5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Avery
"She hasn't moved in two hours."
"The other patients were active by now. Are we sure that the voltage was set correctly?"
I don't even flinch at the voices behind me, my legs curled into my body. I'm back in the white room, laying sideways on the floor with a migraine. I feel sick, not just from hunger or the migraine, but the reality that I'm alone with a bunch of psychotic scientists. They are torturing me as if I'm their own little toy.
"Her CT scan results were fine."
Footsteps walk further into the room, coming into the view. I stare at glossy heels as Dr. Cromwell leans down, her face twisted with worry.
"Avery, can you describe to us what you are feeling?"
I just continue to gaze unfocused at the wall, ignoring her. They aren't going to be rewarded with the satisfaction of knowing they are hurting me. Because they are. All this bullshit about the greater good is a little white lie they tell themselves—not that I believe they have a conscience. They are too objective, not seeing me for the person I am. To this place, I am nothing more than a bag of damaged goods at their disposal to play God with.
Dr. Cromwell frowns at my silence, looking past me to her colleague. "Perhaps she's in pain. We could hit two birds with one stone."
"Drug trials?" Dr. West asks, intrigued. "That could work. I'll get it started."
I sense his presence vanish from the room, but Dr. Cromwell still doesn't move. Maybe she hopes that if it's just her, I'll open up. I can see it in her eyes, the need to succeed—the determination to prove she's beyond worthiness. Except she doesn't care about me, she only cares about her job, which is ironic since to them, we're not worthy at all.
"Avery," she tries again. "We're going to give you some medication. It might make you feel better."
"Fuck off," I finally whisper, satisfied when I notice her flinch at my words.
She quickly stands as Dr. West reappears, the two of them having a brief conversation next to me. She doesn't mention my curse words and I don't fight when one of them picks up my cannulated hand.
"Should we move her to another room?" Dr. Cromwell asks. "Perhaps she should be secured."
"I don't think she'll hurt us," he answers, the feeling of cool liquid rushing up my arm. "Will you, Avery?"
I would if I could.
If I had the energy, I'd channel my inner Theo and slam his nose back into his face.
I've never been an aggressive person. My father was the only person I ever felt the need to hurt—and that was so I could escape. But, with each passing minute, those old feelings are starting to return. I hate Dr. West with a passion. I want to escape and be back with my guys. Except the difference here is I felt so guilty about wanting to kill my father—I feel absolutely nothing for this monster.
Dr. Cromwell leans down in front of me again, trying to meet my eyes. "We need you to tell us if you start feeling anything. Dr. West has injected you with a drug similar to sufentanil, but it's a little stronger. We're working with a team of medicinal chemists to develop stronger opioid analgesic for medical distribution to war-affected areas to support soldiers."
Great. Now they are drugging me. Why do these people have to use my own war to save others? Shouldn't we all be saved?
I already feel the effects of the drug working its way into my system. It's a strange numbness, making my muscles feel weird. They tingle slightly, my head foggy as thoughts become hard to find. At least my migraine is regressing, but it's way too quickly. Whatever they have given me is too strong for my body to handle.
I hate taking painkillers at the best of times. At least Dr. Markel was always mindful of that, only giving me low-dose, slow-release painkillers so it didn't overwhelm me. Not these people… straight for a drug designed for patients with extreme pain and high tolerance levels.
"You're going to kill me," I say to her quietly in a monotone voice. "How many people have you killed before?"
She looks surprised by my question, perplexed as she stammers over her words. "We're not trying to kill you, Avery. Our survival rates are very good."
"But not perfect," I retort back, watching as she blurs before my eyes. "How many Lilydale patients have you tortured and killed?"
I have no idea if my words are coming out clearly like they are in my head. I suspect they are slurred, darkness creeping into the corners of my eyes. Little black dots float in my vision, dancing around dangerously.
I'm going to die down here. I just know it.
In my heart, I know Grey and Theo are coming… but it's finally dawning on me that I don't think they are going to make it in time. It feels like I've been down here for days, even though it's probably only hours. But they would know I'm missing. If they were going to get here, surely they would have already done so.
Maybe they can't. Maybe Lilydale is just too good this time. Maybe they are too strong for the infamous Cirque des Morts.
As little demons appear in my vision, swarming around Dr. Cromwell's feet, I manage to pull one thought out of my head.
I have to fight as well.
I can't just rely on them to rescue me. I need to try to fight my way out of here too.
Where's that girl inside of me that was willing to go down in flames to escape? The one willing to end a life to fight?
She's still in there. I need her.
Mustering all the strength I have, I surprise the doctors by suddenly flinging myself off the ground. The white room spins violently, my stomach threatening to hurl all over the floor, but I ignore the feelings.
Whipping around, I find Dr. West watching with his eyebrows raised, his stupid fucking clipboard poised in his hand. I rush forward, knocking it with my fist. It flies upwards, hitting him square in the face. Quickly, I use the opportunity to dart for the open door, thankful not to see the guards anywhere.
One step at a time…
Everything is hazy—woozy—as I try to run in a straight line. The overwhelming white and monochrome colors make it difficult to focus on anything but I do my best to stay upright, ignoring Dr. Cromwell's pleas to stop from behind me.
As I get to the large metal door, I tug on the handle, frustrated when nothing happens.
The fucking keypad and access cards.
Spinning around, I find the two doctors approaching slowly, observing me carefully.
"Get the fuck away from me!" I scream at them, looking around for something to use as a weapon. There's nothing, so I do the only thing I can think of. I smash my fist into an observation window along the wall, shards of glass falling to the floor.
Bits of red explode in my vision, eyes seeking out the color desperately. I'm so sick of white. I hate it.
White is meant to be pure. It's meant to reflect innocence… but not here.
I realize the red is coming from my hand, a large cut across my knuckles from the glass. I breathe a sigh of relief at normality—blood—that's what's keeping me alive. And as long as I have blood pumping into my heart, I'm going to keep fighting.
Kneeling down, I grab the largest shard of glass I can see, holding it toward them. "Stay the fuck back. You're going to let me out of here."
"Avery," Dr. Cromwell says calmly, raising her hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Put the glass down. You don't want to do something reckless."
"It's what you expect," I snap back. "We're not even human to you. We're just pathetic reasons for you to use. You're not God!"
More people appear behind the doctors—guards, colleagues—all staring at me bewildered. Some don't look surprised though, and it pisses me off.
Dr. West steps toward me, motioning for his colleague to stay back. I wave my hand, droplets of blood landing all over the pristine white floor that reminds me so much of my arrival at Lilydale. I remember staring at the building, wondering how they got it to shine. It's an illusion, because once you step inside, it's the polar opposite.
"If you touch me, I'll kill you," I warn. "You already know I killed before."
"You and I both know that you don't have it in you to kill anyone, Avery," he says casually. "Put the glass down and we'll escort you back to your room."
"No," I argue, shaking my head. "I'm not letting you hurt me anymore."
He raises an eyebrow, continuing to move forward. "We're not hurting you. This is us trying to help you. Once we've finished our trials, you'll be back upstairs with your friends in no time."
Upstairs…
So, we are still in Lilydale.
It's like gasoline to the small flicker of hope still inside of me, embers catching alight. I'm near Grey, Theo, and Damon—we're just blocked by guards and doorways. There's still a chance.
"I don't believe you," I reply sharply. "People don't go back to Lilydale."
Dr. West turns his head, motioning to one of the other doctors behind him. I can't make out the words, but the other man nods, darting off down the corridor. I keep my position, even though my arm is feeling fatigued.
I expect him to continue to advance on me, but Dr. West stays put, waiting for something.
Less than a minute later, I hear footsteps approaching, confusion and trepidation gripping me. What is he planning?
Two people appear behind the other doctor, my eyes widening. Am I hallucinating from the drugs?
"Vivian?" I croak out wearily, still holding the glass.
Her blonde hair hangs lifelessly around her shoulders, her own eyes wide. She doesn't speak but her lips part, the two of us locking eyes.
She's still alive.
"See?" Dr. West says proudly. "All is okay. You're alright, aren't you, Vivian?"
Vivian breaks contact with me to glare at the doctor, the expression making me more angry. She's not okay—not in the slightest.
"Have they hurt you, Vivian?" I ask venomously.
Slowly, she nods without hesitation, confirming my worst fears. We're not getting out of here—they are targeting us one-by-one. Whittingham told us she was dead. How the fuck would she be able to go back to Lilydale?
People don't come back from the dead. Only their ghosts remain, haunting the people they left behind.
Oh, my God. Has Whittingham told everyone that I'm dead?
My arm suddenly drops to my side, my body tensing up as icy fear floods through me. If they think I'm dead… they won't come looking for me.
No… I tell myself quickly. Damon went looking for Vivian. He didn't believe she was dead. He knew something was up.
Taking advantage of my momentary lapse of judgment, Dr. West quickly rushes toward me. I try to quickly bring the glass back up, but his arms are already up, putting me in a vise.
I struggle against him. "No!" I scream, throwing my arm upwards towards him. He lets out a pained grunt and I realize I must have sliced him with the glass, but he's much stronger than me, my body being flung chest-first into the metal door.
The glass drops from my hand before more arms grab me, pinning me.
"Vivian!" I cry out.
"Avery!" I hear her reply, my head rushing with dizziness again.
Guards lift me up, restraining me as they carry me back towards my room. I glance around wildly for her, finding her pinned against more guards as she struggles to get to me, her own hope reflecting back at me in her eyes. They drag us in opposite directions, my voice shaking as I yell out to her.
"They're going to come!" I shout desperately, knowing that she knows who I'm talking about. "Keep fighting. We have to keep fighting."
Before she can reply, I'm shoved back into my room, my body landing heavily on the floor. The door slams shut behind me, leaving me alone in the room.
Please find us in time… I plead to myself. Because I'm fairly certain I just signed my own death warrant.