Chapter Four

The walls are closing in on me. I cower in a corner, blinking against them, trying to balance on the line of imagination and reality. They get closer, threatening to crush me, and I know that I scream from time to time.
How long have I been here now? Four days? Six months? Feels more like six months. It’s suffocating in here, the light never changing, always the same dimness and never giving insight on when it is daylight or when it is dark. That makes it worse, not knowing.
Then there is the silence. I have to continually make noises to reassure myself. Silence can only mean bad things. Silence sends people mad, it is the place where monsters live, where they lie and wait for the kill. I hear my breathing, my screams that die to whimpers, and soon I even think I can hear my heart beating.
Perhaps isolation wouldn’t have been this bad a few years ago, when death and violence wasn’t occurring on a regular basis. It used to take weeks to break down the sane in these conditions, but now it can only take days depending on the state of the mind. My mind is not strong. I keep seeing the girl with blue eyes, blood pooling from her head. If I am not listening to my screaming, I am hear the yelling of my parents. I am damaged, and I have been damaged for a long time. Beyond the walls I have built in my head, I am nothing but a cowering girl begging for release.
I hate it here. I can’t escape my head. Everything it much clearer in this confinement and it is agonizing. Each image becomes crisp; the dead girl had added features such as mangled limbs and bone sticking through flesh, or Jake appears, gun pointed at me, only when he pulls the trigger I watch the bullet approach the spot between my eyebrows. Marcus even makes an appearance, but instead of telling me to sleep he is telling me how I am going to die in a million different ways.
They taunt me.
They won’t leave me alone.
I sleep.

***

I smell something. It smells foul, and then I realise it is me. My teeth are covered in grime when I rub my tongue over them, causing me to shudder. I run my hands through my thick hair to try and soothe myself, but they only come away with a greasy texture.
I am on my side now, the mat offering no comfort for my body. My throat is sore from screaming, which has now stopped. Won’t do much good anyway. No one is going to help me in here.
The hatch in the door slides open, and I scramble towards it to take the food. A tray of bread and soup greet me, and I am too hungry to care. I only get one or two meals a day, but I have lost count of how many I have had. Instead I just devour what has been offered, gorging on the bread and drinking the soup from the bowl like a child. I toss the plastic bowl and tray in the corner with the others and return to my place on the floor.
How are the others coping, I wonder? Are they as disorientated as I am, or pulling through with flying colours? I can’t find it in me to care. I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling, before spotting the camera in the corner. They’re watching me. I’d been aware of that camera since I was locked in here, but I now take close attention to it.
What are they looking for? Strength? Maybe not. They are probably trying to identify the weak in order to push them harder once this is over. Yes, that seems logical.
I smile, and wave at the camera.

***

If I listen hard enough, I’m pretty sure I can hear some of the others screaming. I press my ear to the wall that connects to the other cell, straining to hear some kind of sound. Yes, I hear it. Someone screaming, begging to be released, their voice strangled and desperate.
What fools.

***

My back presses to the ground, my feet resting up on the wall before me. I’m bored. I go through a pattern with my legs, folding one over the other, unfolding it, and then repeating the pattern with the other leg. Back and forth, back and forth. I can think of nothing in particular because I have already dwelled on everything; my family, my home, the Line Up, the confusion, the emotional agony. Now there is nothing, and I am simply bored senseless.
The silence is deafening, but I push my way through it. No point in resisting it. Knowing my luck, I will hate noise when I get out of here.
I miss talking. I miss having a conversation with someone, even if there is no real emotive behind the words being said. Just the simple “Hi, how are you?” “I’m fine thank you, how about you?” “I’m great thanks.” We were never great, but it was better than nothing.
My thoughts, or what’s left of them, travel to Maxine. I knew her before the Line Up well. She used to smile a lot, and everyone associated her laugh with bells. She spoke to me a lot, sitting with me at dinners in school and walking home with me. I think of her as enviously pretty, with a heart shaped face and hair that falls to the small of her back, shimmering red as shocking as fire and blood. She’s so slender, but curvy, holding the grace of an angel.
How can she possibly survive in this place? She is not a soldier, she is too innocent and perfect to be one. The thought of her breaking scares me, because I know that it won’t take much. Worse of all, she will either become vicious, or she will die in the making.
Cole appears next. I’ve always liked Cole Cassidy, but only as a friend. He’s good looking, cute, but not handsome. He looks to young, despite him being nineteen. He keeps to himself most of the time, and I wonder what the Watchers saw that I didn’t. Maybe he had a hidden temper. Maybe he was smarter than he let on. I am interested to see how he fairs in this society, and what kind of killer he will become.
Tony. Ah, Tony. My fingers twitch at the name, and I smirk. In Sector One, I could probably hurt him at will. I imagine wrapping my hands around his strong neck, squeezing, watching the life drain from his eyes. He deserves pain. After all he has done to me, he deserves it.
Is this what this place does to you? Brings out your darker self? I know I am travelling darker corridors, visiting a side that everyone has but never allows to surface. I don’t like it, but when you run out of things to think of, you travel to dark places.
Wanting to avoid that road, I look to the camera in the corner at my right, and speak proper words for the first time in however many days. “Hurry up! I’m bored!”
Nothing. Oh well, can’t be long now. I continue my somewhat game with my legs, feeling lazy and at a loss. Not even seven days and I have run out of things to think about. How would I cope in this circumstance for weeks on end? Well, I’d go nuts.
The thought makes me giggle.
I suddenly see the slight bulge in my jeans pocket, and I remember that it is my pebble. I’d forgotten about that, but I also think of the camera. They can’t know I have it, they’ll make fun of me.... or take it off me. I can’t go on without it. But I need to reassure myself that it’s there, so I discretely run my hand over it as if I am wiping sweat from my palms. I sigh heavily in relief.
Suddenly, I hear a grinding behind the door, I tip my head back so that I am looking upside down, expecting to see the food tray slipping through. No. My heart pounds in anticipation as I watch the metal door open, and my mouth parts into a grin.
“Can I have a shower now? I really need a shower.” I think that it is best to be laid back, as if the whole experience hadn’t gotten to my head. Two men stand there, one dressed in jeans and a black shirt, the other in pale khaki trousers and black t-shirt. The one in jeans is very good looking, and I find myself staring absently for a moment. He has dark bushy hair that curls around his ears, and a face that not just a mother would love. Strong, angular, sharp. His eyes rake over me with disapproval, a striking green colour that makes me shiver.
He’s good looking, but I don’t like him.
“Get up, Harper.” he says, the man beside him standing silent, not looking at me.
I frown. He looks too young to be bossing me around. Surely he can’t work here.
“Did you not hear me? Get up!” he snaps, and I do as I am told. “Christ, I don’t have all day! I hate these bloody new recruits.”
“I am here, you know.” I say. He glares down at me for a long time, but then his features smooth into a smile.
“Looks like you haven’t gone off on one in the head.” he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That’s a good start.”
“Her video footage is very good, sir, although the first two days didn’t look so promising.” says the man beside him, who I remember is the guard who had locked me inside to begin with. Had he guarded my door for the entire seven days?
“Good, I’ll take a look later.” says the first man, nodding. I glower at them both.
“Shower, if you don’t mind.”

***

I have to wait for the girl who was in the cell beside me, but why I don’t know. She’s a small girl, but not as small as me, who looks to be about sixteen. She is whimpering when the soldier opens the door, sitting in a corner with her arms around her legs. She looks at us with wide, terrified eyes that threaten to bulge out of their sockets.
“Time to go, Fox.” the grumpy guy says. I don’t know his name yet, and don’t find myself wanting to know. He annoys me, and all I want to do is have my shower. I look around as the girl gets to her feet.
“Where is everyone else?” I say.
“They will all be released four at a time.” Grumpy says. The girl, who’s surname is Fox, stumbles out to join us, and she stares at me as she stands by my side. She looks confused, but also has questions swimming in her grey orbs. I shrug. Her skin looks moist with sweat, brown hair sticking to her face. She smells as bad as I do.
The two men beckon us to follow them, leading us into the main corridor. I feel unsteady on my legs, and as the girl beside me struggles to the point of losing her footing, I offer my arm for her to balance on. She gives me a grateful smile. The two men take us directly across the corridor and towards another small path between cell boxes, and I notice that the doors actually have the recruit names on them. They unlock the first door that reads Daily.
Cole is inside, asleep on the mat. His body looks flimsy and worn, as if he had been fighting and collapsed from exhaustion. His knuckles are red, and I think he must have pounded against the door in a form of desperation. Like the girl’s and mine, his brown hair is grimy and messy, his sweat drifting into my nostrils and causing me to grimace.
Grumpy pounds his fist on the door.
“Up, Daily, come on!” he shouts, and Cole jerks awake with a cry. He looks around on high alert before his gaze lands on me, and then the girl at my side. Unsteadily he gets to his feet, and he too is flimsy on his walk. I reach out, and he grabs my arm for support.
Finally, the door reads a name called Jefferson, and beyond it is a boy with blonde hair that sticks out at all angles. His blue eyes are alert and ready, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looks tired, shadows coating the skin under his eyes. He can’t be older than fifteen.
The four of us then follow the men down the main corridor, away from the entrance. We latch onto one another, the girl holding my hand and Jefferson’s, Cole leaning on my shoulder. We all pant from a wicked tiredness that has us dead on our feet, and I find it hard to comprehend that the rest of these cells hold a person, all suffering, all wanting to escape.
We end up at a door that slides open, revealing an elevator inside. Grumpy gestures us inside, and he quickly thanks the soldier before following us. He presses a number, one, with a long finger, and we rise in the elevator in silence. I feel ridiculous for some reason.
When the door opens again, we are met by another corridor, only this one is much more sleeker than the previous. The floor shines white and is made of marble, and the walls are painted a cream colour that remind me of home. We walk through, our shoes squeaking against the floor, until we reach a door that has a sign saying SHOWERS on it.
I sigh with relief.
“Fifteen minutes showering, and then I will take you to your room. You will have three hours rest, and then myself and some others will go over basic information about how things work around here.” Grumpy informs us.
“Who are you?” Cole asks, his voice hollow. The man looks at us and smiles.
“I’m Ethan Riley, your mentor. Or one of them, anyway.” He opens the door and we file inside.
There are many white towels waiting for us, as well as assigned uniforms which look the same as those that the soldier wore. They hang from coat hangers above benches, sinks to the left and shower stalls to the right. We take a cubical each and go about our business in silence. I strip and push my old clothes under the door, but remember to take the pebble from the pocket. There is a space inside to place the towel without it getting wet, and I turn on the shower. The water is both welcoming and yet loud in my ears.
I relax in here. My muscles unclench as the hot water soothes my dirty skin, washing away the grime from the past seven days and the worry that had clung to it. I was still worried, but at least it was fresher now, not building on anxieties that had already been there. I wash my hair, pushing it back from my face and running my fingers through its knotted strands. They have shampoo in here as well as shower gel, both smelling of lime.
Once I’m finished, I wrap the towel around me and quickly exit the cubical, only to re-enter once I have my new clothes. I leave the boots that come with them out on the bench. I dry myself off, towel drying my hair, and slip into my new underwear and clothes. They feel wonderful and fresh against my skin.
I stuff the pebble in my pocket and leave the cubicle. Taking a seat on the bench, I pull on the boots that fit snugly around my small feet. I don’t need to wonder how they knew my sizes; the Watchers would have that recorded in my file. Tying the laces, I listen to the others mimic what I had done, retrieving their clothes and getting dressed in their cubicles. Cole sits beside me once he too is finished, pulling on his boots.
“I’m not going to make it in here.” he says in a hushed voice.
“You will, just be strong.” I answer, finishing the task at hand and looking at him. His hair is shiny from his shower, but at least it looks clean. He smells of lemon.
“I went nuts in that cell.” he tells me. “I’m trying not to go insane right now.”
I don’t say anything, just take his hand and squeeze his fingers. He shudders and doesn’t say another word.
Once we are all showered and dressed, we follow the man who calls himself Ethan down the corridor again, passing doors with names that I don’t get chance to read. The girl clutches my hand again, and I learn that her name is Tilly. Jefferson has a first name by the name of Dan, but he likes to be called DJ.
“This will be your dorm. The four of you will have it to yourselves, where you can do as you please. There are two bathrooms at the back.” Ethan says, and pushes the door open. We all hesitate, but then walk in and he closes the door behind us. He doesn’t lock it.
Inside are two bunk beds, one of either side of the room. Beanbags scatter the floor in the middle, two red and two blue. A sofa lines the wall opposite us, next to it a door that reads BATHROOMS, and two desks sit either side of the wall on either side of the main door. It’s breathy in here, open and bright. It scares me. How can we go from living in a cell to living in here? It’s too... good.
A reward, I reason.
Tilly silently pulls away from me and walks toward the beanbags, collapsing in a blue one and seeming to instantly fall asleep. I note that she seems younger than she looks, and it occurs to me that it may be a strategy, a deception. I will remain wary of her from now on.
DJ takes refuge on the top bunk to the left, falling still on the mattress as he sighs into the pillow. Cole and I share a glance, and make our way to the free bunk. He takes the top. Climbing onto the mattress, I feel achingly comfy as it hugs every bend in my body, softening every twinge my body tingles with. Burying my face into the pillow, it doesn’t take me long to fall asleep, and not without a few tears escaping my eyes.
The cell was more appealing to me.

Reviews

[Joshua]

Great work again. It's interesting to see what could have been a slow descent into insanity for your protagonist, and to hear her thoughts as she attempts to hold on to herself throughout the time that she's being confined. This chapter, again, moves the story along well and poses questions about what is to come; it has a gravity to it; I want to keep reading on, I want to know what's going to happen next.

This really is top-notch so far, judging from these chapters. I think that if you finish this and polish it some, getting rid of as many of the little flaws in the prose as you can, this would be well worth publishing. I know I'd buy this.

[Hollie]

Thank you, your reviews offer a lot of encouragement :) I do hope to publish this one day