Colorblind

Chapter Nine: Through the Shadows

It was silent. Completely silent, except for the  sobs that she couldn't control. The machine never was turned off, ever. It was always on, always whirring in her ear like a hive of angry bees. Though the silence was unordinary, she's couldn't help the despair that expelled itself from her lungs in cries of agony.
She heard the sound of shoes along the tiled floor, taking cautious steps as they entered the room. Someone was coming to turn back on the machine.

The tears continued to make their way down her cheeks and drop onto the floor beneath her. She tried again to break from the straps that held her prisoner in this metal cocoon, but that only pulled at the stitches along her body and broke open her raw wrists from previous attempts of escape. Her breathing quickened and her cries wrenched her stomach even more at the thought of more stitches, more operations. She was more at ease in the feeling of consciousness, the ability even to cry at the nightmares that riddled her mind every time opiates entered her bloodstream. She wanted to fight, wanted to escape, wanted to escape this prison and run and never look back.

But where would she even run? Where would she go? Her only memory was a horrific monstrosity, nothing to run back to, no one she remembered. Except for bloody THORN. A tear landed on one of her stitches, and burned as it seeped into the sutured gash in her flesh.

Her thoughts and woes were interrupted by a knock on the side of the machine that took her by surprise.

"Hello?" A gentle, deep voice rang out from behind the inch of metal that imprisoned her.

Her heart leaped as her mind raced. She silenced her cries, listening for the voice again. He didn't sound like the cold hearted men who entrapped her in here and bound her with leather. He sounded...kind.

"Hello?" The voice came again.

This might be her only chance to get out. Even if she failed to escape THORN, at least she would get to feel the light on her skin once again.

She reached out to the voice.
"Hello?" she said cautiously, her voice still shaking from the aftermath of her crying.

"How can I get you out? Is there a way to get you out?"

She couldn't believe her ears. She told him about the keycard she had seen one of the scientists hide in the corner cabinet, her beating ever faster as she excited herself at the thought of light, the thought of actual light. It had been so long since she'd seen it. So long.

She heard the mechanical click of the keycard in the swipe slot, and held her breath as the door gradually swung open. She closed her eyes. She wanted to see the world all at once, all in one instance.

She felt the light of the opening door move across her eyelids, and she felt a burden in her soul lighten. She let her eyes fly open.

She was looking upon not a white haired scientist, but into the dark brown eyes of a young man, with tousled, dark hair and an dumbfounded expression on his face.

The boy blinked a couple times, and looked an awful lot like a deer in headlights before he hurried to undo the leather straps on her arms and legs.  She could tell he was a new employee, from how young he was to how calloused his hands were, to the spots wearing out on the knees of his pants from scrubbing floors. She was so grateful, so free. The joy in her heart made her tears spring up in her eyes all over again. But then she was struck with fear. What if someone came in, and put her back in there again? What if her freedom was short lived. The tears in her eyes turned to ones of anxiety and sheer terror. She shook all over at the thought of being inside this cruel cell again.
"They're gonna catch you," she said frightened, "they're gonna put me back, I can't go back! Don't make me go back! I can't!"
He finished unbuckling the last of the straps.
He looked into her eyes, and gave her a calming look," I promise you, no one is putting you back. It's just me here, they won't be back until tomorrow morning. I won't let them hurt you. I promise. You're not going back in there."

She was so overwhelmed by joy, her legs felt weakened and she began to crumble to the floor. The boy caught her and picked her up, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her over to a chair that sat beside the doorway.
"What is your name?" He asked her, gingerly making his way over to the small chair with care as if she was made of glass.

She looked up at him.
"Margaux," she said quietly, "My name is Margaux."