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SHE AWOKE WITH a small jump.
The fluorescent lights abruptly flickered on, illuminating the room in its entirety and effectively waking her from her light slumber. Getting comfortable was a mistake, she learned. It was best to sleep like someone could wake you at any given moment because that's exactly what the staff tended to do.
It was something she'd grown quite used to - the rude awakenings -, but she felt as if this one arrived much earlier than what was normal. From the few clocks she saw throughout her monotonous, daily routine, she knew that she was brought out of her cell at around 7 or 8 every morning, gaining about 5 hours of sleep each night.
But today, she felt as if she had only slept for a few sparse minutes before the room brightened and the door screamed on its hinges.
She didn't begin to sit up until she heard the menacingly slow clicking of shoes against the tile floor. Finally upright, she apprehensively watched a suit-clad man saunter towards her small bed in the corner of the room.
He was an older man with hair only a few subtle shades darker than the last snowfall she'd seen years ago, and a mouth that always seemed to be curved into a condescending smile. She'd seen his face before, but only a few times.
The first time was when she arrived; he looked much younger then, retaining some of his dirty blonde hair, but he still wore that same smile. The second time was Tag Day, the day when she learned of the other eleven subjects and was given the number she often found herself subconsciously touching throughout the day. He seemed to specifically smile only at her, but that was to be expected. Being so young amongst a crowd of young adults consequently caused such smiles.
And this - the rude, premature awakening - this was the third time. The third time she saw the smile that forced itself upon his lips. The last time, she subconsciously hoped.
He brought one of his hands out from behind his back, where she hadn't even noticed he was hiding it, and revealed a plush stuffed bear in his possession. "Here," he finally spoke, extending it towards her as he sat on the end of the bed.
She eyed the bear cautiously, reluctantly asking, "What's it for?"
"You," he answered with a nod of his head. "I want you to have it." She did nothing but stare until he inched it closer, almost obligating her to take it from him with hesitant hands. In the same way she tended to trace the outline of her tattoo, she traced the stitching of the bear, letting her fingers drag through the faux brown fur, over the cool plastic eyes and button nose. "You're doing a good job," he added softly. "We're going to make history, you and I. We're paving the way for a brighter future." With the hand that once held the stuffed bear, he reached out and lightly tapped the very tip of her nose, quietly telling her, "It'll be incredible."
