3. Ellie

The room was dull, echoing with the hollow emptiness of a life devoid of freedom.

I stared at the array of unfamiliar medicines, each one encased in odd-colored vials and foreign syringes.

My fingers grazed over them, feeling the cool touch of the alien materials.

These were the tools I was supposed to use to save a life and, in doing so, save myself.

The small electronic device hummed under my fingers, illuminating the darkened room with an ethereal glow.

The Supervisor had handed it to me, a seemingly simple device that held a wealth of information.

It told me what each vial was for, how to administer the medicine, the recommended dosages — everything.

The device was surprisingly easy to use, despite the alien technology.

As I went through the list, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia.

Back on Earth, I was a nurse.

The tools were different, but the goal was the same — to heal.

The metallic clang of the cell door interrupted my thoughts.

A guard stood in the entrance, a plastic tray in his hands.

The sight of food — if you could call it that — almost made me laugh.

It was a lump of gelatinous mass, the color of sickly green, wobbling ominously on the plate.

The scent hit me next, a tangy, unfamiliar aroma that did nothing to appease my growing hunger.

I took a tentative bite, the bizarre texture and even stranger taste doing little to fill the void in my stomach.

But it was food, or at least a semblance of it, and I had no other choice.

"Do you have any human food?" I asked, the words a soft plea.

The guard merely grunted in response, the sound echoing in the bare room before he shut the door with a resounding thud.

Nothing like service with a smile.

I sat back against the cold wall, my fingers picking idly at the food.

My gaze wandered around the room, taking in the stark reality of my situation.

Yet, in the midst of the silence and solitude, a quiet resolve stirred within me.

Yes, I was trapped, relegated to saving a creature I barely knew, in a place that seemed hell-bent on stripping me of my humanity.

But I wasn't helpless.

I had a task, a responsibility, and a chance — however slim — of getting out of this alive.

I had faced countless nights as a nurse back on Earth, nights filled with despair and hope, life and death.

Now, I just had to do it all over again, but this time, the stakes were higher.

It was my life on the line.

My death; for there was no way I could survive in this place as a Prize for long.

I allowed myself a moment to feel the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming odds stacked against me.

Then, I set them aside.

I had a job to do, and giving up wasn't an option.

With newfound resolve, I turned back to the device, my mind focusing on the task at hand.

I would save Ceara, heal him with all my knowledge and skill, with these medicines and my human determination.

And maybe, just maybe, I would also save myself.

* * *

Ceara was a crumpledmass on the floor, a sad lump of tortured alien shoved haphazardly into the confines of our shared cell.

The guards dumped him like a sack of potatoes, their gruff laughter echoing around the stark room before the heavy door slammed shut.

His body was a map of injuries.

I winced at the sight of him, the image of his bruised and battered body etching itself into my memory.

Every instinct I had screamed at me to help him, to make him comfortable, to heal him.

I sprang to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest as I rushed to his side. "Let me help you," I murmured, reaching out to assist him.

He shot me a look that could have frozen the sun, a silent command etched into his dark eyes.

"No."

The word was a growl, a low rumble that echoed in the small room.

He shoved my hands away, pushing himself to his feet.

He limped painfully towards his cot, grunting with each agonizing step.

The air around him was a mixture of sweat and blood, a pungent aroma that told a tale of pain and perseverance.

I watched him from a distance, my fingers itching to help, to ease his suffering.

But I knew I needed to respect his boundaries, even if it felt like I was failing in my duty.

His restless shifting was a testament to his discomfort.

He groaned, his body thrashing on the thin mattress as he tried to find a position that would offer him some relief.

His pain was almost palpable, a tangible entity in the room that I desperately wanted to banish.

As I studied his agonized movements, I realized what I had to do.

I knew he wouldn't let me touch him while he was conscious, so I had to wait until he was unconscious.

The medical device hummed softly as I dialed up the required medicine.

My eyes widened at the dosage recommended for Ceara's size and species.

It was enough to knock out a large horse!

The vial in my hand was filled with a deep, purple liquid.

I felt the cool glass, the ridges on the cap, and the dull edge of the needle.

My hands were steady as I filled the syringe, my years of nursing training kicking in despite the circumstances.

I looked over at Ceara, his body finally still in an uneasy sleep.

His rhythmic breathing was loud in the quiet room, a soothing cadence that did little to ease my nerves.

I moved quietly, my feet silent on the cold stone floor as I made my way over to him.

His body was a mass of hard round scales.

No way the pathetic little needle was getting through that shell!

I noticed the area where his scales met were much softer.

That was where I would have to go in, I thought.

I took a deep breath and placed a hand on his colossal muscular back.

I might have been placing my hand on an elephant.

As I injected him, I hoped that this medicine would give him some respite from his injuries, that it would allow his body to recover while he slept.

"Get better, Ceara," I whispered into the cold, empty room. "You have to get better."

I withdrew the needle.

And that was when Ceara reacted.

It was immediate and primal, his body jerking as the needle left his skin.

His eyes flew open, dark orbs of rage that pinned me in place.

My heart pounded like a drum in my chest, his murderous gaze holding me captive.

Fear wrapped around me, a cold shroud that left me paralyzed.

He sat up and turned on me.

My eyes bulged wide, like a mouse before a rhino.

He could crush me without even realizing it.

He got to his feet and towered even taller.

What did I think I was doing? I thought. Thinking I could somehow help this beast?

I regained control of my frozen body and shuffled back on my ass.

He took one step after another, trailing me, his bloodshot eyes red and filled with rage.

My back found the opposite wall where I had slept the previous night.

Nowhere else to run.

Ceara snorted through wide nostrils like a bull and I just knew he was going to charge.

I turned my head to one side and pressed my cheek into the wall, as if I could keep pulling back and merge with it.

He pressed his face to mine, sniffing, snorting.

I had never felt more afraid my entire life.

I might as well have fallen into the lion pen at the zoo.

I let out a pathetic whimper.

But then, as quickly as the storm had rolled in, it dissipated.

I watched, breath held tight in my lungs, as Ceara processed the lack of pain in his body.

The lines of tension eased from his face, his gaze softening.

A new emotion flickered there, something that looked like wonder before shifting dangerously close to… gratitude?

With a final lingering look at me, he stumbled back to his cot.

He was still weak, his body a far cry from the powerhouse it should have been.

The silence in the room was deafening as he succumbed to the pull of sleep.

His body seemed to melt into the cot, his steady breathing at odds with the adrenaline that had saturated the air moments ago.

The lingering scent of the medicine filled the room, a strange combination of antiseptic and something earthy and raw.

My breaths came in shuddering gasps.

"I can't do this," I muttered to myself. "I can't do this."

Hours slipped by in a muted blur.

Ceara slept soundly, his body still and peaceful.

I found myself watching him, studying the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the soft rhythmic motion oddly comforting.

The touch of his skin, the firm and heated surface, was etched into my memory.

The tranquility of the moment was shattered as the cell door opened with a grating squeal.

The guards were back, their heavy boots echoing ominously on the metal floor.

I rushed to stand between them and Ceara, my protective instinct kicking in.

"He needs more time," I argued, planting my feet and squaring my shoulders. "He needs to rest."

They barely glanced my way, the light glinting off their armored suits as they moved towards Ceara.

Their laughter was like gravel in a blender, a harsh, grating sound that set my teeth on edge.

Despite the medicine and the sleep, Ceara was still weak.

He tried to resist as they hauled him up, his body swaying dangerously.

But he couldn't match their strength.

He cast a groggy look my way, the barest hint of appreciation in his gaze.

As they dragged him from the room, the chill of dread settled in my chest.

I had done all I could, but it was not enough.

I had to find a way to help him more, to give him the strength to resist.

But for now, all I could do was watch as the cell door slammed shut, the sound echoing in the now-empty room.

* * *

Ceara returned to the cell,a shadow of his former self.

His body swayed, and my stomach knotted as he nearly collapsed to the floor.

This time, however, he allowed me to guide him to his cot.

The touch of his skin against mine sent a jolt of unexpected energy through me.

With a newfound confidence, I turned to the guards who had followed us in. "Leave," I commanded, my voice steady and firm.

They stared at me, their alien faces unreadable.

For a heart-stopping moment, I thought they might refuse.

Then, with a shared look, they retreated, leaving us alone.

Ceara's gaze was on me, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. "Feisty little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard.

I didn't respond, but I couldn't help the small smile that crept onto my face.

The room smelled of antiseptic and iron, the scent strong enough to make my stomach churn. "Where do they take you?" I asked, keeping my eyes trained on his injuries.

He glanced at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "They experiment on me," he said simply.

My blood ran cold at his words.

I wanted to ask more, to understand what exactly they were doing to him, but I held my tongue.

Instead, I focused on his injuries.

The wounds were a grim sight, but they were also a challenge.

A challenge I was more than willing to take.

The medicine they had provided was unfamiliar, but not impossible to decipher.

He explained some of the tools and medications, his voice low and gravelly, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath when pain flared.

Working with my hands was familiar and comforting.

Each stitch I made was an affirmation, a promise that I was still Ellie, a nurse, a healer.

As I cleaned and stitched his wounds, I found myself lost in the rhythm of the task.

The sound of my own steady breathing and the soft whir of the medical equipment was a soothing soundtrack.

His eyes never left me, watching with a silent curiosity as I worked.

I felt the weight of his gaze on me, a gentle pressure that warmed me more than it should have.

"Why do they experiment on you?" I asked, unable to help my curiosity.

His eyes flickered, something dark and haunted flashing in their depths before he closed them, shutting me out.

Then he surprised me with a response:

"They always wish to explain what they do not know."

It was only a half-answer but it was more than I expected.

His body relaxing under my touch as sleep claimed him.

His silence was more of an answer than his words had been.

Whatever they were doing to him, it was more than he was willing — or able — to share.