Twisted (Akasuna no Sasori)

Chapter Two: Akatsuki? Well, I'm Pretty Much Screwed

Chapter Two: Akatsuki? Well, I’m Pretty Much Screwed

"Nngh..." I awoke with a slow realization, followed by confusion, then completed with a nice dash of intense pain. Yeah, you can feel my sarcasm, right? The back of my head especially hurt, but my whole body felt as though it had been thoroughly trampled by a herd of large mammals. I tried to roll over and get more comfortable, only to find that I couldn’t. Something constricted me, pulling my in the opposite direction when I attempted movement. I looked round to see thick metal cuffs wrapped around my wrists, connected to the plain cement ground by a short, thick chain. I attempted pulling against it (even though it was obvious that it would be futile- but hey, I’m human, and we humans are notorious for doing pointless things), but couldn’t seem to grasp the energy inside me required to do so.

I felt weak, and I didn’t like it.

I scanned the room with a frown, forcing myself to keep awake by digging my fingernails into the sensitive flesh of my ankle. There was a lone bed in the room, pushed to the corner and sheeted in plain white linen. It was carefully made and scrupulous- the white sheets didn’t seem to dare be wrinkled. There was a single, small window on the far wall with white curtains, and a blank white canvas hung on the east member of the whitewashed walls. Whoever lived here either had very bland taste, or was just plain lazy. Had I not been making a note of every characteristic of this room in order to formulate an escape plan, I would have turned my gaze to the dirt-dusted ground in disgust.

                I noticed that, in the room, the only inkling that anybody lived here –other than the bed- was derived from a wide desk, painted- yes, you guessed it- white, in the corner opposite to the bed. It was the kind that had a drawer and a small cupboard underneath it that would store things in, though nothing momentous or of great value. No wardrobe, no chest of drawers, nothing. Just a bed and a desk. I concluded that the person who lived here either didn’t live here very often or had a separate room that he/ she kept his/her things in.

                I immediately stiffened as I heard footsteps draw near to the room (also noting that my sensory capabilities had been blunted, because I could not feel the person’s chakra) and moved to escape, only to remember the shackles and curse silently. The door clicked.

“I’m sorry,” a soft, placid voice came as the white wood door swung open, releasing a whine that seemed somehow melancholy- I decided that the door was just as displeased to be here as I was. “I didn’t realise you were awake- I didn’t mean to keep you waiting this long.”

I just stared at the redheaded man in surprise- so he was apologising for not being here when I woke up? What the hell? What about the fact that he was obviously the one who fucking kidnapped me?! Does that seem okay to him?!

“Who the hell are you?!” I demanded, glaring at him, as though this might evaporate my chains and make my captor spontaneously combust. Neither happened, the man merely tsking me and walking past, sitting cross-legged on the white-sheeted bed. The black cloak he wore stood out in stark contrast to the white covers.

“Now, are you really in a position to be talking like that?” he asked, a musing tone to his voice- he seemed mellow. No, more than that, he seemed amused. “I could just as easily have killed you. In fact, that would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

                I just glared hatefully at him, and he eyed me, a slight smirk creeping to his lips.

                “Nothing to say now, hm?” he murmured, then shrugged gently, “Well, I suppose that’s for the best.”

                “Who are you?” The question burst from my lips before I could stop it. Luckily, I managed to avoid shouting by gritting my teeth, but it still came out sounding unwisely angered. I couldn’t really help it, however- I was tense, antsy, as I always was when I found myself in a hopeless situation. The fact that it would take this man a mere second to end my life, with me unable to do anything to prevent it, didn’t help my attitude, either.