by Clara Wake
Considering how weak and frail Nickolai is, The Governor finally released his wrists, bruised, red and raw. She releases him and walks out, leaving him to do as he wishes.
Hours pass and for once, the music isn’t blaring. Silence is bliss, and he’s finally able to get a speck of sleep before he jolts awake by a loud crash from one of the other rooms.
His eyes flicker, and he finally opens them slowly. They’re still burning, but he shakes it off and goes to wipe them, until he realizes he’s unchained and free. He takes a moment, staring down at them. He can’t feel his hands anymore – completely numb – but he flexes and shakes them until they finally start to tingle from the rapid movements and change of position. It is too hard to rotate his wrists – the burns and scrapes from the cuffs around his wrists prevent him from moving his hands in certain angles, but he is free nonetheless.
After taking several moments to gather the feeling in his own hands, he takes a while and turns slowly to see the masked man is gone. Observing the room, he takes advantage of the freedom to pay attention to detail, as he picks himself off the ground but falls right back down as his knees buckle from the pressure and weight, shaking violently from the strain. He smacks his palms on the ground as his knees do the same.
He moved too fast – expecting his body to work with him – but he realizes it’s been two weeks and he hasn’t used his own body. His mind is clouded and drained, poisoned and flooded with darkness.
He makes another attempt, shuffling towards the nearest wall. Nickolai uses it to his advantage, leaning against it. He uses it to hold himself up, gathering himself and finding his own ground.
Eventually, after several times crashing and burning, he finally stands tall on his own two feet. Muscles stretching and embers flooding his body, he moves slowly towards the three separate doors – more specifically the pink door. His hands trace and trail along the wall for extra balance and guidance.
Locking his eyes with the door, Nickolai shifts forward only to notice the door is unlocked. His ear twitches at the realization before he huffs slowly, pushing his hand against it and shoving it open. The eerie and unsettling feeling sends his shoulders lower and his guard on high alert, not that he’s able to do much right now.
Stepping in, the room is twice as large as the one he’s in. The green and white LED lights above flicker and hum loudly. Not all the lights are flickering; the ones that are working radiate and brighten the room immensely. He’s quick to grab a hospital gown from the rack near the door. Blanketing his body, the cotton feels soft against his rough and raw skin. He continues ahead, feeling a little more confident now that he’s no longer naked.
He creeps along, almost like an old man without his cane. He slowly turns his head to look around and sees many hospital items scattered around: wheelchairs, beds, machines, blankets, and medical supplies. Shelves of supplies, ranging from medical to military and everything between, line the walls.
What has Nickolai’s stomach turning is the objects behind a large white curtain.
There are many chemistry items, including supplies to cook and create drugs and scientific experiments.
His eyebrows crease as he moves deeper into the room. There is a line of hospital tables in rows of six in the middle of the room. Beneath the pool of light, he looks at the metallic tables, the scent of unknown substances drenching the area.
His eyes flicker before he notices name tags on the tables. Slowly, he goes through them all before seeing one that immediately startles him. He gasps. Earth – Six.
He stands there in disbelief for a moment, before he hears whispers from behind. Cautiously, he turns around to see a young man also in a hospital gown. He’s shaking, and his head twitches. He stares at Nickolai with the same wide-eyed expression.
“E-Eart-th…S-Six,” he stutters, his head jolting with each stammered breath, before he steps from the shadows.
“What did they do to you? C-can I help you?” Nickolai asks carefully, slamming questions down quickly, clearly disturbed by what the boy’s bald scalp riddled with needle marks and scars and his piercing ice blue eyes. It is almost as if he is blind with the hue against the light.
“W-What…a-about…y-you?” The patient stutters. He moves in slowly, reaching out to the tall elf, his movements erratic as he attempts to touch him.
Nickolai is sapped; he’s outraged to see how fucked up this person is. Not only that, but he is meant to be a member of his own squad. Why was he down here? It’s not until he draws his eyes over him once more before he sees the many syringe marks covering his arm, neck, and temple.
As Nickolai stares in disbelief, Earth Six suddenly shakes uncontrollably and violently before he vanishes into thin air, causing Nickolai to yelp and smack up against the tables. They clatter against each other loudly.
His eyes are wide in shock. He has no idea what he’s just seen or if he even saw it at all. He’s been down here for two weeks. God knows what this sort of treatment does to the mind. – imagination, and starvation at the edge of the mind. He’s conflicted, confused, and frankly, fucking scared of what he’s just seen.
He jerks his head around, frantically looking to see where the boy might have gotten to, his breath hooked and his heart leaping in his throat. He’s never seen anything like it, and he can’t shake the fear that trembles his hands.
“Fuck!” he finally gasped, collecting himself from the ground. He attempts to look around for Earth Six, but he’s soon trapped by two guards standing at the door with cattle prods in hand.
He has no energy, even with the adrenaline that surges through his veins. He can’t fight them; he can’t run nor, can he attack. He’s forced to stand there as they close in and immediately drive the cattle prod into his back and sides.
Left alone, Nickolai is tormented and left to listen to the taunting within his mind. The desire to give up and just drop and never get back up, to let the darkness seep through and take over is strong. What does it matter if he is gone? No one would care. Sure, Jake might, but he’d get over it. Otherwise, he is up there constantly worrying about him, stressing himself out. What if that stress could be cured by the sheer mention that Nickolai was gone? He could start to move on.
This isn’t living. This is the world, conjured in pain and anguish. Painted in sin and lead by the Devil. Corrupted, dangerous, and flooded with hatred. This isn’t a place to find happiness, everything but happiness resides in these walls. Caged like an animal, born to breed and feed. Is there anything else out there? Or is this truly what the world is? He dares to dream.
This time, he is lying down on the cold steel tables, beneath the bright flood of light. There are restraints around his ankles and wrists. Another two across his stomach and chest keep him still and unable to move his body once more.
His hands clench into tight fists and toes curl as tears spread from the corners of his eyes. He is scared senseless. There is no point in screaming, praying, or fighting. He has nothing left in him, and there is no one to hear him cry.
“Nickolai?” Jake softly chokes, his eyes glass with tears as he stares at Nickolai, who lies curled up in a ball staring at the wall and exposing his back. Closed off from everyone, even him.
Jake’s throat tightens, as tears leak from his eyes. He’s desperate to know he’s okay, but he’s clearly not. If not by the scars that littered his back, it’s everything else he’s been through down there. That he can’t tell him. Jake is terrified, wanting so badly to help Nickolai but he won’t speak, he won’t move. It petrifies him.
Every day, Jake let Nickolai know he was there for him no matter what.
He almost broke his cover many times. However, he doesn’t give a shit. He knows it means a lot to Nickolai.
Sometimes, Jake just sits at the end of his bed and reads to him some of his favourite books or just reminds him of their past. What they’ve been through; afraid he’s forgotten, or his mind was gone. He is so scared for him; he can’t imagine what it is like down here
, and he doesn’t even know that Nickolai was protecting him the whole time. The two questions The Governor wanted were: what was the girl’s name? And where did he get the earrings?
Jake continues to leave food for Nickolai, but it just goes to waste. Left uneaten and untouched. Yet he continues to give him fresh food every day. Several times, Jake wants to contact the nurses and tell them what is going on, but there’s a reason he’s there and not with the nurses – he’s not allowed to speak of what happened. Of course, the nurses would need to know to tend and mend him. So, Nickolai’s left there to heal himself with no help other than his own Mystweaver.
“I’m surprised he’s alive” Aiden teases, laughing as the days go by and there is no contact from Nickolai whatsoever. Bored and wanting someone to torment, he’s left to pick on Jake. However, Jake has created the excuse of being there for Nickolai as his Mystweaver, so he spends most of his time in there with him, unaware that Nickolai is still protecting him.
Nickolai is finally able to sleep, and that’s what he was doing.
Sleeping and letting his body heal. He knows Jake is there every day. He wants to reach out to him, but he can’t. He can’t bear the look on his face, to see those doe eyes saturated in tears, so worried and concerned for him. Nickolai doesn’t want Jake seeing him like this. He doesn’t want Jake to see him so brittle, broken, and weak. His thought process is deep in the dark water, engulfed in darkness with no light to guide him out this time. He is drowning in defeat, and he feels that he deserves every single bit of it.
He is literally as pathetic as they all claimed him to be. He didn’t win the battle, and he’s left to re-live it all in his mind.
He doesn’t deserve to be curled up on his own bed, he doesn’t deserve Jake. He doesn’t deserve to be breathing. Nightmares carve and dig through his mind, inking the events and mixing them with everything else that’s happened to him. He’s tormented and traumatized to the point of holding his breath and seeing how long he’ll last. If it matters at all.
Energy slowly crawls back, but his mind is far too dark to even consider doing anything. Each movement sends sharp pains to curl and pin in all the wrong places.
His back, stomach, and chest are the worse. The familiar scent of blood spreads through his own room. He doesn’t let Jake touch him at all, even to clean up the gaping wounds on his back.
Nickolai distances himself from the only person he cares about because he is only causing him pain and despair in the end.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through. All I care is that you’re here and you’re alive,” Jake says slowly and gently. He is still upset, and he is getting frustrated because he misses his only friend and wants him back.
“I’m…” Jake chokes, feeling the unsettling feeling of tears bubbling to surface as his chest tightens. “You’re my little Phoenix, see? You got back up again.” He chuckles softly, wiping his nose as tears dropped from his now closed eyes.
He’s desperate to help him, to clean and dress his wounds, and see just how he was. His face lightens up the second he sees Nickolai’s ear twitch at his little speech, and he finally smiles brightly. A small sign of hope finally seen.
Nickolai appreciates Jake more than he realizes. He just doesn’t know how to express it or act on it. He isn’t used to it, and he doesn’t know exactly how to express such gratitude. A simple ‘thank you’ doesn’t stand well with him. It doesn’t seem like it is ever enough. Sure, a hug would work, but hell, he doesn’t even know how the hell they work properly. He’s so lost in the realm of affection. All he can do is say what he feels, but it just never feels like it is enough.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nickolai softly replies.
As Nickolai speaks, Jake feels the sense of happiness smack him in the face. He continues to smile, so pleased and overwhelmed to see that Nickolai is slowly starting to piece himself back together. He couldn’t be any prouder of him right now.
More words are spoken, and eventually, Jake observes and treats Nickolai as much as he can provide. He bandages his burns from the whips and patches over the terrible stitching job. He does his own stitches to seal the wounds on Nickolai’s chest and stomach. He cleans the wounds and makes sure Nickolai is getting enough rest. Things are finally starting to settle.
“You’re one hell of a fighter,” Jake whispers to himself. It has him thinking even deeper into how much Nickolai has been subject to and how fast he heals compared to others. He is such an enigma, but he keeps it to himself after it is arousing even more questions for Nickolai to try and solve.
Although some nights, the bandages on Nickolai’s back fall off, leaving the scarring to worsen each time. His back is like a map leading nowhere.
The night is darker than usual, as clouds hover over the moon hiding it and blanketing the sky.
The air is warm and thick. It is hard for most to sleep, but for once, it isn’t for Nickolai, and he’s never slept so heavily in his entire life. For the first time, he holds his blanket clutched into his palm, as if it is the only thing that makes sense to him. He couldn’t explain how it was there with him again, maybe Jake found it while he was gone. He didn’t know, neither did he care right now. He needed it, and it’s there.
It’s been weeks since he was brought back to his room and Earth’s squad. He sleeps well, and he could get used to this nice, deep sleep if the nightmares didn’t jolt him awake in sweat and tears. Memories flood his mind and remind him of just how weak he is. He does his best to sleep again, but sometimes they are too damaging to close his eyes again; he’s too afraid to continue the nightmare, too afraid he won’t wake up again.
Eventually, he finds himself drifting off to sleep. Curled up, he’s facing the wall again, still scared to face the world head on. He knows he’s not ready, but mentally and physically and for once, he’s found a comfortable spot on his side.
Slowly, the sheets move in the night. Pressure is applied, and his bed slightly shifts, but he doesn’t wake up. He’s fast asleep, completely unaware of the movements within his own room, in his own bed.
Curling up behind him, Skye lays her head down and rests beside him.
Her eyes wander along his back and tears splutter as she hovers her hand over his back – wishing she could stroke and soothe him – as small silent sobs shake her lips.
She continues to lay with him, even though he’s unaware. She continues to hover her hand over his back, watching her shadow drape his back wishing she could comfort him.
She’s so happy he’s there as she watches his breathing, his side slowly moving up and down in rhythm. She is so pleased he’s there.
How she managed to sneak out is beyond anyone. However, she managed the second she heard that Nickolai was back. She is there to make sure no one is lying. She knows he hasn’t said her name, and it makes her sick every time she thinks about it.
After what he’s been through, he could have said her name. She doesn’t care, but at the same time, she does. She wants to see him again and being kept from seeing him again would tear her apart. She has so much respect and admiration towards him – she could have owned up but then Nickolai suffered for nothing.
Who does that? Who endures two weeks of excessive torture for someone they just met? No one. He was so different and unique.
He, out of every person trapped inside the walls, doesn’t deserve to be here. He deserves better.
Her hand still lingers, as she moves it up to behind his head. Hesitation lingers in her fingertips and she watches him and tries not to focus on the fresh scars on his back. She wishes the tears away and reminds herself that he is literally right there.
CHAPTER 13
Each day, Nickolai grows stronger, gaining strength and agility. He is finally eating and restoring his strength thanks to Jake.
It is shocking that The Captain even lets him rest, honestly. He expected the bastard to have him up and shooting, running through hoops the second he was dumped back into his room, but no. For once
, a small sign of kindness shines through, and it is nothing but confusing to everyone involved.
Nickolai is unaware of Skye’s midnight visits. She comes in quietly and leaves quietly. She is so lucky he isn’t his normal self, or he’d throw her out again. Invasion of privacy or what? He doesn’t like that, and again, Skye is extremely lucky he is so deeply asleep.
She wants and wishes for him to wake up so she can tell him how much she appreciates everything he’s done for her, but he never wakes up. She doesn’t mind though, falling asleep to the sounds of his soft breathing. It is hypnotizing, but she knows his eyes are so much more. She dreams of the day she’ll see them again.
Most nights, she finds herself unable to sleep, unless she is there with him. Restless, tossing, and turning, she tries to shut her mind off. She can’t stop thinking about him, and she drowns in guilt each time she thinks about the scars that litter his back.
She crawls into his bed around three am. She feels so much energy from him, such a warm and kind aura radiating from him. She feels safe with him, and she’s never felt safe before, never in her life.
Like him, Skye’s been in the Compound since birth. Her parents are a mystery untold, and she has no idea about who she truly is, much like everyone else in this dump. At least, she presumes. She didn’t pry on others’ past, or why they are here.
Days pass and almost every night she is there, watching him breathe. It comforts her, and she relaxes before he finally jerks his head to look over his shoulder – and she sees those eyes that captivated her the first time. Frozen, lost for words as her mouth parts in shock. She wasn’t expecting him to wake up. She’s stunned and uncertain on what to say or how to explain herself.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. There is a girl in his bed. How did this happen again?
“I-uh….” she manages. She’s scared now. He seems angry, and she’s afraid she’s overstepped her boundaries. After all, she doesn’t know him at all.
