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Alisa opened her eyes to total darkness.
She fought off the panic that threatened to seize her, one horrible thought evident in her mind: they knew. She felt crippled, scared, lonely. Her hands, tied to whatever she was lying on, were like two useless lumps of burnt lead. They seemed to weigh her down, but she knew the only thing that truly weighed her down was the terribly distorted fear in her head, a fear of what would happen if she dared to venture even two feet ahead in the dark.
The hated dark.
Alisa willed herself to think. She had an IQ of a hundred and forty. She always relied on her mind to get herself out of sticky situations, but this time...she couldn't. In the dark, she was always a weak girl of five again, staring into the inky void, waiting for her mother to unlock the cupboard door and save her from the shadowy monsters inside the closet, tears trickling down her face as they stained her chin with their liquid transparence.
This time, though, she would not cry. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
She forced herself to focus on her surroundings. Although her hearing was a blur of roaring despair and her sight was rendered practically useless, the rest of her senses were as acute as ever. Cold pricked her skin, sweat long frozen away, her lashes were still wet. Alisa could no longer feel her t-shirt and jeans---nor the comforting strap of her grandfather's prized watch, passed down from generation to generation, on her left wrist.
Alisa's heart went into overdrive, hammering out of her chest in a single beat.
She blinked back her tears. The family heirloom would have to be located later on, when she was out of whatever restraints held her down. She recognised the material chafing her limbs as rough leather, scraping away her skin in layers every time she tried to move. Her body was clad in some sort of thin gown, but she felt more exposed than if she had been naked. Her hair had been flattened against her head, a crudely-tied braid digging into her neck.
The sharp, acrid smell of blood hung heavy in the air.
She wasn't gagged. Alisa opened her mouth, her tongue heavy and swollen. "Cheng Xin?" she called, her voice garbled and strange to her own ears. "Jada?" Her words were mangled, destroyed by the utter rawness of her throat and the weight of her tongue.
No boy answered, no dog barked.
Instead, the next thing she heard was his voice. "Nyctophobia is a terrible thing, isn't it, Alisa?"
Nyctophobia, the fear of the dark, the one thing that completely incapacitated her. He knows rang in her mind like a taunt. He knows, he knows, he knows. And he'll use it to bring you to your knees.
"I will never bow down," she spat without thinking, not to herself, not to the man, not to his pack of goons. It was a promise to the mocking voice in her head, vowing to not give in, no matter how much the man tortured her.
"What was that, Alisa?" the man said, his breath hot and rank against her ear. "I didn't quite hear you."
"You drugged me," was all she replied with.
She could practically envision the smirk that would cross his face at her words. "I'm so glad you're awake," he crooned. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up."
"Stop. Release me immediately," she ordered, her voice as steady as she could manage. She knew showing any fear would only feed the man's pleasure; he would delight in torturing her further. But if she remained as confident and stern as ever, perhaps he would get bored with her.
But the dark!
Alisa remained still. Struggling would only ruin her wrists. Screaming would only tear her pride. Showing any weakness would only ensure her death. She could hear the blood roaring in her ears, thrumming in time with the man's footsteps as he circled her, pacing like a leopard stalking a gazelle.
Suddenly, the lights flashed on, just for a moment. Alisa could have cried with happiness at the momentary glimpse of brightness, even if the view was her captor's bald head, looming sneer, and armed guards. Still, she held back, salvaging whatever dignity she had left.
As quickly as they had come, the lights flickered off again. Alisa was plunged back into darkness, nothing but a memory of pale white behind her eyelids. She pressed her lips together, biting her already-swollen tongue to keep from crying out. Somehow, the absence of light was even worse, like she'd been given a quick taste of salvation and instantly had it ripped away from her.
"Won't you scream, Alisa?" His slimy voice was there again, the scent of onions inflaming her senses and making her gag. "I want to hear you scream."
"The government is supposed to help us, not hurt us," Alisa growled, her hands clenching into fists. Her bonds were tight against her voluptuous body, the hold of the darkness on her mind even tighter.
The President's laugh was harsh and grating. "As long as I'm in charge, my word is law."
"Where's my brother? And my dog?" Alisa demanded to know.
When the man spoke next, his voice sounded further away. Alisa could hear him walking away from her as he said, "Cheng Xin is fine. We need him, anyway. As for the mutt, well..." A pause. "You'll just have to wait and find out."
"Don't you dare hurt Jada," Alisa hissed through gritted teeth, her anger almost overriding her fear. She wanted to strangle the man, pull his innards out, and string them over her fireplace back home.
Not that she had a home left to go back to...
"What do you want with us?" she snapped, straining against her bonds despite the logical part of her mind telling her not to move.
Every part of her felt clammy and cold.
"Alisa Lee." He was coming back, shoes clicking on the floor like a funeral march. "You're hopelessly naive if you think I'll tell you that. I owe you nothing. We owe you nothing."
Normally, Alisa was good at keeping her cool, but terror unleashed too much rage in her heart for her to handle. "You owe me a fucking explanation!" she shouted, bottled-up wrath pouring from her mouth with the force of a tsunami. Her words choked off in something mildly resembling a sob. It wasn't smart. It wasn't logical. She wasn't thinking.
She couldn't.
The President didn't reply for a long time. Finally, after an agonising silence, he sighed. "Alisa, I really didn't want to hurt you, but you have a wild streak. That's not good. You must be tamed. You have to learn your place. You see, you're just a pawn in a game. Nothing more. I can do whatever the hell I want with you."
Then she heard it: the sharp chink of scraping metal. The lights illuminated the room with their glare again, and for the first time in her life, she wished they hadn't. Staring down at her was the piercing edge of a scalpel, tightly gripped between the President's thumb and forefinger.
"Maybe you'll scream now, Alisa Lee," he whispered.
Alisa didn't scream; she bit down on her lip so hard it split down the middle. She soiled herself out of utter agony as the President drove the scalpel into her left eye.
