Relief

The excruciating ache behind your eyes hits first, then the panic.  Darkness everywhere, no matter where you look. There are no lights, no shapes, no anything. Permanently blind–

You’re blindfolded.

Relax. Breathe. Think. Focus. Figure out where you are. You’re tied to a chair, wrists and ankles bound. Your mouth tastes like metal, and now you’re acutely aware of the bite on your tongue. It’s not going to kill you, but it sure is annoying.

The headache, though. It’s relentless. Pounding, hammering, chipping away at the inside of your skull with each thud, but it’s not just inside your skull anymore. It’s moving closer. Not hammering, sharp clicks – heels on tile.

They stop right in front of you.

“Did you know it’s impossible to extract when someone’s unconscious?” her voice rings through, far gentler than you would have imagined, and almost apologetic. “It would have been easier for sure, a stupid oversight on my end.”

Is she implying she…

“I know you probably have–”

“Where the fuck am I?” you blurt out, snapping your neck up towards the voice.

“...a lot of questions,” the girl continues, slowly stepping forward until she’s right in front of you.

Her cool fingers brush against your cheek for a moment before the blindfold is slipped off your face.

Light stabs right into your eyes. Everything’s a bit blurry, and it stays that way until you blink it away, vision focusing slowly.

She’s tiny. Knee-high leather boots, tiny excuse of a skirt hardly covering her pale thighs, tight jacket unzipped over a simple black top that does absolutely nothing to obscure the size of her chest under the fabric – it’s absurdly casual for the situation.

Her huge, round eyes peer down at you from above her black face mask. They’re gentle, out of place to say the least, but your pulse is still working double time.

“Why–”

“I can’t answer that,” she drags over a small stool and places a black case on it, unzipping it casually. “I actually can’t answer much of anything.”

“What the hell–”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she continues, slipping off her jacket and setting it aside before opening the little case, slowly removing the contents one by one. “You can trust me on that.”

“Why the fuck would I trust you?” you spit. “You… this whole… no one’s told me anything.”

She glances up, eyes softening even further, and slides the mask off her face. “I’m Sakura.”

“Nice to meet you, Sakura. Care to tell me why the fuck I’m tied to a chair? And maybe untie me so we can talk like normal people?”

“You’ve been out for a few hours,” she says softly.

That would explain the grogginess.

“But you’ll be alright, no permanent damage,” Sakura adds. “I think…”

“You think?” you repeat without an ounce of emotion in your words.

“Yeah, I’ve been the one taking care of you.”

“If you think I’m going to thank–”

“Thank me later, I assure you there aren’t many people involved who care about your wellbeing as much as I do,” Sakura steps up in front of you, bringing the little stool with her. She stares you right in the eyes. “Look, this is all a bit fucked up. I know you probably hate me right now. But you have to understand, I’m not your enemy. We can help each other.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to trust you for even a second,” you give your arms a little rattle against the straps. “But as long as I’m like this, does it even matter?”

“Not exactly,” she offers a meek smile. “But it’ll be easier if you cooperate, for your sake.”

“Let me guess,” you gesture towards your crotch.

“I don’t think it makes much of a difference, but I’m not the one who tried while you were knocked out,” she says quietly, suddenly too embarrassed to look you in the eyes.

“You’re right, it really doesn’t make a difference,” you hiss.

She flinches, but doesn’t defend herself further. If anything, her face visibly drops, she almost looks upset.

But now is not the time to try understanding her morals. Right now it’s probably best you just play along until someone can find you. Hopefully someone is looking…

“So, what is it,” you continue, curious if you can get something out of her. “Someone sick? Looking for a high?

“Not sick,” she sniffles and turns back to the tools. “Research.”

“And if I say no? Now that I’m actually awake, what if I still say no? You going to untie me and let me go?”

Sakura stays silent, avoiding your gaze still as she fiddles with the instruments.

“That’s what I thought,” you scoff. “You’re really just trying to save your own pride by acting like I’m not being forced to comply. Trying to tell yourself you’re not an awful human–”

“Try not to think too much,” her fingers reach towards your waistband.

“Wait. Sakura, right? Listen–”

“Will you be able to get it up?” she works quickly, tugging the fabric down to your ankles, exposing your body to the cool air of the room. “I figure you’re probably a little stressed–”

“A little stressed?” you laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“We have an injection if needed,” Sakura ignores you. “It works quickly, almost instantly. Very effective.”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much just to get a high? I’d be more than happy to work something out with you, something more humane maybe? Trust is mutual, you know.”

“I’m not here for the high,” Sakura turns back to the tools. “I told you, research.”

“Fine, whatever, research. Call it whatever you want.”

“Please,” her voice cracks. “I’m begging you. It’ll be so much worse if someone else replaces me.”

The room goes silent. You know for a fact she’s not working alone, you remember fragments of when you were abducted, another girl and a driver at least. None of it makes much sense either way, it’s impossible to know what’s really happening here.