Chapter Text
Stiles groaned softly as he woke. His neck felt stiff when he moved and his mouth felt like it was on fire. His throat felt swollen when he swallowed and he whimpered involuntarily at the pain. He shifted, moving to rub at his eyes, and he gasped out a strangled yelp when he felt a harsh shock of electricity zip through his bound wrists and up his arms, causing his muscles to seize painfully. He hastily shoved himself backward, letting out a rough, shuddering breath when the pain quickly eased.
He blinked his eyes open, his vision blurred and hazy. He squinted, trying to see his surroundings through the thick fog. He huffed a bit, trying to shift his body without jostling his arms too much. His chest was heaving when he finally settled, his heart thundering wildly in his chest as he fought to breathe through the pain, trying to stay awake.
C’mon, Stiles. You can do it. Slowly.
Before he could do anything more, a door opened, a sliver of light peeking through the dark room.
“Ah! You’re awake! That’s really good.”
He startled at the voice, his eyes flitting quickly around the room, his breath stuttering in his chest as he tried to push himself into the corner of the bed he was cuffed to. He hunched in on himself, his eyes filled with tears.
“Woah, honey, you need to breathe. I’m not going to hurt you.” The woman held up her hands as she approached slowly, looking concerned. “Honey, breathe. Your heart rate is through the roof!” She exclaimed, hurrying over to the side of the bed.
She quickly began fiddling with what looked like a heart monitor, quieting its frantic beeping. Stiles whimpered again, curling in on himself as much as he could, his body jerking as another flash of electricity zipped through him. He watched as the woman began pushing buttons on the monitor and grabbing supplies, flailing a bit when she turned and took a step closer to him.
She sighed, a worried frown on her face. “I need to take your blood pressure, hon. Can you let me do that?” She asked, her voice quiet as if she were trying to calm him down. “I don’t want to have to sedate you again. I can’t get an accurate reading if you’re sedated. It’s already been four days.” She huffed, reaching out to tug him closer, fitting the cuff over his bicep.
“Relax, sweetie, you’re doing really well,” she said quietly, rubbing his arm as if she were trying to sooth him. Stiles whimpered but stayed as still as he could, his heart still thundering in his chest. He winced as the cuff tightened around his arm, his eyes flicking around the room. His eyes caught on the window next to the door, which was covered with what looked like plastic, large, bold text emblazoned on the other side. It looked backward to Stiles, and the way it was tilted made it even harder to read, but if he squinted, he could barely make out the words ‘CAUTION: SOLD, UNTRAINED’, followed by a rather large number that Stiles didn’t have the energy to read.
"There we go, just breathe," the nurse murmured absently, her focus still on the monitor. She turned, pulling the thin hospital blanket away from Stiles’ shaking form. He curled tighter into himself, trembling. He was naked save for a pair of thin black briefs, and his skin prickled with goosebumps as the woman’s eyes tracked down his body. She turned to write something down in his file, but she quickly looked back up, leaning closer to Stiles. She reached forward, pushing at the waistband of his briefs, frowning. The nurse's expression shifted from concern to something much more guarded, and she reached into her pocket, leaving the room in a rush.
“I can’t–should–ave hit him–No–Chris–do that–boy–scars,” The nurses voice was barely audible on the other side of the door, but he could hear a few of the words she was saying, her voice sounding like it was being filtered through static. “W–ake h–es– concussion–Chri–Now or–” Stiles held his breath when he couldn’t hear her voice anymore, watching the door like a hawk.
A few long moments later, the nurse returned, this time flanked on both sides by two men in black suits, glasses and an earpiece each. Stiles couldn’t help but notice that there was a gun on each man's hip. Stiles’ heart rate spiked, and the nurse hurried over to silence the monitor when it started to beep wildly.
“Lori–” One of the men started to speak, but the nurse – er, Lori, Stiles supposes – shushed him.
“You said you’d be quiet .” She huffed, all but stomping her feet in her clear annoyance. The man quickly shut up, holding his hands up in surrender. Lori turned, grabbing the chart from the foot of the bed. She flipped it open and read through it, making notes in some places. After a while, she closed the chart and turned toward Stiles, a frown on her face.
“We need to move him.”
Lori looked absolutely furious, spinning around in her spot toward the men. “We will do no such thing. You and I both know what Chris will do if that happens.” She didn’t yell, but Stiles thought maybe she was scarier this way. The looks on both of the men's faces said so, at least.
“You see that sign?” She gestured toward the window with her hand, the other on her hip. “That alone means that we have no authority here. You may leave now.” She turned back around and Stiles shrunk back at the intensity of the anger on her face. She ignored Stiles, instead moving to take the stickers from the heart monitor off his chest. The men made no move to leave and Lori rolled her eyes so hard her eyes looked white.
“I said, you may leave now.” She growled at the men through gritted teeth, not even bothering to look at them. She only resumed what she was doing once the door opened and closed, signaling their departure. She didn’t speak as she worked, quickly taking off all of the wires and medical equipment attached to his body and setting it aside. Stiles stayed as still as he could, slowing his breathing as much as he could, hoping he wouldn’t make her as angry as she was a few minutes ago. She turned to him as she pulled on a pair of gloves, pulling a metal tray to the edge of the bed next to her.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’m just going to give you some medicine to help you sleep.” She said softly, grabbing an empty syringe from the tray. Stiles whimpered softly, but he didn’t dare speak. He watched as she picked up a small vial and began filling the syringe, her head tilted to the side a bit as she checked the dosage. Once she was sure it was correct, she turned back toward Stiles and reached for the IV bag that was hooked up to his arm. She quickly administered the sedative, smiling down at him before she squeezed the bag gently.
Stiles blinked as his vision fogged over, his head lolling to the side. He tugged at the bindings of his arms to try and keep awake, but his body jerked wildly from the shocks.
“Shh, honey, don’t fight it. You’ll be okay.” She whispered, holding his arms still. Stiles whimpered, trying to pull himself from her hold, but his body felt weak and the world was tilting on its axis. Eventually the sedative won the fight and he was pushed into a dreamless sleep.
–
When Stiles woke up again, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t tied to a hospital bed anymore. He flexed his fingers, pulling them up in front of his face. He winced when he saw the electrical burn marks around his wrists that spider webbed up his arms. His hands were wrapped in gauze, but he could feel the burns when he moved them.
He let his hands rest in his lap as he looked around the room. It was similar to the room he was in before, but this room was brighter. It was smaller, and the small, dingy cot he was sitting on was up against the wall opposite from the door. There was a large mirror next to the door, but Stiles knew it was probably a two-way mirror. Next to the cot was a small table with a notebook and a red pen on top. There was a lamp in the corner next to the door, but when Stiles went to turn it on, nothing happened. He tried the door next, but of course it was locked.
Cursing quietly to himself, Stiles turned back toward the cot with a frown. He reached for the notebook, thumbing through it quickly. A small slip of paper fell from the back of the notebook, and Stiles quickly set the notebook aside and grabbed the stray paper from the floor with a frown. Unfolding it, he realized it must be a receipt. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes tightly to push away the tears. He didn’t have time for tears.
His head snapped toward the door when he heard footsteps outside the room. He quickly shoved the paper back into the back of the notebook and set it back onto the table, pushing himself back onto the cot with a wince when the action caused his hands to burn. He clutched them to his chest as he tilted his head toward the door, trying to hear what was going on.
He yelped a bit when the door suddenly opened, a man in scrubs walking in with a tray of food. “Hello. Eat up. This will be your only meal today.”
Stiles frowned and looked toward the tray. It looked like a piece of toast and fruit salad, which would have been fine, except for the fact that it had kiwi in it. Stiles is allergic to kiwi. “U-uhm…” Stiles winces at how rough his voice sounds, but he continues after he clears his throat, “S-sir, I can’t eat this,” he whispers, flinching back when the man turns toward him.
“Why ever not? It’s perfectly good food.” The man sounds annoyed, and Stiles whimpers.
“W-well, I’m allergic t-to kiwi,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around his knees after tucking them against his chest. The man frowns, looking through the papers in his arms.
“I apologize. I was not informed.” He grabs the tray of food and leaves quickly. Stiles hears the lock latch, and he deflates.
“Well, there goes that.” He frowns to himself, laying down on the cot, pulling the thin, scratchy blanket over himself. He stares at the door, waiting for it to open, but it never does. Stiles curls in on himself, wary of the burns on his hands.
Stiles shifted uncomfortably on the cot, the scratchy blanket doing little to provide warmth. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic whirl. He couldn’t help but replay the events of the last few days in his head, trying to make sense of his situation.
As he lay there, the pain in his wrists became more pronounced, the burns throbbing with each heartbeat. He tried to distract himself by thinking about anything else, but the dull ache and the fear gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.
His eyes flicked to the notebook and the slip of paper he had hastily shoved back inside. He knew he needed to read it again, to understand what it meant. With a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up, wincing at the movement. He reached for the notebook, his fingers trembling as he pulled it into his lap. Carefully, he unfolded the receipt, his eyes scanning the text once more.
Stiles’ stomach churned as he read the details. He had been sold, like a piece of property. His mind struggled to process the information. Everything felt like a dream; a dream that stretched on too long. He had to believe there was a way out of this.
Footsteps echoed outside the door again, and Stiles quickly folded up the receipt and tucked it back into the notebook. He laid down, trying to appear as though he had been resting the entire time. The door creaked open, and Lori stepped in.
“Stiles,” she said, her tone softer than before. “I’m just going to check your vitals.”
He nodded slightly, too tired to protest. As she moved closer, he noticed the tray of medical supplies in her hands. Lori worked quickly and efficiently, her touch surprisingly gentle as she checked his pulse and examined the burns on his wrists.
“You're doing better than I expected,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But you need to rest. You leave tomorrow.”
Stiles didn't respond, but his mind raced as he took in the information. Lori finished her examination and stood up, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.
“Try to sleep, Stiles. You need your strength,” she said quietly before turning to leave the room.
“W-wait,” he called after her, licking his lips as he swallowed.
She turned toward him with a blank expression, but she didn’t speak.
“Why am I leaving?” He asks, hugging himself tightly.
“You’ve been purchased. He’s coming to collect you.” She said, once again turning to leave.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Stiles closed his eyes, his body sinking into the uncomfortable cot. He tried to force himself to relax, but he couldn’t shut his mind up.
He knew he had to find a way out of here, but the longer time went on, the more his hope slipped through his hands.
I am never getting out of here, am I?