Chapter Text
There was nothing but darkness surrounding him, it had been like that for what felt like a really long time. He could feel a bunch of small wounds covering about half his body and a good portion of his face as well. The feeling of the wounds and the hissing pain whenever he accidentally brushed over one of them and the general stinging feeling of the wounds trying to heal.
The fact that the air around him felt cold and moist which made his clothing feel clammy didn’t help the healing process at all. He shook his head slightly in an attempt at stopping his long, and at this point very greasy hair, from getting in his wounds. Anything to keep the hair from sticking to the wounds for too long, because it would be so much worse to do it later.
He still had no clue why he was here, but he did have a clue as to how he got here. Mr. Bouchard- wait didn’t he tell him to call him Elias? It felt weird to call him that but ultimately it didn’t really matter. He would sometimes come here and give him some food and water, he wouldn’t speak to him or acknowledge that John was even there. It was miserable down here.
The darkness, however, gave him time for one thing; listening. He could hear Elias coming for what felt like hours before the door would be pushed open. It was like he and Elias were alone in the world, a really shitty world. He had already attempted to get away multiple times but it had all been fruitless. No matter what he planned it seemed like Elias had been prepared for it like John's attempt at escape had been juvenile. The only sounds he ever heard were: Elias's very confident steps, his own breath, and the fabric of his clothes when he moved. He could talk and make sounds of his own, he had done that in the beginning. He had spent the first long time yelling and screaming for help and cursing at Elias when he first realised the man wasn’t there to help him. That felt like a long time ago now though, at this point the silence was drowning him. It was pointless to try to do anything against this, all there was the darkness and quiet.
A loud and very demanding knock jolted him awake, he had fallen asleep. It wasn’t like he had any idea about what time it was here anyway. He turned his attention towards where the sound came from and heard the sound of a paper plate being pushed across the floor towards him. The sound of a fragile plastic cup being sat on the stone floor followed soon after, the cup had been put down with too much force because John clearly heard some of its contents fall on the floor. In the little opening in the door, he could see the eyes of his captor, and they had eye contact for a brief moment before it was shut. They were so incredibly white but the irises were a bone-chilling gray. He just sat there staring at where the tiny opening had been till the sound of Elias's steps had stopped being audible.
Time feels weird when you’re alone, especially in complete darkness. John had at this point thought about that quite a bit. He couldn’t sleep even though he constantly felt tired because there was nothing to tell him what time it was. His body was aching all the time and sometimes it felt like the mystery wounds were healing slower than they should, but maybe that was because he kept accidentally getting his hair in them or grinding his clothes against them. He had no idea if the healing actually was slow or not because how should he be able to tell how long had passed? He didn’t even know when and how he had gotten them. Did he have them before being called into Elias’s office, wouldn’t he remember if he did? They were probably Eliases fault even if he didn’t really understand what would warrant them. How could seemingly drilling a bunch of tiny holes in someone's skin help with kidnapping them? He couldn’t really figure it out but it was one of few things he could spend his time pondering about.
Sometimes he would also think about his coworkers, where did they think he was? Did they think he quit, died, or something else? Or had they just quietly forgotten about him as another person had gotten the head archivist position instead. He almost didn’t wanna think about that because he knew he didn't deserve that job. He was fully aware of the fact that others at the institute were so much more qualified than him, even though he didn’t really want to admit it. He wanted to believe that some of his coworkers would be out looking for him, but he also doubted that it was more than wishful thinking on his part. Loads of people had suddenly just been gone at the institute and no one ever really said anything, especially if they had any connection to the archive. He wasn’t really sure whether or not he should count himself among people in the archive as he hadn’t even gotten to work a day in the archive but had still gotten the position.
Suddenly he could hear steps far away again, but was this Elias’s steps? These sounded different to the ones he had gotten used to hearing, less confident. Whoever or whatever this was dragged on their feet and- was that the sound of them dragging something across the wall? John got up and put his ear to the door in an attempt to hear it better. It couldn’t be Elias, no way it could be Elias. They sure weren’t scared to make noises because once in a while, especially as they got close he could hear them make small scared or surprised yelps. He was just about to call out for them before he heard a second pair of steps in the distance, confident steps.