**unedited**

CHAPTER TWO

ROBBIE LAY IN THE dark shivering with his knees tucked to his chest. He doesn't know where he is or how long he's been here. All he knows he's that he's scared. So, so scared. He doesn't have Poppy with him, or Eve or Harry or Sasha or Maxie or Ress. Even Locke would comfort him in this dreadfully lonely, dark, scary place.

Wherever this place may be.

He hasn't seen anyone since that giant vampire with both ears missing took him. It feels like it's been years he's been trapped in this black hole, but surely it can't have been more than a few days, a week at most. Or maybe he just hopes it hasn't been that long so there's a chance Eve or Harry is about to pop in at any moment and rescue him.

That would be real nice.

If he woke up and this is all a nightmare.

He's not so naive as to put his faith in that belief, though.

He's not sure how big the room--if it's even a room--that he's in is. He hasn't tried to stand or feel around, despite his instincts telling him to. He's afraid. Fear can be a crippling enemy, an unstoppable one.

He doesn't know what the vampires want from him.

He doesn't know anything at all except that he's alone and frightened.

He falls in and out of sleep irregularly, never knowing when unconsciousness will hit. He stays with his back to a cold, stone wall and his knees pulled up. He ignores every pain of uncomfortability. He does not move from his position even the slightest bit. He's oblivious to the hunger churning his stomach and the fact that he's in desperate need of new clothes, particularly pants. Even if he acknowledged the reality of his situation, he would fight hard to not care.

Shutting off his brain is prefered as opposed to drowning in horrible thoughts. However, the task is easier said than done.

On whatever day at whatever time, a door opens to wherever he is. The action causes a brilliant light to pour into the space, making Robbie whimper and press his fists into his eyes. Footsteps get closer to him, and his mind screams at him to be alert yet he feels unable to move. He remains curled up against the stone, probably appearing pitiful and on his deathbed. At least he feels as much.

"Can you stand?"

Robbie can't answer, still stunned from the bright light.

"Come on, kid, help me out. It smells like crap in here and I'm really not in the mood for antics. Can you stand or what?"

The voice isn't totally unfriendly, oddly enough, but of course it isn't the friendliest voice either. The man simply sounds tired and bored.

Despite his legs feeling like jelly from going unused, Robbie struggles to sit up. He keeps his eyes pinched shut as he uses his hands to push against the concrete floor. His arms wobble and his knees quiver, threatening to give out before he's even put much pressure on them. His eyes water, but he bites down on his bottom lip so he doesn't seem like such a baby.

There's a heavy sigh before a firm hand grips one of Robbie's elbows. "Disgusting," he grumbles under his breath, and Robbie isn't sure if the insult is directed at him or not. He wouldn't be surprised or offended considering his current state. He's now aware of his pants sticking to him, his cheeks warming but more so the desperate need for a shower strikes him harder than embarrassment.

Robbie manages to squint, looking around.

There's no toilet anyways. No bed or food or water or change of clothes. It looks as if a giant punched a hole in a wall, and someone figured it would be a good holding place for little children. Then Robbie peers up at the man, his eyes watering at the bright light, but he manages to depict dull brown eyes and plump cheeks, stubble lining an undefined jaw. He's neither mean nor friendly looking.

Just plain.

He doesn't say anything to Robbie, a grip still on his elbow as he drags the boy out of the room. Robbie's legs quiver beneath him, his eyes still slanted from the bright lights overhead. It's a long corridor, and it looks like a hospital. Robbie has only ever been to a hospital once, so he could get his tonsils out, but there's no mistaking the stereotypical disinfectant aroma suffocating his nose. The tile underneath his feet is as white as the lights above, and suddenly he feels very nauseous with the brightness of everything.

He heaves as if to throw up, but the lack of food in his stomach causes nothing to rise. He settles for clutching his stomach, focusing on walking instead of the pain he feels everywhere in his body.

Robbie wants to ask where they're going--where they are--but his throat is too dry and his lips are so chapped they hurt to press together. How long has he been locked away like an animal? Why has he been locked away, starved, and dehydrated? He can't conjure a single explanation. All he figures is that the vampires are to blame considering they took him.

But the man pulling him along is not a vampire. Despite the weary yet slightly angry glint in eyes, they are a normal brown. No traces of red. And his mouth, if a bit swollen as if he got punched, does not outline abnormal teeth. In fact, when the man yawns Robbie peeks to check and it seems he's missing a few.

Plus, no offense to the man, he's not exactly in the best shape. Certainly not vampire material.

Robbie stumbles over his feet, still trying to gather his wits. The man tightens his hand on the boy's elbow, keeping him upright, then practically drags him further down the hallway. The hallway that seems to never end. Robbie imagines it stretches on until you get to the end of the world, then there's a diving board where you can leap into space. If he could survive in space without one of those fancy suits, he would gladly jump into the stars and float endlessly amongst other worlds. He might even find an inhabitable one with friendly aliens welcoming him with open arms.

Anything would be better than this world.

His hyperactive imagination comes to an abrupt stop the same time the man's feet do. Robbie would've stumbled again had it not been for the man basically carrying him, nothing but the boy's tiptoes sliding across the floor.

The reason for the halt is a polished wooden door with a metal handle. Robbie isn't sure why this one is so special since every door down this dreadful hallway is exactly the same, but then the man knocks three times, each time with a few seconds pause. If he weren't so scared and confused, Robbie might've been excited that his life is nearly an action film turned to reality. Secret codes are really cool, and they always have been to him, but this one just makes his nausea worse.

Still unable to form words, Robbie turns to the man with wide eyes.

The man huffs, stands straighter, and faces the door, though if Robbie didn't know any better he would've thought there was a twinge of defiance in the man's gaze.

There's a crack in the door before it swings open, a short woman with a stiff spine awkwardly waving them in. She has rounded glasses, a pointy nose and chin, but soft green eyes that wander over Robbie pityingly. She ushers them inside, instantly closing the door behind them as if whatever is in this room is top secret.

The room is dimmer than the hallway, to Robbie's relief. He looks around, but there's nothing strange or unsettling despite the situation. There's a couch and two chairs huddled around a coffee table, and there's old vending machines lines against the back wall near the window. It appears to be an old lounging room, or maybe if they are in a hospital, a waiting room. There's two other doors in the room, one to the left and one to the right. He hasn't a clue what they're for.

"The boy needs a bath immediately," the man says, crinkling his nose.

"Of course," the woman replies in a sweet voice, one that reminds Robbie of his sister. His chest aches. "You should know the system by now, Tommy. I can take it from here, thank you."

Tommy grunts, glancing once at Robbie before somewhat reluctantly leaving the room, shutting the door just as quickly as the woman had the first time.

She turns to Robbie, a white coat he now realizes as a doctor's coat adorning on her small frame. She offers a kind smile. "Poor thing. You must be starving, yeah? Let's go get you cleaned up."

She lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, steering him to the door on the right side of the room. It's a bathroom, looking as clean and normal as ever. Robbie blinks multiple times as if trying to wake from a dream. Do the amenities really work? Gosh, he doesn't even know when the last time he had an actual shower was; he doesn't count Quincy's crummy setup though that had been slightly refreshing. However, this real working shower feels like a miracle.

"This knob is cold, this one is hot. Honestly, though, the water will be mostly cold I'm afraid. We're still trying to pick ourselves back up from all the outages. I think you'll be content with a shower nonetheless. There's soap and shampoo, and towels are right under the sink here. I'll be right back with some clean clothes. You can leave your dirty ones in the corner right there. Sound good?"

Dazed, Robbie nods slowly.

She leaves for no more than two minutes, then comes back with fresh clothes as promised. She chuckles at the fact that Robbie is still gazing at the shower as if it's the most incredible thing in the universe. She squeezes his shoulder. "Go on. By the time you're finished, there will be a nice meal set out for you in the main room."

He's so confused as to why they had treated him so horribly and are now acting as if he's a prince. He still doesn't have the strength to ask, but he doesn't get the chance either as she exits the room, softly closing the door behind her.

The shower feels amazing.

He has to force himself out of it about a half hour later. The clothes given to him are soft and smell like lavender, the same detergent his grandma always used when he would visit her. He never thought he'd be grateful she's dead, as awful as that sounds, but he knows she's in a far better place than he is.

The shirt is a bit too big, the pants a bit too short, but he's too overwhelmed drowning in euphoria to care. A voice in the back of his mind tells him not to get too excited, to keep with your senses and stay clear-headed. He doesn't ignore that voice, but at the moment he doesn't pay it much mind. Why should he when there's no obvious danger? Quite remarkably, he feels rather safe regardless of the intense depression he had been in hardly an hour ago. That sullen mood seems eons away.

The woman also hadn't lied. When he steps out of the bathroom, there's a plate of baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans steaming on the coffee table with a giant glass of water beside it. He nearly trips over his own feet rushing to it, taking a few gulps of the water first. He's heard that eating too fast can make you throw it all back up, so he tries to pace himself as he digs into the delicacies. A meal like this is unheard of nowadays.

What on earth is going on?

Frankly, he doesn't really care considering the fact he's being groomed and fed. He'll enjoy this heaven as long as it lets him.

Of course, he knows it'll end eventually which is why he doesn't hesitate to absorb the glory of it all. To hold onto it tightly until it decides to let go. He knows he can't stop it from leaving, so he'll enjoy it's stay with him for as long as he can.

When he's just about scarfed down the food entirely, the door on the left of the room opens and the woman steps back in. She smiles in amusement at his plate dotted with mere crumbs, then tucks a clipboard under her arm and circles around to him. She crouches in front of him, squeezed between the couch and coffee table. Her finger lifts his chin and she seems to be examining him.

"How are you feeling?" she asks softly, still looking over his features, tilting his head back and forth.

Refreshed, he's able to say, "Much better."

She smiles. "Very good." She lets go of his face and stands, beckoning him to follow her across the room back to the left door. "The color has returned to your skin, and I think it's safe to say your belly is full. You're in perfect condition now. I think Mister Waltz will be quite pleased."

Robbie frowns, cautiously following her down a flight of stairs. "Who's Mister Waltz?"

"Only the second most brilliant man on this planet," she says, though doesn't input who the first most brilliant man is. "He's very kind. You'll be quite fond of him, I'm sure."

Robbie has a billion questions, but sums them up into one: "What am I doing here?"

She glances over her shoulder at him when they reach the bottom stair, facing yet another door. Robbie is glad he's not alone or he's sure he'd be lost with the countless amount of doors. "I'll let Mister Waltz explain everything."

She pushes the door open, stepping aside for Robbie to go first. He does so cautiously, scanning the surprisingly dimly lit room. He can't make out much which is a drastic change from the brightness of the room and hallway above, but it isn't long before a light is switched on to reveal...

Robbie frowns.

Precisely down the middle of the room are thick bars, looking much like a prison cell except these are large and have prickly wiring filling in the squares between where each bar intersects. The room is quite large with a concrete floor, stretching long enough that Robbie could easily arrange it to how his old room looked at his house. He could fit his bed and dresser and even his closet in just half of this space. He tries to imagine the room entirely without the divider and figures he could also fit his own pool then.

Then reality stumps him and his fantasy fades as the woman closes the door the just entered. She nudges him forward, then stands a few feet apart from him and flips another switch on the wall near the door. The shrieking sound of metal scraping against metal makes Robbie press his palms to his ears. Slowly, another divider, much like the one cutting the room in half, lowers from the ceiling right between the woman and Robbie.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes widening as panic fills inside him, his breath catching in his throat.

The woman smiles somewhat sadly. "Don't worry, child. You'll be fine. This is for your own protection, after all."

"What--"

"Mister Waltz will be in shortly. Until then, please don't bother screaming to be let out. No harm is meant to come to you, and it's in your best interest to cooperate."

Robbie's throat is dry as he grips the bars between them. "I don't understand--"

"All in good time," she says shortly, opening the door again to leave.

Then Robbie is alone with the lights dimmed again and the cold whisper of metal engulfs him.