Ryan, if that really was his name, opened his eyes.

He welcomed the darkness surrounding him and pulled it close, feeling safe in its solitude. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he rested his chin on them and wrapped his arms around his legs.

He was in the cage and felt both claustrophobic and agoraphobic at the same time. The bars were close. The room was vast. The opposing sensations danced across his heart, leaving it thudding from their rapid footsteps. He focussed on the feeling that it could burst from his chest and foxtrot out from his prison, leaving him an empty cavity to mourn its loss.

Calm, he told it. Easy. Slooooow.

It ignored his pleas, waiting to ease its beating on its own terms.

Did he have control of anything anymore? If his own body would disregard his instruction, would he ever escape?

The darkness wrapped him as tightly as he held onto his legs. Ssshhh, it said. We understand. We're here for you. He sighed, closed his eyes and allowed it to soothe the beast in his chest, which it did quickly.

He silently thanked it and reached out for the mattress. He would lay on it and wait until something happened. When it did, he'd let it take him where it wished, then would wait for the next time and the next. He felt defeated, but couldn't discern exactly why.

He remembered being on the bed and talking to Dr Bradley. She was playing with his mind, trying to stir it up so he would lash out or shrink into himself. He couldn't recall what had happened in the end. He was back in the cell. How did he get there? What was the culmination of their meeting? Did he find anything out? Give anything away?

If only he could recall.

It'd come to him. He needed to have faith, but was struggling to think what even that was like.

Oh well. The darkness would keep him safe for the moment, and the moments were all he had because, when they lengthened into hours or days, they blurred and became indistinct entities he couldn't keep track of.

"Hello?" said a voice.

It was a deep, resounding sound that vibrated through him. He imagined the speaker to be a large man. Stocky, with tattooed sleeve and a long, well-trimmed beard. The man was not afraid, but he was curious.

The cage containing the man wasn't close to his, but the voice carried, as if the acoustics of even a paper bag would feel honoured to be ridden by the timbre of such a sound.

"Sshhh!"

The hissed warning was from someone situated between the two of them. Ryan was pleased he hadn't had to utter it himself.

"Who's there? Who's that? Where the fuck am I?"

"Sshhh!"

"Stop telling me to shut up and start telling me what the hell is going on."

The man was irate, and Ryan could tell thunder was brewing in him.

"You've got to be quiet!"

Whoever was issuing the warning was being brave, and Ryan wished he could have that same fire in his belly. It would prompt him into action, something he had felt only a short time before. Where had it gone, and why so suddenly? How had it been extinguished so completely?

"Don't be trying to tell me what to do, or I'll come over and rip your fucking head off."

There was no answer this time, just the sound of faint laughter, drowned out by the opening of the far door and the sharp, swift ingress of light.

Footsteps towards the cage. The turning of a key in a cage's lock.

"Who the fuck are you? What am I doing here? Let me..."

The words became muffled before stopping, and Ryan could hear fighting. The connection of fists or feet. The grunts of either or both hitting their target.

"Get the fuck... Get off..."

It was a valiant fight, and Ryan thought the man had a chance, at least until another voice entered the fray.

"Back off."

Bradley sounded commanding, and the cessation of the struggles showed just how much.

"Be careful, doc," someone said. They were panting.

"I always am, Colorado."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, you know how much I do love it when you call me that."

Clipped steps from heels Ryan hadn't yet heard walked a short distance before stopping.

"You have questions, I assume?" she asked.

"Damn fucking right I do. For one thing, who the fuck are you, and where the fuck am I?"

"I think you'll find that's two things," Bradley said curtly. "But, I'll allow it. So, do you want answers?"

"Of course I fucking do. I suggest you give me some."

"I have a question for you first, if I may."

"Yeah, go on."

"Do you know what I hate?"

"No, and I don't give a shit."

"I'll tell you, anyway. It's bad manners."

There was a flash and the sound of a gunshot that reverberated around the large room. Stifled gasps rippled around the surrounding cages, but Ryan's attention was caught by something else.

In the muzzle flash, he saw Dr Fiona Bradley with her arm outstretched. In her hand was a gun.

"Are we cycling him?" Colorado asked.

"No," said Bradley. "I don't think so. He wasn't a suitable subject, and I want to find out why we even had him in the first place. Who fucked up?"

"I'll find out for you, Doc."

"I know you will. In the meantime, clean up on aisle six."

There was a ripple of laughter from those with her, then she and her entourage left. A short time later, someone came in and revisited the same cage. The sounds coming from them made it obvious the 'clean up' was in progress. The key in the lock indicated it was complete.

At the outer door, the person stopped before opening it.

"You lot really need to remember to shut the fuck up. It isn't a suggestion, either. You've seen what happens."

There was a collective sigh of relief when the door closed behind them. Ryan's own exhalation joined the others, and he slumped back against his bars, needing their solid, immovable steel for his will to hold on to for support.

Where the fuck was he? How could she get away with murdering someone in full view of countless others? The darkness didn't conceal her actions, and she hadn't cared. Those with the doctor had neither flinched nor showed any surprised that she could so callously shoot someone. And their only crime was to speak up.

What else was she...?

He brought his hand up to his face, holding it still for a moment to steady his suddenly churning insides. Then, carefully, he touched his nose. He remembered her punch. He remembered her icy voice. He remembered the pain, abrupt and short-lived.

But...

His nose was just as it should be. There was no sticky, dried mess of blood. It wasn't twisted to the side, the shattered bones within forcing it out of shape. It was exactly where it should be, in shape and unbroken. He hesitantly felt his throat. It, too, was unharmed and, besides, he was breathing normally. His lungs were inflating and deflating, as expected. Or as usual, because his memory was telling him they should be doing otherwise.

How could he be healthy? Why wasn't he in a hospital bed, one where actual medical staff were looking after him instead of her? Why wasn't he dead?

Was he grateful? He felt as if he should be, and that gratitude was aimed at Bradley. She'd caused him injury, but he was mended and it had to be thanks to her. She must have saved him, and, he supposed, he did bite her hand. He licked his lips. Could he still taste blood?

Had it even happened at all? His memory was a mess. All aspects of his identity were gone, so was his mind trying to fill in the blanks with make believe incidents that didn't really happen? He wasn't a psychiatrist (was he?), but it seemed plausible the mind might do something like that. It did the best for the person depended on what was going on, and that included creating realities that weren't real.

If he was questioning what was genuine, he had no way of telling what wasn't. He had to choose one or the other. Either he was laid in bed, sleeping, and this was an all too vivid nightmare, or he was actually being held captive in a cage.

Eeny, meeny, miny moe.

He had to treat it as a game. It was far too serious not to.

His mental pointing from one supposition to the other ended with the idea this wasn't an illusion. He was trapped in a cage. Bradley had just shot someone. By default, that meant his throat and nose should have been decimated.

But they weren't.

Thank you for taking the time to read Cell. It is SO appreciated!