A large personality can be contained within a diminutive form.

Ego and physique are completely interchangeable, though the latter often finds it difficult to contain the latter. The smaller the person, the greater might be the self-image, to the point it can overflow, spreading like a filthy oil that sticks to all it touches.

What he saw was a woman, slight of figure, but overflowing of intent. Whether that was also indicative of an over-inflated sense of importance remained to be seen. She had shown the Wolf that she was in charge, yet changed tact immediately once they were alone. She was showing him he should listen, using her previous forcefulness to demonstrate she could be reasonable when needed, but also not if she decided.

he listened.

"That's better. I knew I could count on you."

Reasonable. Yes. Friendly. Another wolf, but in the clothing of a sheep.

She walked around the table he was laid upon, and he followed her with his eyes. Until she told him not to look, he wasn't going to take them off her.

She noticed.

"Relax," she said. "I just wanted to know you were amenable to my requests. We'll get along so much better if you are."

He blinked and glanced away to look around the room, but not looking at her felt dangerous. The throbbing between his legs and its connected ache in his gut demonstrated how much. She watched him and smiled.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, grinning. She laughed. "I'm just joking. Really, you can relax."

She wrapped a cuff around his upper arm and pressed a button on the blood pressure monitor's control pad. He listened to it inflating and wished he could disappear into the sound. It was a rumbling that he could imagine was distant thunder. A storm that had passed and was receding into the distance.

Unfortunately, he knew this storm was going nowhere. It would only increase in density.

"Excellent," the woman said, once the machine had done its work. "A few volts to the bollocks messed with your BP. I'm impressed."

The room was almost bare, except for the bed he was in, and a few medical looking monitors. Against one wall was a chair, and she pulled it across the floor, allowing it to screech as the legs dragged against the tiles.

"Love that sound," she said.

She sat down and crossed one leg over the other in a casual manner, with her forearm on her knee with her hand loose. She could have been in a pub beer garden with her friends, passing the time over a cocktail or cold pint of lager.

"You'll be confused, I'm sure," she said. "If you'd have been more in the mood to play last week, we'd have already had this conversation."

Last week? No, she was mistaken. She meant last night. Yesterday. It had been only a few hours, not days. The darkness had skewed his sense of time, but not by that much.

Had it?

"You can call me Fio... Dr Bradley."

Was that a mistake? She'd almost told him her first name, but stopped. Was she nicer than she seemed, wanting to make a connection but knowing she had to remain professional? If so, no matter what she'd just done to him, he could use that. Apart from the fact it would be good to have someone he could potentially talk she might be a source of information. Possibly, even a means to escape.

Fio...

It could only be Fiona, couldn't it? Dr Fiona Bradley. The name was unfamiliar to him, but that wasn't surprising. He was unfamiliar to him. He might know her, and she him. If so, she could be keeping it to herself for the same reason he couldn't remember anything.

Which was...?

So. Dr Bradley. There were a vast number of doctorates, besides the obvious medical type, the Dr title could relate to. It wasn't guaranteed hers had anything to do with what she was doing there and with him. It seemed likely, though.

He would acquiesce to her instructions for now. At some point, information would slip out. Just one simple, tiny little morsel could be all he needed to unlock his memories.

"Hello, Dr Bradley," he said.

Bradley replaced whatever she'd just picked up from a tray out of his field of view and clapped her hands.

"It speaks! I was beginning to believe your voice had vanished with your mind. It happens, you know?"

"It does? Why, what have you done to me? Why can't I remember anything?"

"The real question is, why don't you want to?"

She leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek. He could smell freshly sprayed perfume, a brand he couldn't place, and freshly minted breath. The doctor had prepared herself for this visit. She wanted to make a good impression on him. He wanted to know why. He was her captive. A prisoner she could do with as she wished. What difference did it make what he thought?

The sensation of her lips on his cheek lingered. It was warm. Pleasant. It wasn't only the smell she was using to gain favour.

Had they known each other more intimately? If so, perhaps it ended badly and the tasered testicles were payback for the suffering he'd caused. No, outside of this room was another containing a large array of cages. In each was another hostage. She would be doing exactly the same to all of them.

He didn't know her. She knew who he was, presumably, but only as far as having read his file was concerned. He was one of many caged individuals who would each end up on this bed.

The cut of reality, however horrifying, was still welcomed. He might have fallen for her psychological games otherwise.

She was watching him, and his mind returned to the last thing she'd said.

Why didn't he want to remember?

Of course, he wanted to. The blank expanse where his memories should have been echoed around his head. It should be filled with a lifetime of experiences.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, that's a question you can only answer yourself, isn't it?"

Answering a question with a question was purely evasive. Whether she was trying to provoke him or just enjoying the confusion she was heightening didn't matter. It was still just sport.

"Well, can you tell me my name?"

"Of course. I'd be glad to, in fact. I'm not going to, though. I'd be glad to, but that will be when it's time. If it's time."

"What does that mean? Why can't you just give me a straight answer?"

"But I can! I'm perfectly able to answer every question you could ask!"

"So, why won't you?"

"Why indeed?"

He groaned in frustration and turned away, closing his eyes. She was smirking, and he knew he was powerless to do anything about it. She had the taser, but if he tried to fight her for it, he had no idea who was standing in wait beyond the doors for just that to happen.

"I really wish our guests had better senses of you know?" she said.

He turned back to face her. The only people in his position who found humour in it had to be insane.

"Fuck you."

"Oh, you wish!" She brought her hand down against his head, startling him. "Listen, you. Stop whining. If you want to get out of here, you'll listen and do, got it?"

The doctor was speaking through clenched teeth and had bent so her face was next to his. It was closer than he'd expected and, surely, must be a foolish move for her. He had to take advantage of it.

Abruptly, he moved his head away, then brought it hard towards her, wanting to crack it against her nose or cheek, but she was too fast for him. She was standing a few feet away when he looked up. And she was grinning.

"You're always so predictable, you lot. Can't any of you try something original? I'd be impressed then. Really, it wouldn't be difficult to impress me."

"Just let me go! Give me back my memories and let me go!"

"And you'll never tell anyone what you saw here, right?"

"That's right! It's pitch black in there, anyway. I haven't seen a thing!"

"See what I mean about being predictable? You all say it! And you all want us to give you back your memories, like we took them in the first place!"

"What do you mean? I can't remember anything, not even my own name."

"Everyone thinks we stole their memories and can give them back."

"You mean, you didn't? You can't?"

"Well, yes, and yes. But you don't all have to ask it."

"Just... just give me something, please!"

Dr Bradley sighed. She wished there could be something new for her to deal with, instead of the same old complaints and requests. It was so tedious.

"Fine," she said. "Fine. Your name is Ryan."

"Ryan? Ryan. I'm Ryan. Thank you."

"I don't know why you're thanking me. I could just be bullshitting you know."

"Well, are you?"

He saw her mouth move, but the needle slippingback into his neck prevented him from hearing her words. He was lost in the darknessonce again.

Thanks so much for reading this latest chapter of Cell! If you have time to comment or vote, that would make my day!

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