My body throbs as it feels the scraping of skin against stone. It also feels the aftermath of the electrocution minutes ago. I begin to think that I was thrown into some place for confinement.
The more I orient myself, the more of my surroundings I register. The walls are stone, and so is the floor. Two metal bunk beds are lined up against the wall, the blankets mere thin sheets of coarse paper. I am close to a stone wall right now, my body twisted into a bedraggled curled position.
Tentatively, I lift a hand that I had tucked underneath my torso. Using it for support, I heave myself painfully away from the cold floor. I drag myself to the wall, my limbs protesting in agony, leaning my weight against the stone. I gasp as the pain begins to overwhelm my body, causing it to tremble. I do not cry; my eyes are too dry to produce tears. Or maybe its just that I haven’t felt any real emotion at the moment.
The room is hazy; my vision still needs some more time gain some focus. So I close my eyes, waiting for the pain for subside.
Once it does, I open my eyes. My eyesight grows hazy again, but I don’t care now. I try to make out whatever I see the way I see it, but my observations are cut short as someone opens the door to my far right. I watch as the figure walks up to me, letting the door close behind them.
“Impedance...what a joke.” The person’s voice is gruff and deep, so he has to be male. I stay still as he bends down to my eye level. I blink rapidly to clear some of the haze, and I give a startled jolt as I recognize the weathered face of the General.
One of his large hand grip my chin, his fingers pressing firmly into my skin. I do not have the energy to resist, so I am stuck with looking straight into his steely dark brown eyes. “We’re going to put an end to you,” he growls, peering closely at my eyes. “We’ve found a way to rid of all the resistors in the state. Soon, we’ll expand our power to the states surrounding us.”
His words frighten me, chilling me to the bone. But I stay silent, averting my gaze from his.
“You may think by staying quiet, you’d win,” he continues, roughly releasing my face. He stands, but stays in front of me. He remains quiet for a moment, then, with a mysteriously dangerous voice, he mutters, “I ought to wipe your memory.”
Shock sends jolts of horror and fear through me, snapping my head up to look at him. Although I yearn to say something, it’ll make me feel as if I’m surrendering. So I plead with him using widened eyes, slackened jaw and raised eyebrows.
His gaze grows malicious. “No. We need you in working conditions. You’re going to be a ransom, and a Treated girl is not worth much.”
I am caught so off guard that I allow words slip through my lips. “What’s the need for a bloody ransom?”
His eyes widening are the only emotion registering on his broad face besides the dark dangerous look. “You’re foreign.” He permits laughter to leave his mouth. “Then you are even worth more. I shall make sure to raise the payment by hundreds. No, a hundred of those pathetic soldiers of Impedance. We’ll make Treated warriors out of them.”
“They’ll never surrender!” I yell, struggling to keep my voice steady. Then, I hear the smack before I feel it. The pain suddenly sears through my skin, lighting a fire beneath my right cheek, resonating through the tendons and sinews of the bone. I feel something loosen on the inside of my mouth, and I flick my tongue around. One of my back teeth comes loose and grazes against my tongue, and I spit it out of my mouth, sending sprays of saliva and blood onto the floor. I keep my head turning away from the General as he begins to talk again. To keep my gaze down, I look at the bloody molar lying lonely on the ground without its companions.
“Silence, fool!” he hisses, brushing his hand along his chest, as if cleansing himself of filth. “You know nothing. You are nothing. Impedance obscenity...you disgust me.” He abruptly walks away from me, leaving his disparaging words hanging in the air, resounding in my ears. The sharp sound of the slamming door sends a fresh jolt through me, but not by fear.
I slump back to the wall, for once enjoying the pain searing through my face and currently my upper back as it connected with the hard stone wall. I use it to distract me from the violating words that threaten to enter my thoughts and rupture my peace of mind.
But, my attempts are all but too late. Soon, I let my body submit into a feeble, weak position; head tucked in between knees, legs curled up to the chest, and arms wrapped tightly around the legs. As I allow permission to my body to behave in such an unguarded manner, my eyes let out an onslaught of tears that I have bottled up for many years.
Kidnapped from the resistance, my near-death torture. My friends, my family. Losing them and going through all this…it has finally broke me, the derogatory remarks being the breaking point of my very mind’s capability to withstand such torment. It shattered my heart and soul into tiny, miniscule fragments.
I don’t think that I’d be able to tape back the pieces on my own.
In the corners of my mind, away from the outer appearance of my body racking violently with my sobbing, I try to think of what I want most. Maybe if I think of that one thing, just maybe, I might stop this crying deplorable to my inner pride.
What do I want most right now?
Someone beside me. With their arms around me.
But who?
I freeze at the words ringing in my mind. Who?
Well, the answer should be obvious. I just figured it now.
Dimitri.
At some point, I think I might have fallen asleep. Because, as I lift my head, the barred windows are barely containing the dull reddish hue of early morning. I blink away the slumber, my eyes puffy and raw. As the clarity returns to my eyesight, I see a white something in the corner of my eye. Turning my head to the right, I see that the object is a tray, barely filled with a mushy-looking pudding, a few sliced bananas visible in the paste.
I immediately cringe at this sight. There is no way I will eat that rubbish. Nor will the wardens -if any- can make me swallow it. If they try, I’ll spit it out at their faces.
Using cramped legs and arms from yesterday’s forbidden position, I crawl my way over to the tray. I push it closer to the door, so anyone that walks in will open the door and bang it against the tray.
Shuffling back to my spot against the wall, I curl my legs close to my chest, emitting a sigh from my lips as my chin lays firmly on my knees. Time passes without a sound; I keep myself occupied by watching the dawn light strengthen and grow brighter. Then, I begin to wonder where exactly where I am. Even though Di. Grigori said I was still in the Sacramento Capitol building, I need to make sure.
I slowly raise myself into a standing position, my limbs screaming in protest. But I ignore them and stagger my way to the window. I notice that my body give the occasional twitch, marking the electrification that still seems to run through my body. The pain is not as severe, but as my body does tremble, I do feel the subtle to mild throbbing pain at the site of each twitch.
The window is extremely high, reaching up at about 6 feet. I sigh in annoyance, hating my unusual short height of a girl my age. So, I wrap my hands around the metal post of the bunk bed closest to the window. The effort to pull it underneath the window takes about all my now lowered strength capacity, but I do not give way. Instead, as I arranged the bed correctly, I climb up on it using the ladder, my grip on each rail brightly showing the whites of my knuckles.
Once I reach the top, I lean forward and peek my head out the window. The metal bars blocking my hand from free movement in and out the window opening obscure most of my view, but I can see enough. I must be in the basement, for the concrete is at my eye level, the gray cement grated with dark-colored stones. Looking upwards does not help, either. There is nothing to see, really. Just the gray sky occasionally letting go of some moisture.
With a sudden sense of panic and hope mixed together, I realize that anyone can hear me, if I speak through this window. But, who knows if anyone will even pass through here?
A sudden feeling of immense loneliness washes through me, forcing me to lean back and close my eyes. “Why was I so stupid?” I mutter to myself. I can’t believe I let the Government drug fully take a hold on me. I could have fought against it and climb into the truck, safe and sound.
The sound of distant jingling catches my attention, causing me to open my eyes and stare at the door. I lean back against the wall and wait.
The noise grows louder, finally reaching the door of her cell. I see yellow Timberland boots at the bottom of the door, where there is space to see other people’s shoes. The jingle sound goes off again, this time loud and annoying. I hear several clicks, then the person pushes the door inwards to open the door.
A tall, lanky man with reddish-brown curly hair stands at the doorway, his hands stuffed into his black jacket’s pockets. “You are to appear in front of a court audience, miss.”
A court? No one told me about this. Not even the General had mentioned anything to me. Well, not that he would.
Painfully, I climb my way down to the ground, finding that my left leg gives a little under my weight. I wobble on my feet, but do not fall. I withhold the limp and trudge over to the redhead. He eyes me with a blank expression, as if he was bored. He turns abruptly away, stuffing his keyring with about a thousand keys on it into his back pocket. He walks out into the hallway, making me follow closely behind.
Fool. Does he not know that I am behind him? His keys are of easy and quick access to me.
What if I have the time to steal away with the keys and find an exit out of here? What if I find the infirmary room I was held in about a day ago? I can slip on my clothes and equipment and make a clean getaway.
No, Trystan, I scold myself. Stop with the what ifs. What we need now is facts. Information. Go get it.
I lift my gaze from the redhead’s Timberlands, staring at the nape of his neck. “So,” I venture lightly, making sure my voice seem disinterested and defeated. “Where am I, to be exact?”
“Underneath the Sacramento-”
“No, no. I already heard that before. Where am I?”
He pauses a little. Then, with a glance behind him, “Corridor fourteen. It won’t do you much good memorizing this. You’re not coming back here, anyways.”
His words are bleak. No emotion. But it has to have a meaning.
“What does that mean?” I ask him, feeling my chest grow cold as the answer prods its way into my mind. Or at least, what I think it means.
“Just think about the court you’re about to face. Remind yourself what the penalty of trespassing is.”
Tremors ripple through my body. Of course, I know the rules and regulations of the Government. No one is expected to trespass if their Treated.
The penalty for trespassing onto anyone’s land or building without permission is death.
