Peter's crib
After two years, Peter’s water droplets easily looked photorealistic.
It was pretty damn impressive if he did say-so himself.
As Peter hung his newest creation, he was forced to finally overlap a drawing for the first time. Translation- that meant he had filled up his three whole ass walls. Which also meant; Peter was probably the leading pro water droplet artist in the world; maybe in all of history. Adding up to the sum that Peter was most likely clinically insane at this point. Etc, etc, etc.
Maybe he could get a pretty little certificate and everything! Signed by the world renowned bat-shit specialist with a flashy gold embossed ribbon! But, it would have to be put on the end of his cot or something or else it would really mess up the aesthetic he had going-
Peter stepped back to admire the advancement in his work over the two years and couldn’t help but smirk.
His very first drawing was hung in the top right corner on the far left wall. It was quite pitiful. The ‘water drop’ was an ugly circle with a harsh drawn edge, roughly shaded with scratchy lines throughout the entire circle ( God, was he really that bad when he started? ), with a lousy erased-in highlight in the corner that still had pencil strokes fading through where Peter had pressed too hard and damaged the tooth of the paper. It looked nothing like water. But still, he had to start somewhere.
Peter had done that piece about five months after arriving here, so technically if he was honest, he had only been drawing for one and a half years. But hey, nobody was around to correct him! So, Peter figured why not add a new game to the list and lie to himself and say it was two years, then see how long it would take for him to convince himself that was the truth.
Fun, right?
The rest of his art faded gradually from “Oh my God, what the fuck is that?” to “Holy shit that’s a drawing!? ”. Or at least, that's what Peter would assume people would say. Though, he wouldn’t really know anymore. A lot could have changed in two years he supposed. The only signs of life now days that Peter got were Gary and Mr. Grumpy. Both of which Peter was pretty certain were actually sewer rats disguised as humans.
Speaking of the devil, Peter heard the sliding metal door click open, and entered two separate sets of feet hitting the ground. Peter didn’t bother turning as that little kindle of irritation ignited in his gut as usual when he heard a certain someone’s specific pace. He could hear that one was his lovely guard, due to the abnormally hefty thumps, and the other-
“Gary,” Peter crossed his arms, still facing his work as he refused to give the other man any form of attention until he jabbed at his displeasure of his presence first. He only got to sass the man every blue moon when he actually came all the way out here, so Peter relished it while he had the chance. “Promptly tell Ross he can- and excuse my French- go fuck himself because I am actually having a good day.”
“Well, Mr. Parker, I see you are as cheery as always,” Ross grunted, sounding more wound up than usual. Oh was this going to be fun! Peter narrowed his eyes and smirked a shit-eating grin. He couldn’t help his excitement as he turned to see the secretary's wary and tight face. Fascinating. Ross’s shoulders held more tension than before, and he looked really, really tired. And God, did Peter saver every ounce of it as he bounced up to stand on his bed.
“Actually, I really am, so that was a waste of sarcastic energy,” Peter did a few calf raises for the hell of it. “Which, it looks like you should be saving. You seem super exhausted today, by the way. Just thought I should point that out. You’ve got more greys too- well, in what’s left of your hair anyway. Seriously, you’ve lost a lot. Stressful week?”
Ross’s expression did not change, it never did at first, but Peter was sure he heard the tone change ever so slightly more irritated. Great!
“I do not have time for you today,” Ross said, smoothing over his already steamed flat suit. “I only came here to make sure our new guests settle in nicely.”
Peter perked up at that. Immensely so. Some deep rooted hole in his chest that he had gotten used to squeezed, making its presence known again. Guests? As in new raft mates? Peter had never had even one of those. He had been alone this whole time. Which was fine, really; He was fine.
Peter was absolutely, one hundred percent fine .
“Guests?” Peter questioned, keeping his voice void of any excitement that might tempt Ross to take away his new prison life development. “Trapped a few more innocent kids up to throw them in the slaughterhouse?”
“You are not innocent,” Ross told him firmly, walking up to the glass. “You know exactly what you did.”
A long time ago, Peter would have screamed at that. He can still remember that flaming hot spike of confused, angry desperation in his chest. The banging of fists on enhanced glass and raw throat screaming explicit rages toward the smug man. Or maybe he would have cried; overwhelmed at such a young age at the injustice of the unexplained life punishment.
But now, numb to it all, Peter just scoffed a laugh.
“Actually, I think you’ll find that I don’t know. Just like every other time you’ve visited me.” Peter crossed his arms. His denial, which was the honest to God truth because Peter really didn’t understand, always put Ross on the edge. He could see the man’s metaphorical feathers ruffle up.
“Nobody likes a liar, Peter.” Ross hissed.
“And nobody likes a douchebag, Theaddus .” Peter shot back. The secretary set his jaw, eyes fiery. Peter fought back a smile of satisfaction. Instead of going off on him, Ross just reverted back to the original statement to divert the conversation.
“And this is not a slaughterhouse, don’t be dramatic. It isn’t becoming.” Ross chided. Peter nodded.
“You’re right, this place is way worse.”
“Oh, Mr. Parker,” Ross shook his head with a cold laugh, folding his hands neatly in front of him. His eyes grew darker than usual. “I could show you worse, believe me.” Peter scrunched up his nose, making a gross face.
“Ew, um, no thanks,” the boy declined. “I’m sure that specific… treatment- only goes to your wife-"
“ Mr. Parker! ” Gary, who had been standing off to the side, finally spoke up to put an end to the little feud as he stepped in front of the glass to give Peter a very displeased look. The teen shrugged, giving the guard his best innocent face, as he had to restrain from running to the other side of the room to get one last look at Ross’s priceless appalled look.
Before any of them said or did anything else, more footsteps entered the room. Peter would have noticed them earlier normally had he not been distracted. The boy hopped down off his cot as a hell of a lot of guards lead in a group of four very regular looking people in the same blue jumpsuits he had on. There were three guys, two white males and one dark skinned. All much older than Peter was. There was one girl, younger than the rest but still not as young as he was, and she was the only one in a straight jacket and a, God, a shock collar-
Yeah, they looked normal, but Peter was smart enough to know that looks were deceiving.
This was gonna be really interesting.