Murder Yours Truly

"Trained"

We were trained. Us "on-sight officers"... People who wanted to work in facilities and places that didn't run off of WIFI. Even those guys had to go through at least the basics. "It's for your own safety." They taught us how to escape when you're tied up in several different ways, how to negotiate with your tormentor, and C.E.S. Calm, Escape, Survive. You're supposed to keep a level head in all situations that didn't make freaking out your only, and last option. Then you're supposed to escape. Whether that be restrictions you had on your body (rope, chains, ect...) or a crazy rapist, chasing you down a long alley way. And finally, we were taught how to "survive".

    The first thing I'm supposed to do in a captive situation is get my bearings. There's a few ways of knowing where you are, learn where the sun sets so you understand where north is... listen for water near by, try to find some sort of forest or buildings on the horizon.. if you're inside constantly without a source of natural light, it's harder. You're supposed to freak out or gain the trust of your holder so they let you outside. Somehow, I think it'd be better if I didn't do anything like that. The best assumption that I could make right now? I'm probably beneath that mining shaft. How far down am I? And how would I make it back up? We were here before, we looked everywhere! How could we miss... something like this? How did- how could this happen? Right under our noses, thousands of disappearances were going unnoticed. Mine couldn't be like all the others, the department would be suspicious at least. My last report was specific, they knew I was heading here. They'll have to know something.

    There wasn't anything I could do now. I plopped on the couch, the one worn piece of furniture in this room. It felt like he slept on here more than the bed. I glanced at the coffee table in front of the couch, two remotes were placed on it next to hundreds of scuff marks. The bat might be leaned against this a lot.. My fingers trailed over the rough indented wood. ...or maybe he just puts his feet up. I avoided the thought by throwing a more normal idea in my head. Such a cute guy, too... such a pretty person could be like this. This world is so corrupt. I sighed and pushed the "on" button on the T.V. remote like I've done a million times back home, expecting the news to flash on. I was entirely wrong. Instead of a serious anchorwoman, a ten-by-ten box of red-black squares popped on. I squinted, trying to understand what I was looking at. In each square, something moved. It was all separate yet looked the same for every screen. Wait... hairs on the back of my neck stood up, ...those are cameras. The ones in the cells! My eyes opened wide as I fiddled with the remote, trying to switch the channel, turn it back off, anything just to make it stop. Nearly standing, I avoided looking at the bloodshed that I couldn't do anything about.

    I dropped the remote in my efforts and something changed with the screen. It was now showing a cool blue menu with games to choose from. Sitting back on the couch, I held my head between my knees. I feel nauseous. I caught my breath as my hands shook uncontrollably.

I just want to go home.