved, but a situation that couldn’t and wouldn’t go wrong. Your core still tightened. Even if the hands were different, even if the uniforms had changed, the rule was the same. When your door opened, it meant you were going to be tested and probed, used and tortured.
Your breath calmed, and the room chilled. You kept your face blank, like blankness could pass for obedience. You’d been trained to obey and perform, and unknown faces wouldn’t change that. You feared the consequences.
The older-looking man with facial hair and soft blue eyes stepped toward you first, slow enough that it felt deliberate. He didn’t look like a scientist. His eyes weren’t rough, they were curious. He stared at the chains you wore like bracelets.
“Hello,” he said softly. “We’re going to help you with all this, okay?”
You flinched at his words, which caused him to stop his walk toward you. After a breath, when you didn’t move nor speak, he continued toward you, unbuckling a device from his belt. He was close enough now for you to see the blood painted on his uniform and smell gunfire on his gloves. The device whirred when it touched the locks, and your wrists tingled from the sensation. The metal around you cracked and your eyes snapped open.
You felt a chill through your veins before you braced yourself for hands that would grab you and tie you to a chair, poke needles in your arms, and hurt you. Instead, your wrists were freed with a click that almost sounded polite. The room didn’t get warmer, but something inside you did.
He motioned for you to stand, and you obeyed, but not fast. Your feet planted against the floor, relearning that gravity was still in your possession. Your bones ached—from lack of nutrients.
A second man, the one who fashioned a mohawk, angled his flashlight away from your face. The gesture was small, but it was also the first act of kindness you’d seen in a long time that didn’t request anything in return.
“Careful now,” the older one said. His voice was low and sturdy, decorated with years of command, but he was careful when he spoke, as if volume could bruise you even more.
You took one step, then another, and another. The men didn’t crowd, they made space like you’d earned it. But the cage that had slipped farther behind you with each step didn’t disappear just because the door had opened. Your shoulders stayed tight and your ears prepared for the next alarm. You were in the middle of them as you walked. Your steps were measured so your body wouldn’t touch theirs, even by accident. When the distant whirr of sirens grew louder, your hands twitched as if still restrained by the metal.
One of the men noticed, but didn’t speak. His mask covered his mouth, after all.
You thought about running, but where would you go? You were smaller, slower, and weaker than these men. So you followed them. You let them guide you because fighting would have been another kind of pain you didn’t want to experience right now.
They led you through the lab, the building that had taken you as a prisoner for the last decade or so. It didn’t bear the usual composure you’d seen when the head scientist took you out. It was chaos: smoke drifting through the air, lights flashing, bodies everywhere. Every sound made you alert, fists tightening at your sides. And somehow, you felt safe. You didn’t feel like you were in danger. If they’d wanted to hurt you, they would have already… right?
At the far end of the corridor, another door awaited. Your eyes followed the steady hands of the masked man as he messed with the panel, working quickly. The lock beeped, and the red light turned green. The heavy door slid open with a hiss, and you were struck by the cold air. You responded by warming up your body, you were only dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. You blessed your ability to regulate temperature. Heat traveled through your body, and your cheeks reddened. None of the men seemed to notice this as you all continued to walk, their eyes were focused straight ahead. Your bare feet scraped against the cement toward the large, black vehicle that stood behind the warehouse.
Your eyes flicked around, darting from corner to corner as if you expected someone to jump out and tell you that this was all a test. The thought made you go cold again, unintentionally, and goosebumps flooded your arms and legs. Your breathing slowed when you took your first official step outside of the warehouse. You felt the men’s eyes on you observing and studying. Maybe they were waiting for you to try to escape.
You didn’t trust them, but your body recognized that you didn’t need to be in survival mode when the people around you weren’t putting you in situations that made you struggle.
“You’re out,” said the older man. “You’re safe.”
His sudden words made you flinch. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do, thank them, cry, or something else. So you did what you were taught to do: follow and watch. You kept following them as they led you to the car. You watched as they let you get in first, letting you claim the passenger seat so you wouldn’t be in too close to any of them.
When the engine roared and the facility shrank in the rearview mirror, you finally let your head rest back. He’d told you that you were safe, but that feeling was foreign. You wouldn’t be able to recognize it, and at that moment, you didn’t know whether that was for better or for worse.