Down to the bottom

The room was dark, no light slipping through the thick walls. Hardly any air in the stuffy space. Her hands scraped and bruised from banging on the heavy metal door. Dried blood covering her knuckles and making the skin sting. She tries to breathe slower so she won’t suffocate in this cage made just for her. Her lungs burning with every gulp of air she takes. Bruises on her ribs a painful reminder of what happened.

They told her she would be okay. That eventually it would all be alright.

If she obeyed. If she listened. She didn’t. Instead, she rebelled and made new enemies. People that had no scruples to end her just because she dared to stand in their way. She lifts herself up and leans against the wall for some support. Her steps are shaky as she walks slowly to the door, her bare feet covered in dirt, her left ankle twisted. Her teeth grind against each other as she tries not to scream the pain away because that would only make her lungs swell even more.

Besides, she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. She stopped screaming out her demands ages ago. Now she only used her energy on surviving through this hell hole. Cursing under her breath everytime the pain became unbearable. At the same time surprised that she even felt it anymore. They say people have their limits. She didn’t. Always feeling like an elastic rubber band. Too stretched out, by life to even brake anymore. Her strength wasted, leaving her numb and used.

Still working, still managing to be of use, to those that thought they had power over her. She caused trouble to both sides. She confused, she caused mayhem. Constantly doing more to make others mad. Stepping up a notch, forcing her enemies blood to boil. A sort of a payback for all the times she felt used. Her trust gone, just a memory she could barely remember these days. There were those strange days that she wanted to step back and start the healing process. Or at least not to cause more disturbance. But those states only lasted for a short moment.

One snap of a finger and she was back to her old tricks. Angry, seeking vengeance. Every step she took taking her up to this place. This tight, dark cage that they made just for her. She touches the door and feels the tiny scratches that her nails left on the metal surface. Hardly any evidence that she even tried. The dried blood on her fingers and knuckles the only proof how big her efforts really were. They took her gun, they took her things. And as she leaned her head against the door, she wondered if she even cared that they left her clothes on.

She feels the dirty fabric of her once white t-shirt and the black pants that once weren’t just made of holes, filth, and her blood. Maybe, a million years ago, in another life she was happy. By now she couldn’t even tell. She felt drained and empty. She puts her head to the side, her ear close to the metal, trying to hear something. But what? The silence indicating that they just left and were never coming back? Or footsteps against the dirt floor, her life finally coming to an end? She didn’t really know or care anymore. Either way, it was just a matter of when instead of if.

She tries to focus again and read in their sick minds. What would they consider a bigger punishment? More tortures to make her suffer? Or just a quiet death, abandoned and all alone? She couldn’t stop thinking that that would be too easy. Not dramatic enough. An incomplete finish to a story that needed a final, strong statement. But maybe this was the big statement. Defeated in the center of all her enemies. Caught, locked down and left behind. A lesson for her. She didn’t really feel educated by it.

She felt angry, even if her body was barely functioning. Her head still pressed to the metal door. The cold surface working as a relief to her massive headache. The bruises at the back of her head still giving her hard time - she silently wondered if her skull might be fractured - or maybe it was the dehydration. Or maybe her body was finally giving in. Maybe. But she wasn’t the one to quit fast before she was sure she gave her maximum. The years in the military taught her how to be tough. How to survive in the worst possible conditions... and of course in captivity.

She smiles. She was not a quitter and when enemies surrounded her she welcomed them with open arms. She closes her eyes to sooth the pain, even if there was no light in the room, even if it seems that hope has left her too.

Her head is pounding without mercy, as she stumbles to the ground. She sits on the dirt, a thick layer of sand covering the ground. She closes her eyes again and remembers what she saw when they brought her here. Narrow tunnels, stuffy air, a strange smell in the air. She sees all of those metal doors that she passed and the ones that were meant just for her. She groans. Strengthened steel, 30 feet underground, no escape. A bunker built in the forty’s by the army. A place where the soldiers could keep their captives. She smirks despite her pain. A perfect, little cage just for her. How thoughtful. How kind.

Her headache sends painful waves through her brain and she flinches. Tired but still feeling, still sensing. Still expecting. She holds her head in her damaged hands and tries to calm the pain with her mind. It has worked before. She sighs when it doesn’t help. Maybe if she had some water. Her insides were so dry, that her muscles were practically grating against each other and her thoughts unclear because of the severe dehydration. Her throat felt swollen and like sandpaper. Her lips cracked. Her body begging for water, just a little. Anything. As the pounding to her head increases, something else manages to break through. A faint noise, a rustling noize. The first sounds in the last several days that weren’t either her shallow breaths or breaking and stumbling heartbeats in her bruised chest.

She closes her eyes tighter, puts down her arms slowly to the ground and tries to focus. Causing her senses to react with double force. She pulls a lock of hair behind her ear and listens. Nothing. She takes slow, steady breaths, making her heart calm down. Making her body as silent as possible. She needs to hear. She listens. Separating each heartbeat form the other and focusing on the silence in between.

Her body freezes. There it is again. Very faint but getting closer. She feels every strained muscle in her body tense up even more. The leftovers of adrenaline shooting through her blood, easing the headache. She smiles. Finally, she can feel something else but the pain. It’s like a jolt of electricity. Like pure magic in her shattered veins.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2LQEq-DX5Q

She tries to swallow and winces, yet her smile grows even wider as the sound increases. After a couple of seconds, she can make it out more clearly. The low rustling sounds turn in to faint footsteps. Her mind strains. How many footsteps? A dozen people? Six.. two? No, just one. Good. She could work with one, even in her condition. She wasn’t afraid of guns or the pain that might come her way. She was looking forward to some last fun. She needed to go out with a bang... and maybe, just maybe make it through. The steps grow louder as she tenses in anticipation like a predator waiting for its prey. Even if the odds were heavily against her.

She can hear steps quicken as the person gets closer. She listens in. Heavy steps, a faint smell of tobacco and sweat in the air. She inhales. The scent is musky. Definitely a man. Not that she expected a woman in here. Women were to smart to get into this side of business. The ones in charge had better things to do than taking care of a weak prisoner heading for close extinction. Besides, men seem to enjoy this aspect of their work assignments more.

She hears rustling sounds behind the door. Something small and metal jingling. The keys. She hears something bang against the wall as there are more moving sounds. She strains her mind. A gun. Big in size. She tries to remember what she saw when they brought her to this place. Her eyes open wide for a second and quickly close again. An assault rifle, 5.56 x 45 mm NATO. She moves her head to the sides... A selective-fire rifle that uses an intermediate cartridge and a detachable magazine. The famous “Storm rifle”. She searches her mind for more information. The technical facts soothing her mind. Let’s see. A short, compact, selective-fire weapons that fire a cartridge intermediate in power between submachine gun and rifle cartridges.

The sound of the key being turned around in the metal lock, catches her attention again. The man pushes the handle and nothing happens, which is followed by heavy cursing. He doesn’t seem to care if he will make any noise. Then again, why should he? He was the one with the gun while she has been stuck here for days. Beaten, bruised and on the verge of dying. No, nothing for him to worry about. He moves the key again and there is a distinct “click”. He pushes again with more force and the door finally moves, faint light slipping in. She adjusts her position, moving up to a crouch. Her hands slide against the sand and her fingers trace the surface, looking for a familiar object.

She had been very busy while they were away. She was always busy. Mind constantly on alert, even in the worst circumstances. A survivor, calculating her situation and the surroundings. People were here before her. Many lost souls ending their lives in this place. Things were bound to be laying around. Scraps of metal, some used bullets, pieces of this solid construction, used and broken over time. There is always something.

Her smile widens and the determination grows as she finds what she was looking for. She picks it up and straightens her position. She doesn’t even mind the pain that goes through her body. She feels her lungs burn as she inhales deeply.

The door opens wider. Everything happening in slow motion. She comes closer to the door, stands behind it and narrows her eyes. Not used to the light. She looks to the ground for just a half of a second to adjust her sight. She notices his shadow. Another half a second as he steps in. He stares for a moment at the frame of the door and the messed up lock and curses again.

She has been really busy.

She lifts the iron bar above her head, looks at his tall frame and takes a wide swing with it, using all of the force that’s left in her. The rod hits his head and he screams out, the gun falling out of his hands as he collapses to the ground. A heavy groan escaping his mouth. She stares at him as blood starts to trickle from his lips. She looks at the iron bar and then at the open wound at the back of his head. Her ribs hurt as she lets out a low laugh. She doesn’t care. The man lays on the ground, hardly moving. She steps closer and kicks his side with her bare foot. He groans again. Then he was still alive, good. Now, if she was in her full strength he would be dead by now. So this time he was lucky... if he doesn’t bleed out that is.

She bends against him and gently touches the side of his face, with an almost tenderness. He flinches.

If you’re still alive when they come back, remind them not to mess with me. It’s a kind request. I won’t ask twice.

She rips a small strip of material from her shirt and uses it to tie her hair. She stares at her bare feet and then at the man’s shoes. She puts her head to the side and furrows her eyebrows. She takes them off.

A little too big but better than nothing.

After a moment of consideration, she takes off the socks, reminding herself of the scrapes on her feet. She puts everything on and ties the shoes tightly.

It will do...

She takes his gun and hangs the strap over her shoulder. She is exhausted but at the same time, she enjoys the familiar weight. It feels reassuring. She slips through the door, then turns back. She looks through his pockets while also listening to his slow breathing. She smiles. He might live, who knows. He looks strong enough. She pulls out a box of matches, a couple of bucks and a small pocket knife. Mmm, her kind of toys, that’s for sure. She searches the pocket on his chest and takes out a pair of car keys, probably a jeep. Excellent. This will make everything much easier.

It takes her some time to get out as she walks through endless corridors. Barely any light coming from the old lamps hanging on a long wire that goes through the whole length of the walls. She eventually manages to find narrow stairs and climbs out of a hole at the end of it. She was lucky the escape-hatch was open. With the little strength she had left, she wouldn’t be able to open it by herself. And she didn’t really feel like asking for help from the bleeding out solder boy.

She looks around, her steps slow and cautious. She moves her arm to her face, shielding her face from the heat of the sun. Blinking with force. The air was dry and low wind brushed against her skin. Sand lifting and dancing by her feet. She was really thankful for the shoes because she could tell that the ground would be like walking on a frying pan in this heat wave. She holds a steady grip on her gun, while looking in every direction. Her gaze falls on the dull scenery and finally drops on the jeep. Its old and used but definitely looked like it was up and running.

She reaches it, eyes still scanning the area.

She sees the fence with the barbed wire on top and smirks. Like that could hold her. Then she looks at the gate, it’s opened. She shakes her head. So much for professionalism. The idiot didn’t even lock the gate. But then again, this was a deserted place and hardly ever anyone wandered of here. Only a couple of scumbags that felt like playing with their captive... other than that, the place was empty. Something in her gut telling her that he came here alone and there was no one else watching over.

She looks down at the car and notices empty big bottles of water, all except two. One full and the other used in half. She picks it up and doesn’t even care if there is acid in it. She opens it and drinks greedily. Finishing the bottle in just seconds. She takes one more steady sip from the other one and uses a little to wash her face. It feels so good. She is tempted to drink the water from the other bottle but quickly throws that idea away. She knew better than that. Besides she had a long way back and she didn't know when she would get the next chance to drink something... She sighs as her stomach starts to rumble as it practically sticks to her back. Mmm, I forgot about you.

She sits in the car, puts the keys in the ignition and sighs with relief when the engine roars into life. She speeds up and rushes through the gates without a moment of hesitation. Dust flying in the air and covering her sweated skin with dirt. She doesn’t even notice. She opens up the glove compartment and sees a pair of thick sunglasses. She puts them on and smiles with satisfaction. Time for a new plan and a new place to stay in. Maybe by the seaside? Perhaps. But first some payback... well, as soon as she licks all of her wounds away, sinking in a dark corner somewhere. But she will be back. No worries.

Stronger and with a much thicker skin.

.......................................................................................................................

From ” J ” , who decided to show up when I wasn’t expecting it.