Chapter Eleven

Silver pushes my hair away from my face tenderly. She uses clips to keep it behind my ears, but some strands stay loose. She collects my fringe and lifts it, twisting it twice before pinning it on the top of my head. She smiles.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask quietly. I’m scared. In fact, I’m petrified. I am in a large white room, and it reminds me of the surgery rooms I’ve seen on TV. Large lights beam down on us, so bright that if I look into them for a second I see blue dots. The walls are bare, but the wall in front of me by the door is made of glass. Ethan stands on the other side, sipping from a take away cup presumably filled with coffee. He watches us with a critical eye, composed but stern. I try not to look at him.

She tilts her head but doesn’t answer my question. I am lying on a metal table, the surface cold even through my clothes. Silver has bound my wrists and ankles with leather straps, and my middle is also secured. During the transmitting sessions, we have to go one at a time, so everyone else is waiting anxiously in the dorms. I am the first one to leave our dorm, and I fear I may never return.

Beside where I lay is another table, where a heart monitor sits. Silver takes something from the table"an electrode, I think"and slips it beneath the front of my t-shirt. It attaches to the right side of my chest, and then she inserts another to the left side. Attaching the electrodes to a wire, the heart monitor begins to beep. I’m startled; it’s beating as if I’d run a mile.

“Calm down.” Silver says sternly. I don’t. All I can hear is my heart, which seems to be escalating in speed. I think I might die of a heart attack.

She disappears from my side, and I tilt my head to follow her. Counters line the side wall, and on top sits a laptop. Silver sits before it, typing for a moment, and then I see the flashing of my arm from the corner of my eye. She takes an intake of breath, seeming startled.

“Please calm down,” she says, this time softly. “If it makes you feel any better, your pain will be my pain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“I feel what you feel.” she tells me, returning to my side. “I’m feeling your fear right now. That means that your pain will seem somewhat worse, because you’re expecting the worst. It’s a little... overwhelming.” As she says this, I notice that her own arm is flashing, in the same spot where I have my own device lodged inside me. It’s more of a glow than a flash, though. I stare, and stare, and stare.

“You and I are connected.” she says, finalizing my theory. “Which is why I’m worried.”

“Probably serves you right for being so cruel.” I snap, my hands clenched into fists by my sides.

“Cruel is a strong word.” she murmurs, sounding hurt. I don’t care. “I’m merely doing what has to be done. We’ve all been through it.”

“Doesn’t make it any more humane.” I snarl. She presses her lips into a thin line, and after a moment nods. Whether she is agreeing or simply accepting my comment, I don’t know.

“This is a gradual process.” she says. “We start with the most basic, such as pinching and hair pulling. We move along depending on the levels of pain your brain processes, and whether it can cope. I won’t frighten you with what comes further down the line, I’m sure you can imagine. We repeat each infliction until you become somewhat immune to it. That doesn’t mean you won’t feel it, you just won’t see the need to process it.” she smiles. “Your skin will become your armour.”

“Comforting.” I mutter. “What if the body doesn’t cope? What then?”

“If you are asking if anyone has died in here, then the answer is no. We won’t push the body’s limits any more than we need to.”

I think that is supposed to comfort me, but it sure as hell doesn’t. I have to fight everything my body wants to do; escape. I so badly want to free myself of these straps and flee, so much so that adrenaline is beginning to bring my body to life. Silver feels it, I know she does.

“Fight it, Harper.” she says. “Don’t let your body control your mind.”

I take deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. Silver mimics me, her eyes closed, and when I hear the beating of my heart slow a little, she opens them and smiles gratefully. I glare back. I want her to suffer. I want her to feel my hate, to feel my pain. I want her to become so overwhelmed with everything negative, so much so her body can’t comprehend it. But what good will that do? I bite back the hate, and stare at the light above me until I see huge blue dots, and welcome the momentary blindness that follows. My heart continues to slow.

Not wasting any more time, she starts by pinching my arm. Hard. I ignore it as best I can. It’s more painful than usual, due to the ache my body is already suffering from. I wonder if Silver can feel that, too. I think about yesterday, when Tony rammed his foot into my stomach three times, and remind myself that there are worse pains than this. Far worse. I picture what I saw this morning in the mirror; my ribs and abdomen coating in purple splodges, swollen and tender. It hurts a little when I breathe, so I have to take short breaths to minimize it. It does little to help.

Silver yanks on my hair, and I yelp. I strain against the straps securing my wrists, but they don’t even leave the coolness of the table. Get off, get off! I don’t feel the pain, but I see Carl’s face, smell his cigarette coated scent, and I want to escape. My heart pounds so much it hurts, and I start to whimper just as Silver lets go. She pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. She glares at me.

“That was pathetic!” she snaps, and her arm launches for my hair again. I strain against the strap across my middle, groaning when it digs into my already sore ribs. Again I don’t feel the pain, I just feel Carl’s hands on me, and just as I am about to scream, Silver slams my head back into the table. The pain is so sudden I see stars.

“Christ.” she breathes, turning away.

“You okay, Silver?” Ethan says, his voice sounding strange as he speaks through a mic. His voice fills the room, and I had forgotten he was there.

“Yeah, she’s just... very in touch with fear.” she murmurs. “This afternoon should be interesting.”

“Focus, darling.” he tells her, and I feel as if I don’t exist, but rather replaced by a simple punching bag.

Silver says nothing, and for a moment I think I’m alone in the room when she disappears out of sight. Then a fist collides into my ribs, and this time I do scream.

“Remind me to thank Pierce,” she says to Ethan, or at least I think she does. “I hate being the one to bruise people.”

“You’re... a b***h.” I shout, tears stinging my eyes. She hits me again, harder, and with my scream she winces. “A cruel b***h!” I add, gasping at the fire spreading through my body. My heart continues to hammer, deafening me for a moment.

“Your pain is my pain, remember?” she wheezes. “I’m suffering just as much as you.” she hits me again even harder, and shouts “D****t!” through gritted teeth. I laugh, despite the tears escaping the corners of my eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t break any ribs.” she gasps.

“I wish he had.” I say. “Hearing you suffer actually does make me feel a little better.”

“You’re cute.” she says, and dives her fist into the area of my belly button. I gasp, straining yet again, but the pain is less fierce. “But weak.”

She hits me several more times, slams my head into the table enough times to make my head spin, and then pushes my fingers back until I think they might snap. The pain is intense, my body trembling. My wrists and ankles must be red, perhaps even blistered. As Silver circles my throat with her hand, her fingers hot and wet against my own moist skin, I stare into her eyes through tears.

“Are you... going to kill... me?” I pant. She’s breathing hard, too, sweat covering her face, the lining of her brown hair glistening at me. She licks her lips and forces a smile.

“That would be the easy way out.” she tells me quietly. “I’m not going to kill you... I’m going to break you.”

“Then hurry up... and do it!” I shout. My throat is hoarse from screaming, which makes me wonder how long I’ve been here. But that thought is quickly overshadowed by loathing, loathing towards this woman with my throat in her grasp. I want to kill her. I want to force my fist into her face. I want to inflict as much pain on her as possible, and not the agony of my own body. I want her to die, because she deserves it. They all deserve it. All of them! “Just do it.” I croak, and start to sob.

She doesn’t. Instead she lets go, moaning. She’s trembling, her jaw set. Her fingers rake through her hair, and her top half bends as she screams through her teeth. I scream, too. I scream out my hate for this place, I shriek with malice, I holler for the end that will never come. It takes over all of the agony I am experiencing, numbing it, because this kind of hate is a pain in itself. My heart rams against bone, pumping the hatred through my body as if it is what keeps me alive.

“Stop it!” Silver screams, her own voice twisted with a rage of her own.  Or is it my rage? I hear the door open, and the clicking of a keyboard, and Silver stops screaming. I do, too, because the shouting escaping my mouth turns into wrenching sobs. I want out. I want to go home. I want to go to a new place, where it’s safe. I want my mother’s arms around me, I want my father’s protective embrace. I want everything I can never have, including death. I want it all to stop. All of it.

Something is inserted into my throat.

I gasp.

The pain goes, and so does everything else.

I hope this is the end when the darkness swallows me whole.

 

***

 

When I open my eyes, I’m in the dorm. Alone. Everything hurts, my head is pounding, and I feel dried tears stinging my cheeks. The gash on my face stings ferociously, but compared to what I felt earlier, I hardly notice it.

I sit up with a groan from my bed, placing my hand against my forehead. It feels cold, and I sigh. Cold. I need cold. And sound. It’s too quiet in here, just like it had been in the confinement cell. Silence means bad things, and I need a distraction.

In the bathroom I turn on the shower, letting the water balance on the thread of cold and hot. Stripping out of my sweaty clothes I step in, sighing with relief. I don’t look at my body; I’m too scared to look. I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair, now free of clips, and standing beneath the water while my head clears.

I suspect that my performance today didn’t go down too well. I was the one who was supposed to suffer, not Silver. Yes, she was feeling my pain, but she should be used to it. After all, she had been through it just like everyone else. Today I made her feel something else entirely. Somehow I’d overwhelmed her, and something tells me that if I’m not careful, I’ll suffer dearly if I do it again.

Then I laugh. I overwhelmed her with my hate. I took control with my own loathing towards her. That can’t be good, but I keep laughing at the ridiculousness of that theory. No, it’s too silly to be true. Maybe she was having a bad day.

I laugh harder.

When I am finished, I wrap a towel around my tender frame and walk into the main dorm area, opening a draw and picking out a fresh uniform. This morning we received two more boxes, one with three extra uniforms and the other with more casual wear to suit our new characters. I now have two leather jackets, one black and one grey, and more jeans and fancy tops. All dark. All negative.

I get changed in the safety of the bathroom before sitting on my bed. Slipping on a pair of socks, I contemplate putting on my boots. But I’m too tired. I don’t want to put them on. My energy was drained just by getting dressed. Instead, I open another draw, the one that holds my prised possession. My fingers caress the pebble, and I pull it out and hold it tightly to my chest. 

I don’t feel hate anymore. Mum and dad swim into my mind, smiling and looking proud. I don’t feel hate, but love. It’s powerful, warming me to the bone, and so long as I can feel such an emotion, I know I will pull through. Once love is taken away from me, my humanity will go with it. But I refuse to ever let that happen. Ever!

What did Tilly say during our first day in the dorm? We can have two identities. Am I strong enough to pull off such a task? Is she? Hate already swims through my blood, the first step to becoming what I’m not. Hate will probably keep me sane, but if people like Silver keep poking it like a child pokes at dangerous animals, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to contain it. Hate is what they want. Hate is what they need.

I need to control it and keep it from their grasp. 

The door opens, and I quickly place the pebble back in the draw and close it.

DJ and Tilly walk in, talking about something that Kyle had said in the dining hall, laughing. When their eyes fall on me, their laughs trail off.

“Not dead then?” DJ asks, raising a brow. I put two fingers to my throat, wait a moment, and shrug.

“Apparently not.” I say, and he rolls his eyes.

“What happened to you in there?” Tilly asks, sitting beside me. “Some soldier brought you in, and you looked about as alive as my great grandma who’s six feet under. He kicked us out of the room, said you were not safe to be around. Care to explain?”

Not safe to be around? Ha! “Silver pushed me too far, I guess.” I say.

“She hardly did anything.” DJ reasons. “The worst she did with me was scratch at my eyes and give me a headache.”

“She crushed my hand.” Tilly says, flexing said hand as she does. “B***h nearly broke it.” I look at them. The areas around DJ’s eyes are red, scratch marks starting at his brow and ending mid cheek. Tilly’s hand looks rigid when she moves it.

“She punched me. Several times. She thought she’d attack the damage Tony caused yesterday.” I say.

“God, bit harsh.” Tilly says, rubbing my back. A thought occurs to me, a chilling one at that.

“Maybe Carl put her up to it for yesterday.” I say, my voice wavering slightly. It sounds legitimate enough, especially by the way she kept pulling my hair. I cringe at the thought.

They share a glance but say nothing, and I know they agree, they just want to save me the truth to that theory. I shiver involuntarily.

“But that shouldn’t make you pass out.” DJ frowns. I shrug.

“I know. I was drugged.”

“Drugged? What the hell did you do in there?” Tilly demands, frowning. I think about telling them how Silver went as nuts as I did, right to the point when she begged me to stop and Ethan had to intervene. I think about telling them because it seems like something they should know, but then I decide against it. I was knocked out of consciousness because I was seen as some kind of threat. Threats don’t exist here.

So I smile, ignoring how strange it feels. “I guess they thought I’d reached my limit and saved me the pain.”

They buy it with a shrug, and we wait for our next session with Silver to start. Cole returns, and I explain to him with the same words I told the other two, and he nods. His eyes, however, seem suspicious. He doesn’t question me, but I know he will at some point. I hope he doesn’t.

                                                                                          

***

 

When I walk back into the same room as this morning, Silver’s not there, and neither is Ethan. Instead I am met by Taylor Jones, who looks pretty much the same as our weapon session with her two days ago. She looks at me and smiles.

“I heard there were complications this morning.” she says. I shrug.

“Of a sort, yes. Where’s Silver?” I ask, lying down on the same table as this morning. To my relief she makes no effort to bind me down. I don’t hold my breath.

“She had to rest. Her session with you physically drained her, so she was unable to continue. She performed three more sessions before she had to be escorted to her room.” she explains, and I get the sense she is trying to frighten me. It’s working. “Sit up. This first session won’t take long.”

“It’s supposed to last for two hours.” I argue.

“True, and it will next week. But this is to record your fears down, or at least what you will be brave enough to expose. We need something to work with, after all.” She takes a pad from the far counter, as well as typing something into the laptop that still sits there. Yet again my arm flashes, and I sigh. “Can’t have you lying, can we?” she says, smirking as she stands before me.

I watch her swipe her fingers across the pad a few times, and then pulls out a pen-like object from her back pocket. She poises it above the screen, ready to write. “What are your worst fears?”

I think about it. “Being controlled,” I say. She writes it down. “breaking a leg, spiders, getting strangled...”

“Do you fear the deaths of your family?” she says bluntly. I swallow. I can’t lie.

“Yes.”

“Do you fear the barrel of a gun against your head?”

“Yes.”

“Do you fear death?”

“Yes.” I say, and then I frown. Yes, I fear death, but I wished it upon myself many times. I sigh; weakness, I’m so weak that I see death as a way of escape, even though I fear it with everything I have. Pathetic! She smiles then, and my blood runs cold.

“I should write down Carl Hayes, too, I suppose?” I grit my teeth, but nod. She laughs softly. “You can leave now, this is enough to work with.”

“What are your worst fears?” I ask before I can stop myself. She looks at me, and laughs.

“Ironically, having a knife thrown at my head.” she laughs again, shaking her head at her own idiocy. I smile, but it feels wrong. “See you tomorrow, Harper. Send DJ to me when you arrive at the dorm.”

She’s still smiling to herself when I leave.