3. 295
Chapter three
My breath catches in my throat as I choke on the memories of waking up in this hellhole. I remember how my time here began by pleading with anyone to let me have another chance. For them to call my family and tell them I could change, that I will be a better daughter if they give me another chance. Maybe in time, my mother could reason with him and they would return to get me out of this place. I held onto hope for days, but days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and nobody came. That’s when reality set in that nobody would. I often wonder if they think of me or if I died in their minds at when they handed me over to this place.
I’ve been here for so long. Years have passed, yet I am not sure how many. My eyes look down at the cuffs that adorn my wrists. They have been with me since that very first day. I trace my fingertips over them as I listen to the new arrival sobs. My finger traces over the markings that have been etched magically into the metal. It’s a habit I have picked up that helps soothe me when everything feels out of control. It causes me to wonder how something so small can have so much power over you. When these cuffs close around our wrists, it cuts off our magic, trapping it inside us. We are left with the physical aspects of our species. They leave them unchained until the guards add them for transportation. With every person who gets forced to join our motley crew, I often wonder about their life. Were they living on the streets, kidnapped, or, like me, a dirty secret? A secret that, if brought to light, might shine a light on the monster that smiles so pretty for the cameras. No matter what, if he says the right things, he can spin any lie and make it beautiful. After all, isn’t that why lies were made? Because sometimes, the truth is so ugly that you can’t bear to let it out.
I can’t say much regarding lying because I lie to myself daily. That beautiful lie that helps me to keep going, the lie that maybe today will be better, even though I know it won’t be. Every day is always ugly and twisted, but there is something inside of me that won’t let me die. No matter how often they try to break me, I don’t give up. Mostly, it’s 203 that pushes me to survive. The day he dies is the day I give up and join him whenever that may be. I haven’t voiced that to him, but I believe it went without saying; I think it’s the same for him. “Will you stop moving so much? Some of us can sleep through the new recruits.” The whisper meets my ears from the small imperfection of my cell that brings me joy. He is so grumpy, but I love that about him.
“I can’t control what memories I got to keep.” My hand touches the metal wall between us as I close my eyes and wish the metal wasn’t there. Whatever Dr Vic did to my brain worked too well. 203 and I discuss nothing too personal. We do this to protect ourselves in case our secret gets revealed. Everything can be used against us and we want to protect each other at all costs. However, 203 understands how much I struggle when they bring in new people. A few years ago, I would sit in the corner by the entry bars. You can’t see inside the cells of anyone else. Magic prevents it. Yet, I used to believe that maybe they would feel someone who is in solidarity with them. At least I no longer cry for them.
“Fuck feelings.” He mutters quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. Our cots in the corners help us hear even when it’s quiet. We rarely talk long in case it brings attention to our small secret. “You and me. That’s all you need to worry about.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I sigh and stare at the metal ceiling, wondering if someone is above me. “Can you tell me what you miss most?”
There was a small growl before a slight grumble of a chuckle. “If I tell you, will you go back to sleep?”
“Yep,” I smirk and beam slightly, feeling as if I won something.
“Probably my brother, but even he is fading. What about you?”
“Food. But, the feeling of the sunlight on your face as the grass blows in the wind, tickling your ankles. I want to return to the beach and lie on the sand.” I let out a small giggle and almost felt his eyes roll.
“You’re so fucking weird. I would like to see that, though. Maybe I will join you on that beach. So, no family?”
“Fuck them. They are the reason I’m in this hellhole.” I roll over to face the wall. When I hear the three taps from his side. I smile and tap four times back. My eyes close, and I fall back asleep with a smile on my lips. In my head, I know what those taps mean. I love you. I love you, too.
As I doze back off, I think about 203. He is a fighter like me. That’s the path we have chosen when coming into the facility. Not that there is much of a choice when you arrive in this shithole. We are prisoners of a group of people who were born without powers or gifts run this place. They believe we are an abomination. People often fear what they don’t understand. Fearing us has caused them to want to control us, experiment on us, make money from us, and finally dissect us once our usefulness has run out. If you weren’t born here, you can become a breeder or a fighter. This is a simple decision for me because I would never want to subject someone else to this life, especially an innocent baby. However, my thoughts often go to the ones who were born here. This place is home.
Cuffs were added to both of my wrists, along with an implant to prevent pregnancy. Once more, a shiver passes over my body as I run my hand along my arm, passing the implant up to my cuff. How many times have I tried to take these damn cuffs off? As I touch the scars that live under and around the cuffs, it feels like too many to count.
203 knocks loudly on the side of the wall. “295, get your lazy ass up! I am tired of hearing your shit! Get up. It’s morning routine time. We’re not allowed to have vacations or sick days!” His hands drum on the wall, annoying me to no end. I know he means well. We push each other to keep us ready and help each other survive the next day.
“I fucking shifted yesterday!” That didn’t mean to come out, but seriously, everything screams out in pain. “It hurts to breathe. I thought I was a goner.” I say the last part quietly, as it feels too fresh.
“Damn, you were gone for four dinners, so I figured you did something impressive.” His breath changes, and I know he is starting his push-ups. “Don’t be a bitch about it. How many times have we defied death? Let’s go.”
He knows how to get under my skin, that’s for sure. I groan and flop onto the floor as I start my push-ups, each one more painful than the one before, but I push on. Crunches, Russian twists, shadow boxing, then pretend to jump rope. This is our morning routine every day. “So, four days, huh?” I say as sweat drips down my nose and my breath comes out winded. “Didn’t know you cared. Did I miss anything?” I don’t tell him I find it very romantic that he keeps track of when I am gone. There isn’t a lot of romance to be had in a place like this.
“Nah. I had a new fight…” Anxiety fills my chest. Yes, he is still here, but how he hesitates has me thinking the worst. “They stopped using beasts from this realm and have moved on to the ones from hell.” My chest constricts a bit. They push you harder each time. It keeps the crowds coming back. “I can’t see out of my left eye anymore.” That part comes out quietly.
I clear my throat and nod. “It didn’t heal?” We are only allowed a small allotted time to heal. My hand reaches up to my shoulder to feel the mangled flesh from one of my first fights. The monster’s teeth latched onto my shoulder before I had time to react, ripping apart my muscles and skin. I got lucky that day.
“Not enough. I can only see shapes out of it now.” He says, sounding disappointed.
“I am sure you will somehow pull it off. Maybe get an eyepatch and become a pirate?” I try to joke and hear him laugh. I decide to change the subject. We sneak personal questions once in a while. “How old were you when you came here?”
“14. No idea how long I’ve been here anymore, but long enough.” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence to know his time is almost up. We both feel like we have been on borrowed time, trying to stay alive for the other one. I don’t see us surviving much longer with them switching things up on us. I am terrified that somehow they will decide that I will have to become a breeder now that I have shifted. That’s something I won’t voice out loud. I would rather die.
“I was 13. It was my birthday.” My awkward chuckle rattles through my cell as I walk over and sit down on my cot. “Nap time.” My throat clears, and I shake my head.
I hear him whisper through the small hole, “One day, I want to hear that story.” I don’t tell him that nobody wants to listen to that story. If I tell anyone, it would be him. It feels like it was so long ago, yet I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. I can’t remember what my siblings even look like anymore. My mother and even Marcus are fading from my memories. When I finally close my eyes, it doesn’t take long before I fall asleep. Even in my dreams, I can’t escape the facility.
“What’s your real name?” The goon I nicknamed Egor asks. He is lame. He walks with a heavy limp; his right leg drags as he walks, which keeps him from being in other areas of the facility. His only place is now at Dr. Vic’s side. Whoever hurt him, they were my hero; I wish they could have finished the job. Maybe living as Egor is a punishment worse than death. The mad scientist’s lab is probably the only place for him. He is limited and could easily get overtaken by any fighters here. As fighters, we look for weaknesses before the fight begins. The sooner your opponent is down, the sooner you can end them. Egor, I could take him out within three seconds. Kick right knee; as he falls forward, use momentum to knee his face, particularly his nose. Follow up by right palm to push the broken nose back, hopefully colliding with his brain matter. He has a tiny brain, so it might not work, but it should.
Dr. Vic requires protection and extra hands for his experiments in the doctor’s lab. The guards usually rotate, yet Egor is always here. I don’t think he is too upset about that fact. I’m pretty sure that he enjoys punishing us all. Maybe it’s his form of revenge, or he enjoys inflicting pain on others. I’ve killed the man so many times in my head. Each time is more beautiful. Sometimes, I like to blink my eyes dramatically when sitting up and act like I squish him with my eyelids.
“Salem.” It’s that answer or 295. 295 is the safer answer, but sometimes they want to trip you up. It doesn’t matter because whatever I said is the wrong answer. We are only in the beginning stages of this session. They look for any reason to run the electricity. So, I might as well say the name I can no longer use. The name now seems foreign, and I feel like it never belonged to me the longer I am here. Salem is gone. Salem had to die in order for me to live. 295, crawled out of Salem’s remains for me to survive. She is a part of myself that I had to cut away. Salem couldn’t survive. I am now 295.
Volts of electricity fire off into my skull, and my teeth grind together, biting the sides of my tongue as my body goes rigid in my restraints. My molars feel like they crack slightly when the electricity stops. I feel blood pool in my mouth as I begin to focus once more. “Oops, I forgot your bite guard.” He smiles too wide for it to have been an accident. I growl and grit my teeth together, flashing a bloody smile at him before blinking twice, squishing him.
Dr. Vic moves forward, wearing his blue surgeon’s mask and cap. His ice-blue eyes observe me. I swear they can see more than what’s on the surface. His eyes seem to see within your body as if they can see his experiments changing you. “After today, you never say that name out loud again. It will only exist in your memories.” He clicks his tongue and tilts his head, pausing with a thought. “Maybe in your memories.” He lets out a chuckle. “I suppose I will never know. According to your brain scans, we have succeeded in many spaces.” He says it as if it brings him great joy.
The man is a natural comedian. He should headline, maybe make it a new hobby because the man needed a hobby. His thumb runs over my lips before stroking them twice. Then, with a shake of his head, he places the leather strap between my teeth. “There will be no teeth breaking on my watch.” He chuckles and moves back slightly, tilting his head and studying me like a puzzle. “I’m adjusting the meters on the side of your skull to get an accurate brain reading. Your pain receptors are quite interesting, and I need to ensure they are accurate for the records.” He pulls off one sticky node in my hair, adjusting it slightly. “Now then. What is the name you will not be using after today?”
I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. I try to calm myself down and slow my heart rate. My eyes meet his. “Salem.”
Dr. Vic turns his head slightly and nods to Egor. The volts travel throughout my body. They steal your breath along with any rational thought. When it’s over, I lay there whimpering. “You, my girl, are most curious indeed.” I can hear pencil scribbling on paper. “What’s your name?”
“295.” My voice feels like sandpaper as it leaves my throat. When this session finally ends, blood flows from my nose and ears.
The room distorts, and I feel like I am in a fog. The room has soft edges in my vision, and it looks like I am in a cloud. A giggle escapes my lips as I always wanted to walk through a cloud. Or maybe I fall through one, or it feels that way when they release me, and I crumble to the ground. Everything around me is muffled, and I try to focus on what they are saying, but I can’t control my head or the rest of my body. They scream at me to stand up. I tilt my head and look down at my feet. As I move my head, I realize I am lying in a heap on the floor. I try to will my body to cooperate and stand, but I can’t seem to make my legs twitch. My arms seem to work as I try to crawl forward. However, walking seems impossible. If I can’t walk by tomorrow, they will dispose of me.
They kick me, causing me to hiss and scream out in pain. Don’t they know I am trying? Even if they do, they don’t care. They finally get tired, and two guards drag me back to my cell, and every bump feels like agony up my spine. My muscles keep spasming through my body, and I think they might have damaged my nervous system. They place me on my cot and leave. I smile—my corner. My eyes look at my favorite spot in this place. “295?” I strain to hear, but I listen for more. Like a glutton, I need to hear my favorite sound, 203.
I pull myself up, thankful my arms work so I can put my back into the corner so the sound amplifies slightly. My head leans to one side, and the cool metal feels terrific. “I’m back. Did you miss me?” It feels like I swallowed shards of glass. Every word hurts. My voice sounds wrong to my ears, but maybe that’s all the electrical current making me think so.
“Fight or Dr. Vic?” he asks.
“Vic and Egor. He used the electricity on me and found my brain waves interesting.” I don’t know why that amuses 203. His chuckle makes me at least smile.
“Yeah, your brain is interesting, alright.” I like to picture what he looks like. Every day, it changes, so maybe if I see him one day, I will know him. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of versions of him live in my head. Today, 203 has brown wavy hair and kind brown eyes to match. I didn’t think that was correct, but I enjoy making different versions of him in my head. “I’m glad you came back.”
“Me too. Glad you’re still here as well.” I lower my voice even lower. “You are the best thing about being here.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Gee, thanks. I’m pretty sure that list isn’t tough to get to the top of.”
It hurts to talk or think, so instead, I sign off. Tap, Tap, Tap. I hold my breath, waiting for the return. Tap, tap, tap, tap. I reach my hand up and run it over the wall. Sometimes, I pretend he does the same. We are face to face, with our hands touching. The wall isn’t there in my mind. I love you. That’s always my last thought as I close my eyes.