Well... it may have something to do with the fact that we're talking right now. As for how I knew your name, it's on the letter. I wasn't bullshitting.
Uh… Right. [ Finn goes silent for a moment, his hands knotting in the blanket, a crease forming across his brow. ] Sorry, do you mind if we don’t, like, talk about that I— Sorry. Doesn’t matter. Finn Mckibbon. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Though she was obviously wrong, time had never seemed to go by any slower for the girl. Peyton knew what to expect in her fear simulation, something she thought would give her a benefit, but she knew it was something no mental preparedness could get her through. The five months she'd been taken were her nightmares, her purgatory -- but then, it was worse than Hell could ever be. She'd unconsciously pulled her knees up to her chin, her hair falling down beside her, as her eyes stuck firmly at the clock. Tick tock. She'd been sitting in the waiting area for nearly twenty minutes, her gaze stricken and unmoving, as her head played memories that haunted her in her head over and over again. She wasn't ready.
She cringed, closing her eyes when the memory of sitting in her own vomit and waste unable to cry another tear returned to her head. When her name was called, it was almost a miracle. "Peyton Brookes?"
She looked up, a small smile tugging on her lips.
small room. She was ready.
She picked herself up, forcing each step into the room. She bit down on her lip, taking a seat on the chair. She sighed, nodding to herself. You can do this. You did this. It's nothing you can't get through. The needle was injected into her neck, and then it begun.
Darkness. Peyton blinked a few times, fear fueling itself inside her body. She sat there for a few seconds, her breaths getting heavy. Footsteps. Her eyes shut themselves, and her breaths quickened. She felt around the surface, trying to figure out where exactly she was trapped. It wasn't long until all the familiarity came to her. The cold floor burned her skin. She got on her feet, taking small steps forward. The footsteps came to a halt, and what must be the doorknob rattled. The door opened not long after. It was sudden, the harsh hands on her. Her legs lost balance, the hands on her the only thing keeping her up. She shook her head, struggling, her kicks and screams at this point getting louder and harsher. "No -- no, no.. no.." Her back was slammed against the wall. She could see nothing, see no one, feel nothing but the cold air around her and the fear that caused her screams and cries for help. The man never spoke. She'd forgotten what another human voice sounded like. It wasn't until struggling was more painful than staying still that she remembered; this isn't real. Her breaths steadied, the pain faded, and her knee shot up, hitting flesh or bone, she couldn't tell. She pushed the man off her, running towards the door he'd come through. She twisted the knob, pulling the door open.
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