Pretty Lies (Bellamy Blake Fanfic)

The 48

The word around me is filled with utter, complete emptiness. The same familiar faces flash through my mind on repeat, each one ripping through me accompanied with a tidal wave of pain, until all at once, everything goes numb. The fading image of a smiling Tom flickers through my mind once more before I feel my body begin to sputter into life once more.

The once familiar clicks and whirs of machinery fill my ears as I slowly open my heavy eyes. My eyes begin to burn as the bright light of my surroundings temporarily blinding me. ]

Once I regain my bearings, I realize that the bright light was only the coloring of my room; a bright, maddening, white. I stand abruptly from the scratchy bed I was on, my legs shaky from their lack of use. I look around me frantically, and I begin to move forward towards a door I spot at the end of the room, only to be held back by a pain in my arm. I look down to see a needle imbedded into my skin, and I don't think twice before ripping it out. As I look down, I realize I'm clothed in the same shade of white as the room, meaning whoever took me here also saw me nude. I'm going to kill them. I decide, clenching my jaw.

I stalk towards the door, the small barred window my only view to the outside. I jiggle the door handle, only to find it unsurprisingly locked. I beat my hands against the door, trying desperately for someone to come help,

"WHOEVER THE COCKY BASTARD WHO PUT ME IN HERE IS, YOUR FUCKING DEAD UNLESS YOU GET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!" I shout into the annoyingly silent room. Upon hearing no other answer, I take another look at my surroundings, taking note of the small toilet and bed in the corner, along with the painting hanging on the wall.

The painting seems to be the only source of color in the room, its depiction of green, grassy hills and peacefulness looking like its from another lifetime. I swallow the growing pressure of panic in my throat before ripping the thing off the wall, breaking one of the borders to use as a makeshift weapon, the only one I'd be able to find in the room no doubt.

I pace around the small room, my mind racing. I try to pull my brain back to the moments after the battle, to no avail, the last thing I remember was crouching in front of.... in front of his body. The memory causes me to look around frantically for the small engraved chain, despair beginning to fill my senses.

I spot a camera hanging low on the ceiling, the red light staring at me unblinkingly,

"I WANT MY CHAIN BACK YOU PRICKS! Let me out of here!" I shout towards the now unfamiliar piece of technology, and again when there's no reply, I sit on the edge of the scratchy gurney, the small piece of wood clenched tightly in my hands.

My mind races, going over any possibility that may get me out of here, but every option involves hurting myself to the extent of not being  capable of escaping, so my only option is to sit and fester in all the raging emotions mixed around my stomach.

I sit on the edge of the makeshift bed for what seems like days, before movement outside my door causes me to erupt to my feet. My knuckles turn white against the surface of the wood in my hand, and I clench my teeth as I quickly make my way to the door. I look out to see four men clad brown vests standing outside, the one in the front motioning for me to step back away from the door. I shake my head, my ears ringing.

I take note of the black rifles in their hands, and my small twig seems considerably idiotic and useless. The man continues to motion for me to move back, even going as far as to raise his rifle, when someone behind him puts a hand on his arm and the rifle falls.

I tense as the other stranger steps forward, revealing a greying old man in an expensive blue suit that would have been a prized possession on the Ark.

I watch in anticipation as the door slowly creaks open, and the four men file into the room, all of them surrounding me. The old man enters last, looking me up and down in interest,