Operation 007 (SpyxFamily)

Ch. 26: Part Three

 Damian was too wrecked with nerves to be frustrated with Forger anymore. Too exhausted, too scared. After the first ten minutes it had melted away and was absorbed into intrusive thoughts of horrifying images and frightening ideas. Of how the director would deal with them. Of what kind of experiments were conducted here and if they would happen to him.

There was still a part of him that resented her just a little bit for not telling him. A passive begrudging that she didn't alleviate his fears. It had also crossed his mind that maybe it was worse than anything he could imagine and that's why she didn't say.

He peeked over at her where she'd taken to sitting in the corner to bury her face in her knees and hold her ankles.

His irritation melted all over again and it was annoying. His reluctant understanding of her situation crept in again and he wanted to bat it away. But every time he was mad, he felt bad for being mad. He hated that each time he looked at her, was a reminder that she knew what would happen because she had already experienced it and there was good reason she didn't want to talk about it.

His justification would feel flimsy and he had to build it up again.

Damian let go of his legs to study his hands and they still shook. He held his face in them and planted them on his knees.

Who was he kidding? He couldn't really be angry with her. He wanted to be, he wanted to blame her, he would rather be angry than fall apart. But she was only trying to cope and he didn't know what to do with that. Where did that leave him? Forger was a mess and had no answers for him, he was locked in an underground room waiting for who knew what, and Damian felt alone, fumbling blindly through nightmares and horror stories, the emotions that dug in his chest, confusing and frustrating. How did he do this on his own? How was he supposed to feel? Why couldn't he just be angry? Why did it have to make him feel bad? When it was gone, he felt helpless, which was worse, and that made him angry again. This was so freaking infuriating! What the heck did he do?! What did he do, what did he do, what did he do? He wanted to go home. He wanted his mother. He wanted his father to fix this.

His hands came wet away from his face and he aggressively wiped at his cheeks. Forger was watching him uneasily and Damian's gaze caught on her's. She broke it off as if she'd done something wrong and her hands searched awkwardly for a purpose. She seemed distressed, debating something he couldn't discern and he watched when she finally got up and came to sit next to him. She opened her mouth. Closed it. "There was a tracker on Anya's arm." She disclosed and Damian blinked.

"What?"

She glanced at him as if he might get angry with her and repeated it.

"What's that?" He asked.

"It's—um. . .so people can find us. . .She mumbled into her legs.

"Wait, what? Really?" Damian said breathlessly. "Are the police coming for us?" Damian was too hinged on the idea of hope to be mad she kept this from him the whole time. But she shook her head and it dropped like a hot potato in his hands.

"What do you mean they're not coming? Who's coming? Someone's coming right? Isn't that why you had it?" Damian rushed out and she nodded.

"Who?"

She wouldn't say.

Damian wasn't entirely surprised and slumped against the wall. If it wasn't the police, who was coming for them? The Blackbells? Did they manufacture tracking devices?

There was suddenly a piece of comfort in the back of his mind, a bit of assurance to hold onto until they were rescued, to get him through this. He grasped it tightly like a child afraid of the dark holding their most precious toy, their most comforting companion while they slept. The morning would come, it wouldn't be dark forever.