The Quiet

Written by Wolsal and Bagelgoose

CONTENT WARNING(S): Implied neglect, implied abuse

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Their tail thumped rhythmically against the bed in a bid to distract themself from the crushing weight of the silent darkness, all and ever consuming, though in truth it did very little to sate the lonely melancholy. 

They shivered, wishing to retreat into their own skin, away from this place. 

 Ratil distantly registered the sound of scales dragging along stone- drawing ever closer. Far enough away that they knew they at least remained unseen. For now. 

Shakily, they clambered off of the small blood stained mattress, seeking refuge by squeezing themself against the foot of the bed and the cold glass wall- bringing their knees to their chest.

They knew it was pointless, yes, but maybe this time he’d miss the sight of them. Then they could escape unharmed- all their skin in place and blood intact. 

The sounds drew closer, though quiet in the scheme of things, it was piercingly loud in this prison void of all noise. Then it stopped. 

“Knock-knock, little rat.”

They held their breath.

The scraping was louder now, they could hear it- surrounding them. Too close. Tears stung their eyes, arms tightening around their legs. 

“It’s obvious you are in there. I don’t know why you insist on ignoring me.”

A mocking laugh followed the statement- they felt it. They knew. He’d spotted them. Tears began to trickle down their face as fear sunk its claws deeper into their hide. 

“Well Above… you are in quite the horrid state. Perhaps feeding you the bare minimum was not the brightest idea. But it certainly got the job done.” Another mocking chuckle. 

They never really put thought into how they certainly must look- you get used to it after… well… they weren’t sure how long it had been earnestly. You can only keep track for so long. They’d grown used to the feeling of protruding bones, thin skin, and the sharp pain in their stomach.

Through their peripheral they could see the faint pink glow of his eyes burning into the back of their head. He was right behind them, staring the same way they imagined one might stare at a fish being sold at a market.

“At least you’re used to this now. This is the second time you’ve been locked away, hasn’t it? I believe last was during the Rat Genocide, correct?”

Their heart sunk, more tears beginning to flow down their cheeks and drip onto the ground. They nodded slightly. Their claws weakly dug into their shins- hands tremoring from the exertion.

“Struck a nerve? Apologies, but that answers my question.”

They brought their shoulders up to their head, almost seeming to shrink into themself. They inhaled sharply, eyes glued to the ground. 

“A decade since I had taken over this world. You know this, correct?”

They paused for a moment. A decade of this… the thought caused a silent sob to break through, nodding weakly in response. 

“Good, good. The people are celebrating up above this forlorn sector. If I did not fear the outcome, I would bring you along. Perhaps I could disguise you, treat you as a guest simply. Then again, you never seemed one for spectacles and celebrations of this caliber.” 

Their shoulders went slack, the offer was empty. They knew it. They could escape- try to get help- he wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t fear them, they knew that. They were nothing more than a frail mortal, more akin to a toy for him than a person. 

“Perhaps loneliness has consumed you? Is what you want your friends?”

They swallowed hard. Totsy, Prayter, the twins, Merry… they screwed their eyes shut at the memories, nodding slightly. 

“Ah… I understand. I cannot supply, unfortunately. They believe you to be dead- everyone believes that! If I revealed you to be alive, I would be doomed. You understand this.”

They sat still, eyes remaining tightly shut. They gritted their teeth as they choked back a sob.

“You do. It's clear you do. Hope has already vanished from your cold hide.”

They became acutely aware of their trembling body- they weren’t sure how long they’d been shaking, nor could they be certain of the why. 

“Do you… do you wonder why I keep you here? Why do I bother? You must. Right?”

They knew why. They knew damn well. They didn’t respond.

“That is something I wonder about quite often. Just how often I plague your mind. How often you suffer and love the idea of my arrival. The idea that you rot away, thinking about me. It's almost erotic, in a wicked sense.

The thought sickened them- words spawning a distinct feeling of repulsion they seldom had evoked. Their snout scrunched up- bile stinging the back of their throat as disgust burrowed into every inch of their being. Their claws dug deeper into their legs, almost hard enough to draw blood.

 They fought back the urge to lash out- they wouldn’t, they couldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. That’s what he wanted, he wanted to see them act out. He wanted a reaction. 

The loud scratching sound once again began to fill the air, hands shooting up to clasp at their ears. It hurt. They screwed their eyes shut once more- ignore him- ignore him- don’t give him the pleasure of seeing them suffer.

“What are your theories? Why do you think I keep you here like a trophy?”

Their tail curled around themself, jaw clenching tighter. He thought them to be far dumber than they were. Far less aware. No, they didn’t have theories. They knew the exact reason they were kept here. They’d only heard it recited a thousand times. Only faced the same torment and abuse so often that their suffering had become some sort of sick routine.

“Because. That is what you are. A trophy. A toy. A symbol, corrupted by the very infection that has plagued your world! Yet, you serve as a jester as well. The plaything for the king of the world! You should be grateful for this role I have gifted upon you!”

A piercing cackle rung through the air- not dissimilar to the sound of a fork scraping against a plate. 

There it was. The reason. Almost just a rephrasing of his previous statement. Their suffering, nothing more than entertainment. Their pain and agony was simply a means to an end, the end being to enrich the life of the monster that kept them caged. Flaying them and watching them squirm just to sate his twisted desires. They weren’t a person anymore. They weren’t a living breathing being. They were just a toy- a talking piece to gather dust. 

Silence fell upon the room, both a relief and an anxiety at the same time as they braced for whatever was next. 

Light seemed to cut through the dark like a blade, not only asking their attention but demanding it. It hurt their eyes as they blinked a few times, the scales reflecting right into their cage- bouncing off the glass walls. 

Their head felt cloudy, almost dream-like- not the calming sort of dream. Perhaps a nightmare was more accurate, the kind of dream that made you feel like you were submerged in ice cold water, drowning, yet completely apathetic to the feeling. 

“And yet, old friend, I still miss the days I would see you smile.” They heard a sigh echo through the chambers. “Perhaps, if you did not have such tenacity, we would be frolicking in the sickly fields that now replace your old home. Perhaps I could fulfill all your wishes. Perhaps you would be my beloved advisor instead of Solomon. But, perhaps, another reality shows this.”

Beloved. It was almost a comical word to hear uttered by the tyrant, even more so when in reference to other tyrant. They’d sooner die than be the object of his obsession, a tool to hurt others and nothing more. They’d sooner die than take the place of Solomon. They attempted to shoot a glare at the monster outside their walls, though the tears in their eyes diminished any perceived intimidation- as if they had any to begin with.

“Perhaps, but until then, you will remain forgotten by all but me.”

With that, they watched as he turned away- disappearing across the bridge connecting them to his quarters, trailing out of the doorway.

Silently, they drug themself into their bed, curling up. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Their claw hit the glass repeatedly, another failed attempt at distracting themself. A sob escaped their form, gripping onto the tattered cloak draped over them in a bid to soothe themself.

10 years. A second sob, screwing their eyes shut as they surrendered to the gripping misery all around. It was quiet.