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Rusted bloody chains sat on the cold ground of a small musty cell. Mold grew through the cracks in the walls, spreading every time it rained. When it did rain, the water would leak through the cracks, forming puddles on the uncleaned concrete. The air was stale and cold. The putrid smell of coppery blood and mold was only made worse by the old, broken toilet in the corner that had long since been rendered useless. To the side was a rusted metal bed. It creaked and groaned with every slight movement, meant to drive any captive insane. The mattress was as thin as a yoga mat. The sheets had blood and dirt crusted onto it. The blanket was coarse and thin, offering no comfort from the chilly air that always permeated the room. It too was covered in grime.
The hinges of the cell door creaked every time someone opened or closed it. Almost as if the door was nice enough to warn its inhabitant every time a person entered the space. There were newly installed fluorescent lights that still managed to flicker every once in a while. Almost as if the lights wanted to fit into its dismal surroundings. The new lights were a curse to the cell’s inhabitants. It revealed the crimson tinged bedding and floors that were previously hidden in the dark. It reminded the inhabitants of just how vile the cell really was.
In that cell, the most recent occupant was shackled to the wall. Although rusted and old, the bonds served their purpose. The chains were long enough to allow its captives room to walk to the bed and the toilet, though the latter was useless and had been so for years.
The captive’s name was Vanessa Vonmuiner, and she had been there for a month. Over the course of a month, her once silky, tame hair had become knotted and frizzy. Her skin paled to the color of paper and the amount of weight she lost from starvation alone made her look like a different person entirely. Her ever thinning face looked like life had been sucked out of her. Blotches of purple, black and blue decorated her frail skin, and scars that would never erase were etched into her body; a dreadful reminder of the horrors she endured that would last a lifetime. Newer cuts vibrantly stood out. The red color popped out in comparison to the pale color of her skin.
Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert and she ached for her thirst to be quenched. She knew she would always get water. It was just a matter of if she was good or not. During that cold winter night, she wondered what she had done wrong. Her captors had not visited her once. Not to give her water, punishments or food. Not that she was truly expecting to get fed. The men who held her captive had a system. They gave her enough food to survive, no more and no less.
The lack of proper nutrition made it easy to break Vanessa. Her body was weak, barely functioning on the rations they gave her. She felt like her whole body was a bruise. She was a “walking bruise” as she liked to put it. So, even if she wanted to fight back, she couldn’t. There was the case, however, that she wouldn’t fight back even if they fed her adequately. Who knows what cruel punishments awaited her if she fought back? She never wanted it to get to that point.
It was strange. She couldn’t remember a time that she had been left to her own devices for this long; not when she was good, at least, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember how she messed up so badly they would leave her for one whole day.
The next day came and went with still no sight from her captors. It would be the third day, though she was none the wiser. The cell she was locked in had no windows. There was no way for her to tell if it was day or night. Usually she’d be able to tell when her captors would come in and give her food; without them, she was lost.
Just as she was about to lay down to rest her aching body, the ground shook. Reverberating sounds of shouting and gunshots could be heard all the way down in her little cell. Panic gripped at her chest as she made haste to hide under the bed.
Vanessa had never been down there before, and she never wanted to again. There was a foul smell that burned her nostrils, cobwebs tickled her mutilated body in the most unpleasant way. She didn’t want to stay in sight, though, so she stayed hidden. Absently, she hoped that there were no spiders hiding alongside her.
When the door burst open, it let out a shrill and deafening screech. Vanessa held her breath, not recognizing the heavy footsteps of the person entering the room. Her entire body froze when she heard the person’s voice.
“Is anyone in here?” The voice wasn’t the same as her captors. It was gentle yet still deep. He spoke with authority, yet he managed to sound gentle. It was nothing like the commanding tones that she was used to hearing.
Still, she didn’t know who this man was. She didn’t want to give herself up. How could she trust this person to be any better than the men she was captured by?
His heavy boots thudded against the grimy concrete as he neared the bed. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest. A hand entered her line of sight and tugged on the chains. Vanessa wasn’t sure if he did that to be cruel or if it was of genuine curiosity; whatever the case, it hurt. The metal rubbed against her raw wrists, making her whimper. She tried so hard to hold it in so that maybe this strange man would go away, but she was unsuccessful.
“Hello? Can you come out?” Once again, it sounded so gentle and kind. But she knew better. His question wasn’t a question. Not really anyway. It was a command. And she would be punished if she didn’t obey. She knew how things worked. Vanessa crawled out from under the bed. The concrete scraped at her elbows and knees as if she needed any more injuries to add to her beaten body. When she was out in plain sight, she prepared to be slapped or punched for hiding.
“Oh, god… Nessa,” the man said, “what did they do to you?” His tone sounded as if he had been punched in the gut. As if he had seen something truly heart-breaking. Vanessa didn’t realize it was aimed towards her state. She hadn’t had someone care about her in such a long time.
The man’s eyes looked over her small figure. Her arms looked as if they could snap like a twig and her legs weren’t much better. Even though she was wearing a shirt, he could see her ribs poking out. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. Perhaps the worst were the angry red marks that marred her skin.
“Let’s get you outta here, yeah?” The man reached towards her to help her up. Vanessa recoiled. Though she hadn’t dared to look at the man’s face, she saw the calloused hand that was significantly larger than her own. It was hands like those that had hurt her. Rough and brutal hands that only served to hurt. She didn’t even realise she was crying.
“Can you walk on your own, Nessa?” She didn’t know how the man knew her nickname. No one there used her nickname. No one except her friends called her that.
Not wanting the man’s hands on her body for as long as possible she said, “Yes, sir.”
Verbal responses were expected in situations like this. She knew it well. She also knew that she should respect this man no matter if he was a part of the men that had captured her or not. Playing it safe kept her alive this long, and she didn’t want to risk anything.
Vanessa stood up on shaking legs. It was as if she were a baby deer taking her first steps. The man had to hold himself back from catching her when she swayed on her feet. All he wanted to do was pick her up and take her far away. He heard his friends shout at him, “C’mon, Rogers, let’s go!”
She flinched again, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the voice or the pain. With the most gentle voice he could muster, Steve told her that they needed to leave.
Vanessa wasn’t sure why this man was taking her or even where he was going to take her. He seemed familiar. The name she had heard one of the others call him was so familiar yet also so strange. She watched his boots move to the door and did her best to follow, she really did. Despite the ringing in her ears and the black spots appearing in her vision, she kept stumbling after him. Faltering step after step, she made it to freedom, freedom from that ugly, disgusting cell. A wave of nausea crashed over her as she strained herself to keep up with the man’s long strides. She didn’t dare tell the man, Rogers, that she was struggling to keep up or that she was feeling like this. She didn’t want to make him angry.
The dark gray hallway blurred into one cohesive unit. A blob of blue in the middle, which her delirious mind realized must have been Rogers. Before they got too far, Vanessa’s knees buckled and her eyes rolled back. She didn’t even register falling to the floor. She was even passed out when she hit her head on the concrete floor.
Steve noticed it too late. He heard the thump and turned around. Vanessa was lying on the floor, her head beginning to bleed, only adding to the blood that was already caked onto the floor.
He ran to collect her in his arms. Rushing to get her to the jet, he spoke to her. “Vanessa? Hey, please, please be okay. Can you hear me? C’mon, don’t leave me like this. Please, you’re gonna be okay, I got you, you’re safe now.”