Inescapable Bondage

Dreams. They were often thought of as vague imagery that depicted true thoughts and ideas of one's subconscious. Was that what this was, a dream?

This certainly didn't seem real, she thought, as her eyes fluttered open.

The blurred faces hovering above were nothing but simple, yet terrifying, fabrications of her own nightmares That metallic taste of blood coating her tongue was of pure imagination and Reign was convinced she would close and open her eyes at any moment and find herself in her mediocre apartment in Brooklyn.

She would be greeted with the water leak stain from above and the sound of the washer on its spin cycle.

She was wrong.

The room she was in remained intact. It was clean yet reeked with a vulgar mixture of medicine and ammonia.

Then there were the voices, oh the voices, they echoed here and there sometimes shouting. Although Reign couldn't clearly make out what they were saying, she knew they were anxious about something urgent.

A sudden searing pain in her abdomen caused her to shriek.

This isn't a dream.

An abrupt panic swept through her system. One she couldn't control. To lie there was to accept her fate, which she couldn't do.

Not yet.

Not like this.

No matter how she struggled, she couldn't move her limbs. Was it at the fault of her weak muscles and frazzled nerves? Or was she unwillingly strapped to the frigid surgical table underneath?

The prospect no longer mattered as she watched a man tentatively place a breathing mask firmly over her mouth and nose. Her surrounding vision began to darken, she could only focus on his eyes. They were unexpectedly gentle, sorrowful in fact.

He began to count backward from ten.

"Ten...nine...eight..."

The peace she felt was almost immediate.

"Seven...six...five..."

Her fingers and toes tingled, and she had the strange sensation of being airborne.

"Four...three...two..."

The voices faded as her head filled with fluffed feathers. Was this what death felt like? If it was, perhaps it wasn't so horrible to die like this.

To die in peace.

"One..."

Darkness embraced Reign in its careful clutches.

***

When Reign reopened her eyes, she was greeted by a throbbing headache, a horribly sore throat, and the inability to move her arms and legs. The anxiety she felt was beginning to grow. She felt lethargic.

Think, Reign, you aren't dead. Where are you?

The fluorescent lights above weren't as blinding as they'd been before. This wasn't the same room. A recovery room, perhaps? If she were, at least it meant whatever they'd needed to put her under for was a success.

Reign was relieved to be alone, or she thought she was alone. She was quickly disproven by the sound of ruffling papers from across the room. Someone spoke, offering her relief.

It wasn't the voice she feared.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked. His voice had a pleasant tone to it, soft and warm.

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as he scooted backward to stand. While he walked closer, she could finally see his face. His eyes were a soft brown. They matched the color she saw before slipping under anesthesia.

Reign remained silent.

Removing a small penlight from the pocket of his scrubs and flashed a painful light into her eyes.

"Good. Perfect, actually," he murmured, scratching something onto his clipboard.

Once the blurred stars in her vision disappeared, she took the time to study his features. The man was young, in his mid-thirties, with a dark buzzed hairstyle and a rich, deep bronze complexion.

A handsome man.

The young doctor appeared as someone she should trust, but if she could, wouldn't he have removed her restraints by now?

She spoke, and it came out as if she'd been gargling a box of nails, "What did you do to me?"

His brows knitted together. "I'd like to say I saved your life, but if you're here, it wasn't much of a gift."

"Here?"

"I was trying to repair the damage done by a bullet. You had already lost so much blood and it wasn't stopping," he paused, "How much do you remember of the incident?" He asked as he began checking her remaining vitals.

She was suddenly very aware she was in only a patient gown. She wished she could have pulled the fabric further down to cover her naked legs.

"I remember...I was running. Just...running and...a voice."

The voice she heard before the trunk slammed shut. Whose was it?

"...Steve."

"Who's Steve?" He asked, his eyes filled with a confused curiosity.

A well of emotion filled her chest as the still crisp image of his face entered the forefront of her thoughts. The attentive kindness in his voice had left her feeling, well, significant. It was something more than butterflies in her stomach.

"I don't think it matters anymore," she mumbled.

It wasn't like she'd ever see him again.

She felt the cool, smooth texture of his latex gloves against her ankle as the good doctor unfastened her restraints, one by one, letting them fall away. He very carefully adjusted the hospital bed, sitting her up at a Fowler's position. Much to Reign's surprise.

Offering a small smile, he said, "I see no need for restraints, but I do recommend staying in bed. You need the time to heal."

"Heal, right. Once I heal what will happen to me?"

His dark features set into an apprehensive scowl, and she knew it was an answer she wasn't ready to hear. The image of dirty cells and steel bars entered her mind as she tried to envision the prison she was about to enter.

"You'll stay here for as long as I can keep you." That was the only detail he gave, and she wasn't sure if it was more frightening than if he'd told her what to expect.

"That's comforting." At least she knew she was still capable of sarcasm. Even if it was scarce.

Reign could now see her surroundings in detail and was correct in her assumption it was some form of a recovery room. It was small, bluish in color, and dimmed. A relaxed setting. White cabinets, which she assumed were filled with various medical supplies, hung on the wall just above a spotless counter with one sink. Aside from her bed, the cardiac monitor, and an IV pole the room itself was impeccably neat without a fleck of rust to be seen.

It wasn't what she'd expected.

"Where am I exactly?" She asked, looking over to see he was writing down her BPM rate on his clipboard.

Glancing up, he pursed his lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid that's classified information."

"Classified? Is your name classified too?"

"No," he broke a smile, "My name is Dr. Thompson, but you can call me Noah if you'd like."

Reign nodded. "Alright, Noah. You aren't like the man who chased me through the city. Why are you working for people like him?"

"Let's just say I'm not like them..."

Reading between the lines, Reign had an assumption of what he meant by that. "Are you a Mutant?"

"I'm afraid I've been told not to answer that question from the patients here. Although, I can neither confirm...nor deny."

A sudden thought crossed her mind. Were they watching them? Listening to their every word? If they were, it made sense why he was so hesitant to surrender information. If he was a Mutant, then he was just as much a prisoner here as she was.

A prisoner with a medical degree and a purpose.

"I think I understand," she finally responded, "I'll keep my questions to a minimum."

Noah's lips curved into another smile. "Thank you." He cleared his throat, finished what he was writing and set it aside. "Now, let's check on those stitches."

He calmly approached her bedside. With his long fingers, he carefully lifted her gown. Aware she wore only her undergarments beneath, Reign panicked and reached to stop his hand.

Heat flared in her cheeks, consuming her face and burning her ears, but she was grateful for his pause. It gave her a moment to ease into the concept of being touched.

After a tense moment passed, he cautiously pulled back the thin fabric of her gown, revealing the gauze bandages that hid the stitch work underneath. It was spotted with leftover blood, but from the expression on his features, she assumed everything was in working order.

"Why he felt the need to pull the trigger, I'll never understand," Noah said, removing the bandaging and replacing it with a fresh clean one.

"He's a massive douche who lacks people skills," she said bluntly, hoping her words would be recorded in the record.

Noah lightly laughed at her words. "Be careful with your words. This isn't a place where you want to make enemies. If I had any words of advice for you, when you are released, make friends. Alright?"

Reign licked her chapped lips and nodded. "Make friends. Noted."

"Try to get some rest," he said, "If you need anything, you can press the call button on the side of your bed and I'll be here. The bathroom is just through there." He gestured to an open doorway with no door that lead to darkness where she assumed a toilet was.

Noah must have noted her expression because he then mentioned, "We've had issues in the past with patients and locked doors," his face fell, "They were unfortunate circumstances."

Reign cringed inwardly and quickly stuffed the gruesome thoughts into the back cage of her mind.

Something came to her attention then. She noticed a black band wrapped around her ankle. She was almost certain it was a house arrest device, but did it serve the same purpose?

"What is that?" she asked, pointing at her ankle.

Noah followed her finger and said, "It's to suppress your abilities."

If she were being honest with herself, she hardly had abilities. She couldn't levitate objects with her mind, shoot fire from her hands, or do anything of real significance. She wasn't sure how her gift worked or how to control it.

"I think they might be wasting their time," she answered flatly.

Frowning, Noah shook his head. "Whatever you do, don't tell them that. Duds don't last long around here."

Duds? As in Mutants with unimportant abilities, she assumed. To think, going through the trauma of being captured just to be thrown down the garbage disposal because she was a Dud.

"I'll check on you in just a little while," he said, before leaving the room. She heard the lock click from the outside, and a sinking fear chilled her nerves.

Reign had once wished to be given a thrill of excitement in her life. To have the chance to reach for the stars and test her own boundaries. Was this entire experience the outcome of silly childhood wishes finally coming true in the worst way possible?

Her lips puckered as she fought sudden stinging tears. In her life, she'd always said she felt helpless, hopeless even. She'd spent years digging through garbage cans, trying to avoid dirty needles. Years of watching her mother waste away in front of Let's Make a Deal with an empty liquor bottle in her hand.

Now it was clear in the two years she'd spent working her way up from her shabby lifestyle had not been her low point.

This, this exact moment of lying in a hospital bed in the recovery room of her new prison. This was her low point. Reign knew she could either lie back and give in or she could stand and fight.

Submitting would be easy, but the fight would be worth it.

NOTES

I hope you enjoyed this second chapter! It was so much fun to write.

Be sure to like and comment if you enjoyed it too!

A special thanks to my beta reader FlyingRedPanda

I'll be posting again soon, so stay tuned!

#reignandsteveforever