The Enhanced

Chapter Fifty One

When I woke, I forgot where I was, what I was doing.

And then, when I crane my neck to glance around the room something in my stomach drops. I was in the infirmary, in a hospital bed. My arms were bound, just above my elbow, as to avoid the wound.

I glance down at my arms, they were bandaged up all the way, and there were blood stains all over the bedding. The clock to my side tells me it is early afternoon.

I lean back and stare at the ceiling. I failed. I wasn't dead, I hadn't managed to kill myself. I was still here.

I was still here.

My heart pumps and everything inside of me begins to bubble over. I was still here. I was still trapped. The hurt, the anger, the betrayal, the sadness begins to become to much. I fight against the leathers cuffs on my arms, kicking my legs and straining against the material.

At some point, I begin to scream, scream and cry. A nurse enters to check on me and her eyes go wide with worry and fear. She tries to speak to me but I am too busy trying to get free. She bustles off to find someone to help.

I swear and cuss with every word I know, the rage inside of me gives me a sense of power I haven't felt in a long time. I feel the bed groaning under me and use it to increase my power. my throat is so hoarse that I can't say a word, I'm barely screaming anymore, just grunting with the effort to get free. My lowers arms ache with pain but I ignore it, I didn't care anymore. This was going to be the end, I decide.

The leather flexes with my movements and I glance down to notice a small tear on my right arm. I grunt with effort as I flex against it, pushing y arm with all the strength I had. Several nurses appear and I hear the talk of guards coming. Suddenly, everything is shot into focus and I knw this was a race against time.

The leather tears as throw myself against and a suddenly all the nurses disappear out of the room. I use my had to unbuckle my left arm, groaning in pain. My wounds were still fresh.

Even from my bed, I hear the familiar stomps of guards coming down the hall. I spring from my bed in a second and catapult myself through the doorway. Searching around, all I am met with are the terrified stares of nurses. And then, at the end of the hall, something catches my eyes.

A window.

Even if the glass was thick, I could get through it, I tell myself. The guards begin to come from the right so I throw myself left and begin to sprint past each room, past scared faces and away from the converging men.

I was crossing the distance faster than I could ever imagine, my legs felt stronger than ever, the glass drawing nearer. This would be my final exit, I tell myself.

Just as I near it, I squeeze my eyes closed once again, ready to accept my fate, ready to embrace the darkness.

A great force makes contact with my shoulder, but I open my eyes in confusion when there is no glass shattering. There are pained groans as I look around in panic. There were four guards on the floor in front of me. Two seemed as if they were completely unconscious, the others roll around in pain, clutching various body parts.

My heart stops and I scream again, launching myself at the glass once again. But I am held back, two sets of arms hold onto me and I thrash and kick, straining against them, But the rush of adrenaline and power is gone, and I am just a helpless little girl screaming in the hall again.

I collapse backwards against the wall and feel the tears streaming down my face before I am even aware that I am crying. The guards let go of me but converge in a circle around me, careful not to let me move or stand.

I leam my head back against the wall, and begin to sob quietly.

Something inside me had broken.

Slowly, the guars move aside to make space, Jones steps forward and stands among them for a second, I stare stare at him through my tears, unwilling to be defiant anymore. His eyes meet mine and seem to hold all the sadness and pain in the world.

I don't fight him when he pulls me up, or when drapes my arm over his shoulder and helps me along the corridor. But instead of taking me back to the infirmary, he helps me all the way across the building to my bedroom. Neither of us speak, in face, I wasn't sure I could anymore.

When we finally reach my room, he sits me on my bed and stands to the side. But he doesn't leave.

I look at him expectantly. It seemed as if a battle was going on in his head.

"What?" I croak out, barely audible.

He sighs and takes a seat at the end of my bed. "I believe in this experiment, Juliet." He says.

I raise an eyebrow and sit back in bed, ready to get mad at him all over again.

There is silence for a moment as he thinks. "I had a daughter. I had a daughter, and I believed in this experiment so much that I let her take part, I believed in this experiment so goddamn much that I let her die for it," he explains.

Nothing in the world could help me mask my surprise, my horror, at hearing him say those words.

"Who was your daughter?" I ask, feeling the face of every single girl I had over met flash in my mind.

He seems to read my mind and shakes his head. "She was one of the first, the first forty five girls. Her mother had died a few months before, she was thirteen years old and she signed up without my permission. By the time i found out, she had already had her first round of drugs. I remember... I was devastated, livid, I felt betrayed by her," he replies.

I nod and let him continue.

"Well, I was an army man and they were looking for volunteers and I read about the trials and I thought it was good cause and I joined it. My daughter died a few months later, by my side, fighting until the end. I've been here all this time, because I thought if I could help somehow, make the experiment successful, create the perfect test subject, then her death would have been for something."

The tears in his eyes make me feel like I might be dreaming, Jones didn't cry, he couldn't, it just didn't make sense.

"You're not a mother yet, Juliet, but when you are you'll know that nothing ever, ever will make your child's death worth it. Nothing will make up for it, or make you feel less responsible. Nothing. But all that time I've spent trying to make up for it, I took your life away and I wasted the second chance I got to be a father, and I am so sorry."

I feel myself choke ever so slightly, imagining the pain in his heart over even saying any of this.

There is a silence that settles over us as we feel each other's pain, as we embrace our pasts. I feel all of it, my own and his and a sense of nostalgia comes over me as I think about it all, all the memories and experiences that have passed by me.

Jones looks at me and musters a small, but reassuring smile, he takes my hand and squeezes as hard as he dare. And then, without another word, he stands and leaves, clicking the lock on his way out.

In a state of disbelief and possibly shock, I lean back in my bed and hug the covers around me, trying to comfort myself. I was so wrapped up in my own mind, I hadn't eve noticed my freshly washed bed, and the lack of blood all over it.

My head swirls thinking about all the bad things that seem to happen to good people, and I even imagine what Jones' daughter may have looked like. She would have been an adult now, maybe she had eyes like his, maybe her hair was the same colour. I realise as I sit there, that Jones probably ponders this every night. What type of person she would have become, how she would have looked, what college she would have attended, what job she ultimately decided to do, if she was married or had anyone. All of those missed opportunities, all of that lack of life that had been stolen from her.

Nothing is able to bring me comfort as the feeling of loss and regret envelopes me, suffocating me. And more than ever, all I can think is; where is Aiden?

Is he alive?

Is he looking for me?

Has he found me?