Run.

F O U R

                        •Ryker•

Her lips are red and plump, her teeth too white. "Name?" She asks me, eyes never leaving the paper and pen on her desk.

I shift from side to side, "Ryker."

Her eyes roll back. "Yeah okay. Because you're the only Ryker in the whole world idiot. Give me your full name."

I swollow the lump in my throat. Her lips pursed into a line, yet back down on her paper, waiting to write down things like my name.

Her eyes meet mine, growing wide. "My God kid, what happened to you?"

I ignore her last comment, "Are you apart of the government?" I ask her. It's all I can say.

I watch her pause in time, her eyes glued to the ground, stuck on a moment. Finally she lifts her head, narrowing her eyes at me.

I secretly conclude I made the wrong decision in asking, because her death glare is far worse than no eye contact at all. "Why? Is there something you find Amiss like about me?"

Oh gosh. I didn't mean to insult her. But why should being Amiss born be an insult? She grinds her teeth and punctures me with her laser eyes. "No. Not at all. I'm sorry for asking. The names Ryker Tenith Williams."

A small, but wicked smile falls upon her lipstained lips. "Okay then. Ryker you may turn to your left, and walk down the long hall way until you reach door 357, from there, you enter and your test will begin." She hands me a peice of fansy looking plastic.

I examine it for a few seconds too long. "Excuse me miss, but what is this?"

A spasm of laughter jumps its way out of her mouth. "A card key. Never seen one before eh?"

I give her a dumb founded look. "A card key? Like I put this in a lock and it works? I don't understand."

All I've ever used to get in and out of places is an actual metal key. Not one made of plastic. And it's too rounded, no defining edges like a metal key. How could that possibly be different from some random other peice of plactic.

Her eyes scan me, pitying me in a making-fun-of-me kind of way. "Yes it works. I don't have time for your poor educational skills. I just forgot that you and all of Amiss are dumb and don't know these kinds of things." She tosses her hair to the side, as if it makes her look justified when in fact she isn't.

I squeeze my palm, my nails digging into my skin. "Excuse me miss, but your pens are all over the ground."

She looks at me confused in this moment, so I help her figure it out. I grab the cup of pens on her desk and poor them all out on the ground.

I would normally never disrespect someone like that, especially a women. But there's a special place for people like her, a special place for people who see Amiss as crawling with inhuman low life creatures. A special place for people who think they're tough shit and shining with a million diamonds on them. Because that's bullshit.

...

The hallways are too white, peiceing me with their pristine facade. I keep my eyes glued to the black and white tiled floor. Marvelous, so much work has gone into this place, so much stupid effort to create a test building. So much effort that could have been put into helping the sick be cured in Amiss.

I feel a growling creature in my stomach. Hate. I name it Hate. Disgust. I stop in front of my testing room.

The numbers 357 plated with a silver coat of metalic medal stamped eye level on the white door.