Mystery Thriller Suspense

U needs to get out of here alive. Time is running out and U has no one else to trust but himself. He has to do whatever it takes to escape this prison.

“You hear that? You were right, okay? I can’t do this! Just let me out of here!”

U screams into the cement ceiling, his words echoing back around him, surrounding him in hopelessness. He knows that the other can hear him. He just needs them to listen to him. Like they did before.

“I can’t do this! At least not alone. You know that we used to be a team. Hell, we were like one organism. One body, mind, and soul!”

His voice aches with all the yelling. He’s been at it for months. U doesn’t know if he’s losing his mind or becoming more desperate. It doesn’t matter since all of his ideas fall short. He takes a deep breath trying to get a response, but it’s only ever happened once. As more weeks pass, he starts to think he was hallucinating the stomp from above him. U can’t even remember how he got here. He’s not sure he wants to.


M can’t let him out of there alive. U has to be disposed of as soon as possible. There’s simply no use for him anymore. She doesn’t understand why U screams so hard to be let out. It’s not like he can do anything worthwhile. He’s down there for a reason.

At least U admits that he can’t do this alone.

He’s weak. He’s used up. He’s outdated. He’s fragile.

U can no longer be in control.

Look where that got M. Now she has to sit here and listen to this woman talk to her as if this entire organization can be brought down by a few shots of empathy.

It’s pity.

Unfiltered, undisguised, blatant pity.

She’s still here, isn’t she? How many more people does she need to talk it out with before leaving her alone. Do you think M became this strong by doing useless shit like discussing what to do next? She knows very well what needs to happen in the future. And she will do it, no matter the cost or consequences. That kind of drive only comes from the unwavering foundations of a heart that does not beat anymore.


{ “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” I gingerly sit on the green upholstered chair. I’m starting to hate the color green.

“So, how have you been feeling?” she asks and she takes a seat in the swivel chair directly in front of her. She adjusts her suit and glasses and settles with her pen and notepad in her hand, ready to write down observations.

“Over the past year or within the last 5 minutes?”

“Let’s go with 5 minutes.”

I take a slow deep breath. “I feel…” like killing something. “unsatisfied.”

“And why is that?”

“I keep thinking about all the things I can’t do,” I look down at the handcuff around my wrist leading to the handle of the chair. “Anymore.” I stop myself from letting out a chuckle. It’s honestly funny though. I did nothing wrong, yet in the blind eyes of the law, I’m a criminal that deserves to be punished.

I’m sick of people telling me what I deserve.

She clicks her pen closed as she says, “I know what you’re thinking. That you don’t deserve to be here,” she leans forward, “But maybe you need to.”

Well that’s definitely a first. “I need to? What is that supposed to mean?” }


She has been watching for a long time.

The end of things.

The edges that are so tempting.

The sharpness of it all as that final moment comes.

M is singular, can’t multitask, very one-track minded.

M has been watching, but not listening.


{ “This is the place where you won’t change anyone’s mind. Not even your own. I suggest you simply familiarize yourself with it. Who knows how long it’ll be before you let something happen to it again.” }


Lean closer.



“What was it then, exactly?” she asks with a furrowed brow.

“I- I don’t know! But I know I’m handcuffed for a reason, so just- don’t ask me anymore stupid questions!” }


The glasses? No those look like they’ll break easily.

The pen might do.


{ “Or what? Are you going to hurt me? Do you really think yoU can?”

“He can’t.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“I CAN’T!” }




Why is he trying to speak?


{“But yoU can hear me?”

I gulp and nod, “Yes, but I can’t hear U. I know he’s saying something, but I don’t know what he’s saying.”

The furrow in her brow relaxes in understanding. “Then you must listen carefully.” }


“I’m listening, I promise I’m listening.”


{ She folds her hands in her lap and leans back. “A.”

“… A what? I don’t understand.”


“C,” I say, following along.

“D.” }


Well. This will be fun.


{ “E.” I still don’t understand, but I was told to listen carefully. So I will.





“J.” }


His eyes widen with fear. “NO WAIT!”


They can’t hear you.


{ “K.”



“N.” }


I finally see the lady in that horrid swivel chair. Surely she noticed.


Oh my, she didn’t! How much more worse could she be at this? Let’s help her out a bit, shall we? “Q.”

Ah there it is. I used my special voice. Wow, I’m proud I still got it after a year of non-use. I watch her scribble down the letter. The wrong letter. Hmph, mildly annoying but I won’t ever need to get used to it.

She looks up from her notepad, a strange look on her face. “Hello Q. How have you been feeling?”

“Oh not this again. I remember it ya know.”

“What do you remember?”

“What’s with the panic in ya voice? Am I not supposed to remember?”

Silence. Ha, as expected. These people don’t like irregularities. How boring.

“Q. Where is U?”

I look up with the most confusion I can garner into my facial expression. “I’m… right here? Am I not?”

She lets out a small sigh, shoulders sagging a bit. “Lying to me won’t do you any good. As I said, nobody’s mind will change here. Not even your own.”

“Try me.”

She removes her glasses in annoyance. Big mistake. “There will be none of that. No matter how much you try. Cooperate, and maybe you will be set free.”

“I don’t need your PERMISSION!” I lunge for the glasses in her hand but my arm goes right through her. She fizzles out at where my arm has been, and watched it restore itself into place.

She looks me dead in the eye. How dare she have the NERVE to look at me! Only look at me when I WANT YA TO. I try to lunge and wriggle against the handcuff again, but every contact is contactless. It’s getting frustrating.

Soon, the woman simply stands up from her chair, walks to the door, and digitally fizzles out into nothing.

A shock comes through the handcuff, and soon my vision fizzles into blackness.


U never stopped listening. He wants to speak but he can’t. His shoulder hurts from falling on the ground. How did I fall? He looks down at the cement… floor. It’s no longer a cement ceiling. I’m out? I’m out! YES!


{ “No, no NO! U, LET ME OUT OF HERE!” }


Not a chance.


“…subject failed to control rage. Identity Q will be reported as inconclusive. Batch number 649 for case A8TH9 will be closed and disposed of within 2 weeks.”

August 03, 2021 21:01

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