Chapter Five
Captured.
I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually I start to walk up the stairs. I stop just outside the entrance as I see myself surrounded by those eyeless things a dozen guns pointed at me. “Nothings changed.” My words barely audible I fall to my knees. Deprived of all hope I look to those things pulling out my knife and hatchet. “Not a bad way to go I guess.” I don’t know what’s happened to me, but unlike when I first got here I feel nothing now. No fear, no relief, and surprisingly no anger. I begin to move forward and they ready their rifles in a few moments it’ll all be over. I slow for a moment when I see the eyeless impersonating my mother approach and motion for the others to lower their weapons. They do so without any hesitation whatsoever and I get the sense they wouldn’t raise them again without her permission even if I killed one of them. She’s wearing a similar uniform as them although obviously one given to those of rank. Other then it’s dark color it’s remarkably similar to my mothers’ military outfit. She raises her hand in a way that says stop, but also that she doesn’t want to hurt me. I’m tempted for a moment. I don’t understand why I was, but I’ve already decided that this is the end and I charge forward. She raises what looks like a gun and fires, but it’s quiet. I’m confused until I feel my chest and find a syringe there. “A fucking tranquilizer.” Is all I mange to get out before I go unconscious.
I wake in a room like a prison cell, but more furnished. Maybe I’m in the one solid building they have on their base by the clearing. There’s a two-way mirror like in an interrogation room. I try the door which as expected is locked and proceed to flip off the two-way mirror. Looking around I see a toilet and sink, a bed, two chairs with a table between them, and a nightstand with a lamp and two books. Thinking it could make a decent weapon I try to pick up the lamp only to realize it’s screwed into the nightstand. I take another look around seeing everything else is secured similarly. I hear the door getting unlocked, but feel no need to hide or defend myself I just take a seat. The eyeless that comes in is the same one that looks like my father. “Why won’t you things just kill me?” The eyeless closes the door behind it and I hear it lock. He takes a seat across from me placing a clipboard and notebook on the table. He writes something in the notebook and slides it across the table. “You can’t trust your eyes William. I know you’re under tremendous mental strain, but please believe me. I am your father Wilhelm.”
“No, no, no, no it’s not possible you’re fucking lying.” I grab my head. “I’m not crazy you can’t be my father…. I’m not crazy.” The eyeless is crying and reaches across for his notebook. He writes something else and slides it across to me again. “Believe me I will find a way to help you, but you need to trust me.” I feel myself shutting down and it’s getting harder to think. I can’t be crazy. I don’t want to be crazy. Is the other option any better that I crossed into an alternate dimension or something? They actually have yet to hurt me. I look at it with it’s empty eye sockets and surprise myself saying. “I don’t know what’s happening, but okay I’ll trust you.
Soon later we found that if he typed something on a computer or phone that could translate it to sound I could hear it and that’s how it talks to me now. It’s been a few days. The thing that claims to be my father comes from time to time. Other then meals and books he asks questions. He’s trying to convince me he’s my father and it’s my perception that’s wrong. I know I said I’d trust him during a mini breakdown, but I don’t want to believe he’s right. If he is. My mother shot me and they’re both keeping me prisoner here. This isn’t a mental hospital or any kind of care facility I can think of. I must be in one of The Company’s facilities. If I was crazy I would be in a mental facility, right? If he’s right that. Even then I can’t trust them. It means this company they work for sees me as a guinea pig. These things that believe they’re my parents are probably why I’m not in a stereotypical prison cell. Only the thing that says it’s my father treats me like a living being. Despite this I’ll play along for now. It’s my only shot at finding a way home.
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