Dearest Captor
As I came to, the first thing I tried to do was stand up. When I realized that I was tied down, a feeling of unrelenting horror came over me. The last time I remember being this scared was my first performance.
My name is Bryce Doyle. I'm an illusionist and I'm actually quite popular for my field of work.
The room I was in was pitch black so I couldn't see a damn thing. The only two senses that I was aware of were sound and feel. I heard the incessant ringing in my ears and I felt my head throbbing. As the annoying buzzing died down and I began to regain my sight, I could see someone walking around and I could hear murmuring.
"Afternoon, Mr. Doyle..."
I never responded.
" I said good afternoon... Mr. Doyle!" my probable captor said impatiently.
I still never responded and my gracious captor grunted and slammed the door, wherever it was, behind him.
I could now clearly hear moans and shrill cries in the far background of my seemingly infinite sized cell. With my eyes adjusting more and more to the inky darkness, I could see that there were no cameras... at least none near me.
Applying a little trick that I learned through a fellow illusionist I flexed my forearms and wrists continuously. Eventually the bonds were loose enough to get one hand through. Then I got the other hand through and started untying the cables around my legs.
I started walking and no more than ten paces later I hit something. In the moment I was too dazed and confused to know exactly what I had so swiftly walked into. A million thoughts ran through my head. Had I just hit a wall? Or did I just walk into the motherfucker who brought me here? I didn't want to think too much about it.
I found my way back up and put my hands against what I had hit. I rapped against it with my knuckles. The eerily resonant noise it made made me certain that it was a glass wall... or at least a window. But why was there no light, I asked myself. By now, I had realized, the moans and cries had grown louder.
I searched the wall for no more than a minute and then I found what seemed to be a switch. I flipped it and what I saw practically knocked what breath was left in me out.
In heaps, there were bodies. Some of them dead, but many of there were... half alive. They all, at one time or another, suffered and I was sure of at least that fact. Which isn't saying much. When the lights turned on all those alive instantly turned their heads toward me. Their skeletal faces hardly resembled anything that could have been at the very least once human. If they even had eyes anymore they were so far sunken back into their sockets they looked like black pits. Their skin was so tight around their bones that I was expecting the skin to tear altogether. That is, if the necrosis hadn't already done that. The smell of shit, piss, and rot was overwhelming. Even through the window.
"You've found them... don't think anything of it. They're worthless."
The sudden crackle of the intercom turning on had startled me.
The incinerator turning on made me jump away from the window let alone nearly piss myself.
Those poor people's screams of agony have been forever engrained into my mind.
The next thing I realized was that I was running. Partly out of fear, but mostly out of rage. If he only knew that I was in the cell, but he didn't know that I could pick locks, I could turn the tables on this bastard. Improvising, I was able to, eventually, get a little metal wire out of the chair's backing. After about a half hour of jimmying the lock... I got out
As an illusionist, I have to say that lighting is almost everything. This fucker was good. As I walked down the bleakly lit hallway the flickering lights made the shadows climb up the walls and dash across blank doors. When I put my ear to the door all I heard were a few brief shuffles. Everything went silent and I was, naturally, expecting something to happen. As I let my guard down everything around me started spinning as I hit the floor when whatever-the-fuck was behind the door hit it at what was probably max force.
Dizzy and on the verge of blacking out I dragged myself to the nearest corner. The shadows crept up on my unconscious body as the lights, one by one, went out.
I woke up in the middle of the pitch blackness alone. As my senses came about I could hear the clicking of hard heeled shoes against the laminate flooring. I looked out from the little nook of wall which I had slept in. I recognized the mask on the man's face. He was dressed like Masky, save for the hard heeled shoes.
Unoriginal fuck, I thought to myself.
Masky called out to me.
He stopped right next to me and looked in my general direction. I have no idea if he saw me or not. His slow, methodical breathing seemed to echo somewhere deep in my bones. Somewhere deeper than where marrow can run. My heart was beating so loud I was afraid that even Mr. Masky wannabe could hear it.
He moved on.
I tried to decide whether or not I should come up from behind him and kill him right there. Kill him deep in the shadows where there would be no finding him. I stayed put, however, and let what seemed like an eternity pass before I got up and headed in the other direction.
As I walked I could hear rasping on the other sides of the anonymous, unmarked doors as I passed. Then, in a doorway, I could make out a rather small black brick-looking-thing. It was a walkie talkie.
Okay, random as this is... this could be useful, I said to myself in a whisper.
No more than two minutes later the walkie talkie came to life and my captor said, "I saw you, you know. I let you live."
I never responded.
"I'm behind you, I'm always behind you."
Still, my silence was stern.
Then, I heard his natural voice as he turned the corner. Nothing registered in my walkie talkie. He was done with me for the moment. I darted behind the best cover I could find. He kept walking.
At least I knew where he was most of the time. I followed him. When he walked through a threshold I waited outside the door and spoke into the walkie talkie for the first time.
"The place forms a circle... or at least something that resembles a circle, doesn't it?" I asked, semi rhetorically.
"Ah, it speaks," the asshole said quite condescendingly.
"Shut up and answer the damn question," I barked sternly.
"Yes... it does."
"Well... then that means I'm always behind YOU doesn't it?" This time my question was definitely rhetorical.
There was a dead silence on the other end. I smirked as I could hear frantic rustling and banging from within the room. My captor came out in a hurry, looking both ways in a panic. And when he looked my way I knocked him out cold with a couple of hard blows to the face.
After making sure his sorry ass was K.O.'d, I locked him in the room from the outside. For what seemed like hours I walked in circles around the structure. I could find no goddamned exit from this alien place. There was only me, my kidnapper, the darkness, and shitloads of dead people somewhere around me.
I was about to go crazy. Literally on the verge of talking to myself in a serious manner.
Then, from around a corner I didn't even notice, turned the fucking masky.
"HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET OUT OF THERE?" I demanded furiously.
This time he didn't respond.
Nothing had registered on the walkie talkie. He had completely caught me by surprise. I was honestly expecting him to taunt me if he did wake up. I ran and he lunged at me, just missing my ankle. He reached out with his knife and, no so luckily, cut my Achilles Tendon.
I rolled on the ground in pain and my captor pinned me down holding the knife across my throat. As he got up to plunge the knife into my chest, I punched the motherfucker in the throat and stuck his knife in his gut.
For the minutes that I could barely move I could only watch him writhe and shriek in agony and, eventually, lay still.
Crawling across the floor, powered only by the will to live, and looking for an exit I checked the doors that seemed to not have anything behind them. Eventually, after continuous trial and error I gave up on finding an escape. Just then, a great crash practically made me go deaf as a newly formed entrance/exit, five feet away from me, flew open. I don't know who found me but the only thing I remember after that was continuous shouting and then blackness. Days later I woke up in the hospital after nearly succumbing to my wounds.
Credited to Mr.Zalgopasta
Originally uploaded on September 30, 2011
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