Youth

#2 - Day Two and A Bunch of Screaming Children

    [Y/n] slowly began to slip into wakefulness, the natural alarm clock of screaming children causing her eyes to crack open. It hadn't registered at first that the noise was real and not a figment of her imagination until she sat up and remembered the metal bed that had essentially destroyed her backbone. She leaned forwards and it cracked multiple times. The wailing never ceased.

    "Yeah," [Y/n] croaked groggily, "I'm coming," she muttered under her breath. Oddly, they seemed to quieten at this. Only a couple remained crying. The girl stood up, looking down at herself and sighing. She was still wearing her pyjamas from when she'd been kidnapped and there was no wardrobe or drawer in this room that would suggest she'd have anything else to wear. Hell, she was bursting for the bathroom but she hadn't seen one of those either. She probably should've checked the whole house before going to sleep.

Glancing around the room once more, she spotted a patch of wall that had a rectangular cut around it in the shape of a door.  It didn't quite look like a door because instead of a handle, there was just a hole where a handle should've been.  [Y/n] walked over to it, pulling the "door" open.  She feared she might just find a storage closet or a boiler or something, but - much to her relief - the cubicle she'd been hoping for revealed itself.  There was a sink (with the tiniest bar of soap that would probably only last three days) and a toilet, thankfully with three rolls toilet roll stacked beside it.  Like the rest of the house, the walls and ceiling were white and the floor copied the plain theme, though this time with some plastic-feeling tiles.  The toilet and sink were slightly grimy, akin to those of a public bathroom, but they were much better than nothing.  [Y/n] took this newfound liberty to quickly freshen up as much as she could with a tiny bar of soap and a sink.  Her hair was already getting greasy - she'd have to ask for shampoo and conditioner and just... shower in the sink.  Eh, she'd done it before, she could do it again.

    After having left the "bathroom", [Y/n] walked back through her room, opened the door to the corridor and walked down it again, looking at the doors with an element of fear as though something was about to jump out of them and rip out her throat. Three doors sat along the corridor, two on the right wall and one on the small sliver of wall at the very end of the corridor. She knew the first door led to the kitchen. She hadn't opened the second door yet, however she knew she ought to check the kitchen first for anything in the metal box. She'd feed herself after feeding the still screaming children.

    [Y/n] pushed the first door open, walking into the kitchen with a shudder. It was cold and her bare feet on the kitchen tiles didn't help her warm up. It also smelled musty and ridden with damp, despite there being no damp in sight.  Though supposedly the accommodation was quite good for the victim of a kidnapping.  She couldn't be too disappointed - she still had her limbs, after all, and none of her organs had been harvested for some strange dark magic.  Bonus. 

Pushing her morbid thoughts aside, she moved over to the metal box, pulling it down and open once more. Inside sat six new bottles of blood, much bigger than the ones from yesterday, and another note supposedly from Nyais. It read:

    'Dear [Y/n],

    I hope you slept well.  I understand the beds aren't good quality but it'll have to do for now.  I shall bring some hygiene products and changes of clothes when I visit later.  Please try not to skip meals like you did last night - I understand adjusting isn't easy but you need to keep yourself safe and well.

    - Nyais.'

    [Y/n] couldn't help but be surprised by the letter.  Nyais didn't seem like a bad person - it was very easy to forget that she'd been abducted. His words brought her some reassurance as she scooped up the lukewarm bottles and once again struggled to close the metal box and carry them through to the children.  Despite the suggestion of her not eating alluding to the fact that he had been watching her, [Y/n] felt quite neutral about the whole thing.  So what if she was being watched?  At least his reason for watching her wasn't to get off on watching her die slowly.  He seemed to be giving her advice, so that was always appreciated.