James peeled open his eyes. His head throbbed, his body ached. His mouth was sticky, his throat dry. He turned his head, looking for water. A large jug glistening with condensation sat on the locker by his bed. A jewelled water droplet ran down its curved body, joining the water ring forming at its base.
James sat up. The bed was old. Its springs groaned beneath his weight as he reached forward to pour a cool glace of water from the jug.
"Good morning, James," a voice exhaled as the iced water began to slosh into the glass.
James jerked his hand in surprise, spilling water over the old side table and cursing beneath his breath. He had thought he was alone, but thirst had distracted him. He thumped the jug back onto the locker and met the gaze of a blonde haired boy with electric blue eyes, a turned-up nose and an unreadable expression. He was sitting in an old armchair, his legs crossed and a tattered book discarded on the frayed arm of the chair.
James stared at him for a long moment, too surprised to find the courage to speak. He wondered how long he had been waiting there, waiting for him to wake up.
"Do you know me?" the boy asked finally, his electric blue eyes darting this way and that, taking in every flicker of emotion that passed across James' face.
"No," James muttered, glancing away under the boy's scrutiny.
If the boy was concerned or surprised by this answer, he didn't show it. His expression was unforthcoming. It was careful and measured, betraying none of the boy's thoughts.
"What do you remember about your alterations?" he asked in a soft voice.
"My what?"
"Your powers – how you moved the stones and the ground when you arrived here," the boy continued.
"I – I don't know how I did that... I mean I've never done anything like that before," he whispered. He could feel the heat in his cheeks.
"Really?" the boy nodded, noting what he said in a polite way as if he was not really interested.
"Listen, I don't know what you think you're at here but..."
The boy held up his hand and cut James off mid-sentence. There was a calm, efficiency about him that James couldn't help but admire.
"James, we are here to help you. It was our aim to rescue you from where they were keeping you, but by the time we had arrived they had abandoned you either to death or for us to find you. I suspect the latter given hindsight. They wanted us to see what they had done to you".
"And what did they do to me?" James breathed.
"Surely you can figure that out?" the boy asked, lifting an eyebrow, his expression remaining humourless.
James clenched and unclenched his jaw, before turning and finishing to pour his glass of water. He didn't know what the boy wanted. He knew well enough what they had done to him. He could still see it clearly in his mind. He didn't need to leave his thoughts to wander far to relive what they had done to him. He doubted that would ever go away.
"How did you end up imprisoned?" the boy asked when James' silence had stretched on.
"I... I don't know, I just was imprisoned. I don't remember how I got there. I don't remember..." he trailed off. He didn't remember anything before the prison. His life was the prison and nothing more.
"And do you remember any faces from your time in prison?"
James exhaled. "Some... maybe, but they're not strong. My memories of the prison aren't always clear. I just remember time didn't exist and pain did. Everything was pain – careful and considered, it cut through the drugs they gave us," he breathed.
YOU ARE READING
Feared
Science Fiction'Play the game, she thought, remembering the only three words that had helped her to survive at Kingston. Only back then she had known the game, she had known what they wanted her to be, what they had wanted her to do - this man was different. She d...
