Evie (inexpert) wrote in commandhq, @ 2017-12-26 18:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~evie bowen |
Who: Evelyn Bowen/Tinker (narrative)
What: Trapped
When: December 26, 2017
Where: Hidden secured facility in Saudi Arabia
Rating: Medium for vague mentions of abuse and blood
Attention: Alice Frost/Looking Glass
Not for the last time, and certainly not for the first, Evelyn fought back a wave of panic which threatened to overwhelm her. It had only increased in intensity since her capture. The longer she was there, the more anxious she became. They didn't give her a calendar, or a clock, or even a good window to look out of, so she had little way of knowing exactly how much time had passed. She was sure that it was at least days, maybe weeks.
Being trapped was nothing new. Technically, that was the situation back home, at the Limbo facility. But this was different; she didn't get hit at Limbo. They didn't mistreat her that much, unlike some of her colleagues, who had horror stories of misbehaving handlers who took things too far. No, she was cooperative, so they were nice enough to her. Here, wherever that was? It was a completely different story. They were trying to get information out of her, and she was doing everything she could to resist giving it to them, but she was running out of steam. All it would take to get whatever they were looking for was a strong enough telepath; so either they didn't have one, or they had already gleaned the information and the rest was some cruel punishment just for being there.
Thus far, they had been smart enough to keep her away from technology. They knew that much about her. She didn't know what else they knew; could they tell she was lying when she insisted that she only spoke English? Did they know that she could build, or did they only think she had some sort of computer-based powers? They were even less forthcoming than she had been. The only thing keeping her mouth shut at this point was the fear she instilled in herself that either they would kill her once they had what they wanted, or that the punishment back home for spilling what secrets she knew might end up worse than what she was going through on foreign soil. It was enough, but barely. She was tired, and in pain, and desperate to get out of there.
And when would that be? To her knowledge, no one had come for her. Had they tried and failed? Or had they decided that she wasn't worth the risk? Was she that expendable? Evie considered herself a bit of an optimist, but that was so hard to maintain in the face of such a hopeless situation. None of her attempts to contact the other Wraiths seemed to have gone through. She'd even tried talking to a mirror, but when it didn't talk back to her or she didn't get pulled through, she thought that maybe even Alice wasn't looking for her. It was a silly notion, of course; the more plausible answer was that the timing or placement was just off.
With that last, flickering flame of hope, Evie kept trying. They escorted her to a closet of a bathroom; barely more than a toilet in need of cleaning, a sink in disrepair, and a mirror. That was what she needed, though. There was no way to escape from this room, but she still needed to be quick, because they would barge in if she wasn't out in three minutes. As she was washing her hands and trying not to look at her own damaged reflection in the mirror, Evie got an idea.
Her lip had recently been split. It was mostly scabbed over, but still fresh enough. Hating herself for stooping to this on an off chance, Evie nevertheless pushed herself on with it. Wincing in preparation, she bit down hard on the swollen part of her lip, until she tasted the blood once more. She whimpered at the pain and how gross it was, but it was all she could think to do. She dabbed her finger in the blood, and began writing on the wall opposite the mirror. When she didn't have enough of her makeshift red ink, she squeezed on the busted lip until she had more, with a tear rolling down her cheek. She wasn't as brave as so many of the others; she didn't have their pain tolerance. It made her feel so useless just to be asking for help, but she was scared and lonely and ready to go home.
By the time she left the bathroom--leaving the lights on so that her message could be visible as long as possible, in case Alice looked in--the writing was on the wall. 'Tinker Bell wants to fly.' Evelyn could only wish that the message would make it through.