Gauntlet

Part 1: Chapter 4

I jumped from her sudden appearance, before letting out a sigh I tried letting her hear while still trying to mute it. She walked over unperturbed and reached her arm out again.

I've never been a particularly talkative person, usually just listened to others, tried to be as little of an issue to people as possible. This was very new territory to me, and I thought it was weird just how soon I got used to being more stubborn. Maybe it was because I didn't like Corru much. She scared me, but frustration is an emotion that easily dwarfs fear. What if I just spoke my mind a little more?

"You know, I've been here for a while, and I'm getting pretty hungry." The sentence started off a lot more confident than it ended, and I immediately regretted starting it at all. Speaking my mind took a leisurely stroll back to my list of overrated things.

She stood for a moment, doing what I could only assume to be thinking. Then she sprung into action, marched to the door, opened it in her fast and efficient way, and slammed it behind her. So I sat in irritable silence for about fifteen minutes before once again jumping at the door's sudden openness.

She held a box about the width of my shoulders, half as high as it was wide. She placed it on the floor next to the platform, before marching back over to me.

"Have you any other concerns?" she almost forced herself to say. This felt either like a trick question or a joke no one bothered to explain to me.

"Nope, should be good, thanks," I said, a little too quick, a little too unevenly paced. She nodded very slightly before going back to stretching her arm out to me. I'd taken a risk, and it couldn't have payed off worse. I was uncomfortable that she just did what I asked without a single word - if what was in that box was food - and then wanted to know if there was anything else she should do.

"It's unfortunate that you didn't learn much during your time on Earth," she continued, completely herself, disinterested and speaking while staying completely still, "because according to my understanding, someone extending their arm to a person on the ground signifies the ground person to-" and I grabbed her arm, promptly shutting her up. I wanted to demand that she pick me up more gently this time, but as it turns out, fear can dwarf frustration after all.

"I have decided, on my own accord, that I will ease you to your feet from this point forth." Telepathy. She must have telepathy. That changed things a little. "Is there an issue?" A test. This must be a test.

"Can't you already tell what the issue is?" Never have I seen such disbelief in such a non-expressive face.

"I wouldn't ask if I already knew the answer. I may be alien to you, but I can't read your mind."

"But, you just said you were going to pick me up more gently."

"I also very clearly stated that that decision was made on my own accord."

"But I was going to ask you to do that, then you go and say you're going to do what I thought to tell you what to do."

Then she pulled me up, harder than the first time. I was ill-prepared and got back to the floor in record time. "If that helps you get over your paranoia," she said, "then there ya go." Wherever that more casual tone came from didn't bother me, frustration just ran in front of fear again in this mental race they were perfectly content to keep going.

There was her arm again, I grabbed it hard, tried my best attempt at a death stare, lost the staring contest, and sighed. As if waiting for me to get over myself, she chose the moment I sighed to pull me back up, gently. I decided it would probably be more beneficial not to bring attention to it, as fear had taken the lead.

I tried to focus, remembering how it felt to stand. Once I was up, Corru had her arm out in front of my chest in case I fell forward, no precautions in the event that I fell backwards though. Which of course ended up being what happened. I hit the back of my head, causing a random part of the front of my head to start screaming at me in pulses.

My eyes were closed, but I still heard the little whoosh her arm extending out to me caused. I groaned to communicate that I was done, and heard a second whoosh, as if she retracted her arm just to extend it again.

"No," I mumbled. A whoosh told me she retracted her arm again.

"If this is what you can get done in a day, getting you in any shape to start exploring will take a while, but alright," she said, "we shall halt for the time being." She looked through the cracks between the planks making up the wall, and marched off back outside, but didn't slam the door, or close it at all. Instead she came back a second later carrying another wooden box, identical to the first. She set it down next to its twin.

"This box contains syringes. Inject one anywhere, push the button, and you will sleep." Drugs. She gave me a box of drugs. "However," she continued, "if this is all you can do per day, getting you to walk anywhere near confidently will take longer than you might like."

It made sense to me despite still being extremely unsatisfying to hear. The door slammed and she was gone. I crawled slowly back to the platform and hoisted myself up. I could feel the cold metal through my shirt and even my jeans, and my arms were starting to lose feeling. I should have asked her for a blanket or something to lay down on, but alas. I fell back to the splinters, having decided they were more comfortable, and just relaxed a little bit.

I really stank. My beard was a little past stubble at this point. Jeans were becoming increasingly uncomfortable to stay in. My hair was greasy. I was hungry.

Overall I wasn't a big fan of my situation, but couldn't do much about most of those. About the jeans, I considered taking them off for a second, before considering that I should consider better ideas next time. At least there was food in the right side box.

I opened it to find a bunch of neatly packed red cubes about half the size of a Rubik's Cube. They were quite solid and dry, almost feeling like really stale cake, but definitely less fluffy.

I ate one as the result of many pep talks. It was unnaturally tasteless, and melted in my mouth. And somehow I was full after just the first one.

So I'd taken taken care of the only issue I could. A couple minutes passed, and I was extremely bored. I took one look at the box of syringes and decided I could make it a little longer. Which lasted about three more minutes. I opened the box to be met with glass tubes filled with a fluorescent light green liquid, and, more importantly, tipped with a needle.

I could probably entertain myself a little longer.

Four minutes later I was holding the syringe to my upper arm breathing like I was giving birth, and shaking like I had Parkinson's. I counted to three out loud, stabbed the space next to my arm, and kept counting, hoping to actually do it at ten.

I got to ten. My right arm tried to stab the space next to the left one, but my left arm moved to that space, anticipating the attack. I think I screamed. I hadn't realized my breathing had calmed down a little bit until it started back up again.

I had the needle in my arm, I told myself, all I had to do now was push the button. Which was about the easiest part of the process. The liquid began draining and I realized I had to remove the syringe next.

Luckily I lost consciousness before I had to worry too much about that.