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pilot-of-a-cruel-machine · 6 years

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(here you go @roseredsrevenge for your prompt thingy. finally got meself a laptop. all of the story is under the cut)

"Trust me on this."

Sonya slid down the wall, her heart pounding in her chest, crumpling a piece of paper in her hands.

"Trust me on this."

Her legs ached, burned. So did her shoulders. In fact, so did everything. She had liked it better when she was numb.

"Trust me on this."

She curled up in a ball and tried to calm her breathing. Around her, all was eerily quiet. She hated that. She would rather her the sounds of everything coming crashing down around her. At least then she wouldn't have the turmoil in her head.

"Trust me on this. Please."

"I-I just don't think this is smart. I mean, the odds of it turning out alright are slim to none."

"It's… a chance."

"You don't normally believe in these things."

"No, I don't. But… I believe in this one. It's this or-- or, or something. I don't know. But we're not getting anywhere."

"I.. I just don't trust it. I'm sorry. I guess you can go ahead and do it."

"I won't do it if you aren't behind me…"

"I…"

"No?"

"I… I am. I think. I'm… doubtful."

"Really?"

"Yes. Just… please be careful."

And that had been that. And Mary had been right.

Looking back on it, Sonya wasn't sure what had made her believe also strongly in this opportunity as compared to all the others. Maybe it was how specifically it was suited to her interests and talents. Maybe it was how long-term and stable the contract had seemed.

Another image flashed in her head. A stack of money and a pencil, the picture from the flyer she had spotted. Perhaps, she had to admit, it was the money.

"You're an idiot, Sonya," she hissed under her breath. That was pointless. It wouldn't solve the problems they were having now, and it certainly wasn't going to erase two weeks of stupidity. Self-deprecation wasn't the way out, either, but damn, it felt good to let the little voice in the back of her head win for once.

Way out. Think. She had to find a way out.

She slipped farther down the wall until she was practically lying flat on the ground. She was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. What she really needed right now was a strong coffee, or maybe a nap.

No. She sat upright all of a sudden. She couldn't forget about getting out of here. Getting out, calling the police, finding Mary -- those were her top priorities.

Then, she heard the knock on the door.

***

"Where are you taking me?" Mary asked, for what must have been the eighth time. She couldn't see, and she needed to know.

"Shut up," the man leading her growled, and Mary frowned.

"Could you at least take the blindfold off?" she asked.

The man said nothing to this. Instead, he dug his fingers into her wrist, pressing right against the bones. Involuntarily, she winced, and her hand spasmed in pain. Would the man break her wrist? She wasn't sure. He had done that trick several times now, once when she tries to pull away, and the remaining few times to get her to shut up. She had concluded she wasn't getting away, but she didn't think the blindfold was required.

When the man had come to their apartment, it had been early morning, and there was no one except Mary awake to greet him.

"You're not Sonya," the man had said when she had opened the door. He was in a thin black t-shirt and black work pants. Scars crossed his lumpy, potato-like face, his thick neck, and his muscled arms. Something bulged from his hip.

Mary had shaken her head and dropped her necklace. "N-no, why?" she had asked, looking the big man up and down.

"Collectin'," he had replied gruffly.

Mary gave him another sweeping glance. "Collecting what…?" she had asked him.

The man shook her head. "She's late. Woulda thought you'd know 'bout it."

"Late for which one?" Mary's best guess was that the man was for the landlord, the electric company, or the credit card companies, but it didn't seem professional for them to send a heavily muscled, very scarred, six-foot tall man to come for debts.

"Work."

Mary had shaken her head and said, "No, she doesn't have to go in for another couple of hours. She's sleeping right now." She pointed over her shoulder, towards the hallway. "It's too early to wake her yet. She needs her sleep."

The man seemed to smile at that, for a line cut across the boiled potato face. "Does she, now." He looked over the hallway. "Well, I think we'll leave her a little reminder for when she wakes up." He chuckled. "Yes?"

Mary had nodded. "I can tell her, or I could write her a note for--"

That was when he had grabbed her face with one hand and pulled her out of the apartment. "Have that covered, trust me," he said, slamming the door shut behind them and carting her down the stairs.

Now she was here, a blindfold around her eyes and her wrist encapsulated between the man's thick fingers, walking along a seemingly endless corridor. His footsteps echoed with the clunk of boots, and her bare feet padded near-silently on the cold tile floor. She had no idea where they were going, or even where they were, and she had less of an idea as to why.

She wasn't given much time to think on this. A door clicked open somewhere in front of her. The man dropped her hand. She twisted her head around, trying to catch a glimpse from under the blindfold. "Where--"

Her question, and her air, was cut off when the man shoved between her shoulder blades. "Climb," he grunted.

She nodded, regained her balance, and tried to make her way blind up a set of stairs.

***

When Sonya had woken up the next morning, Mary was gone. The only trace of who had taken her was a blinking light on the answering machine.

Sonya bit back her anxiety and pushed the play button.

"2304 Market. Third floor." Click.

As if a dam broke, it all came back full force.

"Oh, God, no," she breathed. "Please, God, no."

The woman on the phone line had been the same woman who had answered that day two weeks ago, when she had called for the job listings.

"Believe it or not, you're the first person to call."

"Really? I don't see why. It's a great opportunity."

"It's true, you are. Funny, isn't it? Good thing too. You'll get all the pay."

"I will?"

"Yes, of course! A talented artist like you? You'd've been paid more already. But now? All yours, my friend."

"What's the catch?"

"Maybe a little extra work. That's it, though. Well worth the salary you'll get. So what'll you say?"

"Really? That sounds--"

"Too good to be true? I can assure you, it's plenty true and all good. Trust me on this. So?"

"I'll… I'll take it."

Sonya had swallowed and shaken her head to clear the memory. She had been stupid, that was all. And now she was paying for it in that they had taken Mary. But for what? Because a few things had been late? It wasn't fair.

Complaining would get her nowhere. She should go to the police. Mary was gone now, kidnapped, and logically, that would be where she should go. It would make sense.

She grabbed her cell phone and pushed herself out of bed. She'd call as soon as she got there, as soon as she got confirmation that Mary was there. She'd been lied too before by this crew; what was to stop them from lying again?

Nothing, apparently, Sonya realized, holding the crumpled note in her hand. 6578 67th. Roof. Noon. They had tricked her into a wild goose chase, and it was already eleven thirty. There was no way she was going to make her way from Market to 67th in half an hour, and even then, it would take another ten minutes to climb the stairs, maybe six if she used the elevators. She had no car, no money for a taxi. She felt trapped her.

The knocking on the door got louder, more incessant. "Come on, Sonya. Answer me. I know you're in there."

It was the woman again, the woman without a name, the woman who puppeteered everything. Sonya bit her lip.

"You want your girlfriend, you come with me. Change of heart, you might say. Now, come on. Open the door."

She shouldn't answer the woman. Some part of her felt that automatically meant losing.

"Are you going to open the door yourself, or am I going to have to drag you out of there?"

Sonya turned away and pushed herself into a standing position, dropping the paper onto the ground as she did so. Her legs still ached from the sprint up Market Street. She had no choice.

She could always climb out the window and leave the woman without a name waiting for nothing. Perhaps it would buy her some time to get down to 67th Street. She felt like it was the safest bet.

"One."

Oh, God, she was counting. Sonya turned around and started to walk towards the window. How far was it from there to the ground?

"Two."

She quickened her pace and made it to the window. Gripping the sill beneath her fingers, she stuck her head out. Directly beneath her was a metal fire escape. Wind blew past her, whipping her hair into her eyes and making the metal staircase creak. It wouldn't be the quietest of options, but--

"Three."

It was the only option. The door clicked open, and Sonya started to climb out of the window. She was straddling the windowsill when the woman spoke again.

"Did you really think that you'd be able to get out of this so easily?"

Sonya opened her mouth to answer, but she wasn't fast enough. There was an electric buzzing, and a taser beam hit Sonya directly in the arm. Her muscles seized up immediately. She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood.

The beam stopped, her muscles relaxed, and she slipped off the windowsill onto the fire escape. The last thing she heard was the clang of her head hitting the railing, and then all was black.

***

When Mary climbed out of the stairwell, a gust of cool air blew right across her face. She felt strands of hair slip out of her braid and brush against her cheek. She was outside.

Noise drifted up to her: cars honking, people shouting, dogs barking. She was on a roof.

The man shoved her shoulders again. This time, she fell, a sharp drop onto the rough, gravel covered roof. Sharp stones bit into her face and arms. She winced and tried to roll over. It hurt like God knows what.

"Get up," the man growled; at least, that's what it sounded like, at least. He had made more of a grunt that Mary had tried to put into words. He grabbed her arm roughly and tugged, wrenching her arm as he did so. She cried out in pain.

That was a mistake. The man grabbed her face with his other hand and pinched to keep her mouth closed. He pinned her arm behind her back until there was a sharp pop, accompanied by a wave of pain. "Shut up," he hissed. He was so close to her that she could taste the cigarette smoke on his breath. Meekly, she nodded. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Oh, Lord, it hurt. Make it stop hurting.

She felt herself stumbling to keep up with the man, who was now dragging her. Forcefully, she was dumped into a sitting position. For one, horrible second, she felt like she was falling.

The man grabbed her arm and straightened her. She was on the edge of the roof.

"We'll take your blindfold off soon," the man said. "And then you'll understand."

Mary shivered. There was nothing left to do now but pray.

***

Sonya came to twenty minutes later, the woman without a name standing over her, shaking her head. "You're out of time," she said, clicking her tongue. "Or you will be if you don't get up."

Sonya opened her mouth to say something. All that came out was a pained moan. "W-what do you want?" she said when she could speak again.

"You'll find out soon enough. Or perhaps not, if you don't get up. But if you stay here, you'll both suffer needlessly. And where will you be then?" The woman shrugged. "Make your choice."

Sonya sat up and a wave of dizziness washed over her. "W-why?" she stammered, pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes. "What did I--"

"Shh." The woman crouched and pressed a finger to Sonya's lips. "You'll find out soon enough, I said." She rose. "Come on. I'll be nice and drive you." With that, she turned around and walked off, boot heels clicking on the floor.

Sonya sat there in disbelief, still not quite in reality. What was happening anymore? It was like logic had dissolved through her fingers.

"Come on, Sonya. I'll be nice. Trust me on this," the woman called from the doorway.

Sonya, using the wall as a brace, slid to a standing position. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and keep her balance. When that failed, she pressed her fingers against the rough brick of the wall and lurched towards where the woman without a name was.

The woman smiled. "Hurry up now," she said lightly, as if it was just a walk in the park.

Sonya nodded and picked up her pace as fast as her spinning head could allow.

***

Mary heard the man shift next to her. "Huh. It's noon," she heard him mutter. "They shoulda been there by now."

"What happens at noon?" Mary asked, dropping her necklace from her mouth. It was too dark beneath this blindfold. She hated this

"Nothin' important."

Mary bit her lip. "What happens now?"

"You'll see. Shut up."

Mary resumed chewing on her necklace.

A few moments passed in silence, and then the door burst open. "She's here!" a woman called.

The man ripped the blindfold off of Mary, and all the light came rushing in at once.

"Sonya!" she cried, upon noticing her girlfriend at the doorway.

***

Sonya was leaning heavily on the woman without a name's shoulder, her fingers digging so deep into the woman that it must have hurt her. She felt exhausted, scared -- even so, she saw Mary across the roof, and something fresh opened inside her. "Mary--" she responded, outstretching her arm.

Mary was on her feet and looked about to run towards her, but the man behind her was shadowing her and grabbed her shoulder to hold her back.

"I-I'm here," Sonya whispered to no one.

The woman without a name laughed. "Yes, we are. But you're also late." She sighed. "Again." She shrugged Sonya off of her shoulder without a second thought. Sonya's legs gave out beneath her.

"A-again?" Sonya asked, squinting up at the woman. "What do you mean, again?"

"This man said he was collecting--" Mary began.

"Quiet," the man snapped.

"--and that you were late, but he didn't say for what--"

"Quiet!"

"Hush," the woman without a name said, waving her hand. "Both of you. I think she deserves to know."

Sonya stared. "Late…? For what…?" she asked, but the woman whirled on her, and she knew right away that that was the wrong question.

"Don't play dumb," the woman hissed. "You know exactly what you're late for. You've been late for a week now." She tapped her foot impatiently.

"For a week…?"

And then it hit her. This was about work. This was about the impossible workload that she had been practically forcefed.

"What do you mean, you can't finish on time?"

"It's… It's too much, please. Can't you extend the deadline?"

"This is what you signed up for. Didn't you agree to this?"

"I-I agreed to a little bit but not… I'm drowning here."

"You can do it. I know you can."

"I can't. I'm trying, but I just. I just can't."

"No, you can. You will. You have to. Or else."

Sonya hadn't pressed about the "or else". Now, she wished she had.

"I couldn't have," she said. "I couldn't! I was trying and-- I just fell apart. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just lighten the load, please, please I'm begging--"

The woman shut her up with a glare of iron. "And whose fault is that?"

Sonya didn't answer. She wasn't sure what was the correct one.

"It was you, Sonya. It was you and you alone."

Sonya shook her head. "But--"

"No buts." The woman without a name snapped her fingers. "Tell you what. I'll lighten the load. But!" She held up a hand. "You have to do something for me."

Sonya nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the man tightening her grip on Mary's shoulder.

"Push her off."

Time seemed to slow down.

Sonya slumped even lower than she was. "W-what?" she stammered. "Push her off…?" She trailed off into silence.

"You know." The woman pointed to Mary. "Push her off."

Sonya turned to face her girlfriend head on, meeting Mary's eyes for a second before her eyes wandered again. Sonya bit her lip. "Why?"

The woman without a name crossed her arms. "This is your or else. This is your mistake." She snapped her fingers again. "You have no one to blame but yourself. Do it."

Sonya shivered, tears pricking at the back of her vision. She rose slowly. "I-I-" she stammered, walking towards her girlfriend.

Mary looked down at her. "Sonya, what are you doing?" she whispered.

Sonya put her hand on Mary's chest. There, she stopped. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Come on, Sonya," the woman without a name said.

Sonya faltered. Her hand dropped.

"Sonya, please tell me what you're doing. I can't hear you from over there…"

Sonya sniffed. "I… I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I-I…"

Unable to continue speaking, she dropped her head against Mary's chest. Mary rested her hand on the back of Sonya's head. God, that just made Sonya want to cry even more. She couldn't just push her off the building. She couldn't do that to anyone, but not, never, could she kill Mary.

The woman muttered something that Sonya couldn't make out. "Oh, come on. It's not that hard. You've done it before," she said.

Sonya shook her head. Mary asked, "What do you mean, you've done it before?"

Sonya bit her lip. "I don't…" She trailed off, part of her remembering something, something about an accident of some sort.

"Now you've got it. So? Can't you?"

She shook her head again.

The woman gave an impatient huff. "Fine. If you won't do it, I'll do it myself," she growled.

Sonya looked over just in time to see the woman storming towards her. She sidestepped and dropped her arm, thinking that was what the woman wanted.

The woman without a name's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You didn't think it'd be that easy," she whispered.

She grabbed Sonya's hand and lunged forward. Sonya felt Mary's chest under her hand, and she wanted to scream, she wanted to fight back, but only a second later there was nothing but air, and Mary was gone.

Sonya pulled herself free of the woman's grip, leaned over the side. She clutched at the edge of the roof and tried to scream, but no sound came out, and she wasn't sure if there wasn't any or if she couldn't hear anything anymore.

She watched Mary falling, falling, falling, her arm outstretched towards Sonya, and then she hit the ground, and her arm went limp, and she wasn't moving. Oh, God, she wasn't moving.

Sonya felt her legs go numb and the scraping brick on her knees and then she didn't feel anything except this pitiful sadness, like something had swallowed her whole. She didn't even realize she was crying until she buried her face in her arms and pulled back and it was wet. Oh, God, no. No, no, no. No. No.

She stared at her hands, trying to breathe calmly, think rationally. Yet she was the last person who had touched Mary, the last hand on her, the hand that pushed her off. Even if she hadn't been in control, it had been her to do it.

She balled her hands into fists.

There was a hand on her shoulder. "What a shame," the woman said, except her voice was different. "If only you hadn't been so foolish." Her voice was familiar. "She trusted you, you know. She trusted you with every fiber of her being -- and you betrayed her like this." The woman clicked her tongue. Why was her voice familiar? "I thought better of you." It was like she'd heard it every day of her life. "Didn't think you were so selfish. And now you killed her because of it."

Sonya plugged her ears.

"This is all your fault. Trust me, Sonya. Or shouldn't you trust me?"

She could still hear the woman.

"Look at me, Sonya."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Look at me."

Sonya gave in.

She turned her head.

She looked right into a mirror. A smiling, twisted mirror. She was staring at herself.

Her reflection patted her shoulder, flashed a larger, worse smile, and rose. "Come on. The least you can do is make amends, as best as you can right now." The woman -- the reflection -- she laughed, without any happiness. "There's nothing to fix the past…"

Sonya shivered, her eyes welling with tears. But it wasn't me, she wanted to say.

She didn't bear to open her mouth.

"Yes, yes it was," the reflection said.

***

She woke up crying.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the chair like it was her last lifeline. Blood roared in her ears with the pace of her heart. She felt completely drained of anything.

"O-oh, thank God, it was a dream," she said to no one but herself. "I-I… Oh, thank God…" She grabbed at her shirt in relief, as if to physically will her heart to slow down. "What a… relief…"

Then, she heard the beeping, rhythmic and always the same. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It hadn't all been a dream.

She sat up straighter in the chair, looking over her shoulder. Moonlight shone from through the curtains. It must have been at least eleven at night, if not later than that. Visiting hours were over hours ago. Why hadn't anyone woken her up?

Chewing her lip, she risked a glance over to the bed. Christ. Mary was still there, asleep, just as she had been for almost two weeks now. She was trapped there, unmoving, but still alive, the doctors said, still alive, almost waiting for the right time to come back. Two weeks…

Two weeks since the accident. Since the fall. Since Sonya had taken her up there, to the stained glass clock tower, and they had sat in the window just above it, which was open, according to the guard, eating dollar store chocolate chip cookies and watching the sunset. Two weeks since something had slipped, and down Mary had fallen. When Sonya found her again, she was nearly crushed between two huge, twitching gears, and she wasn't moving.

They had been warned that something would happen. But the guard told them it was going to be safe. She'd told them about the safety precautions, and led them to the spot on the sill where they had sat, and watched the colors, safe from the rest of the world. Mary had even told Sonya it was the "perfect date".

And then she was gone.

Sonya's hands were shaking. She hadn't pushed Mary. She hadn't moved at all. And yet, Mary had fallen, and now she was in suspension between life and death, and Sonya shouldn't have brought her up there at all, really, despite being allowed, despite seeing how beautiful it was up there alone first, despite spending hours in the company of herself with a book or her sketchpad, despite the guard saying that she rarely allowed two people in there, but this was an exception, despite, despite, despite...

Sonya might not have pushed Mary herself, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible for it.

She grabbed the armrest to try and calm the quaking in her fingers. She inched closer to the bed, leaning her cheek against the bed guards on the edge of it. Her eyes traced the lines of Mary's face, how peaceful she looked, despite being in a coma. She reached her hand over towards Mary's, and ran her thumb along the back. Thank God for small favors, it was still warm.

"Please, come back to me," Sonya whispered. She squeezed Mary's hand, trying to get a response. Nothing happened.

"Please, please, Mary, I-I'm sorry. I didn't know what would… If I'd… If I could have…"

She stopped, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"I wouldn't have taken you, I-I promise, I'll never do it again, I-I just…"

She was on the verge of crying again.

"You can pick the place next time. I promise. All you. You'll come up with something nice…"

Her breath hitched.

"Please, come back to me…"

Pause.

"I love you…"

The only response was the steady beep, beep, beep-- of the heart monitor.

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