The Test // One Direction

Chapter 3

Olsen comes without warning, hours later. He is a tall man, slim body. Bald. He has blue eyes, not beautiful but almost scary. A lab coat. Perfectly white teeth, hardened face with stress wrinkles.

"I am Mr. Olsen, leader of this... experiment, so to speak." He smiles softly, and I blink hard. What does that mean?

After Zayn left, I was thinking about how I could get out of here. But when Olsen opened the door wide, many white coats were passing each other in a hall. But one of them was fighting. Red shirt I remember, with crazy eyes. Blonde hair was tangled and the white coats pulled her arms back. That's all I saw.

There are more imprisoners. And more workers.

Olsen has a clipboard tight against his stomach, clenching it so hard is knuckles are white. "We are here for the good of the world, I want you to remember that Hannah."

I nod, wanting him to continue. He does. "You are here, along with others, to go through a multitude of tests. It will bring out many sides to you, and I would be lying if I said they were pleasant. I will not tell you where we are, why we chose specific people, and what the tests are about. This will overwhelm the body, and we need it for Test 1. Test 1 will take place in The Hall. This is where they all take place. You will be washed and dressed appropriately, and be ready by tomorrow afternoon."

"What is the tests? Are you jabbing a bunch of needles in me?" My words are fast and nervous.

He smiles secretly. "It wouldn't be much of a test if you knew what was in it, would it Hannah?"

He leaves the room, mumbling about work he has in his office. Some lady comes in, and there is a black star on her temple. It looks like a tattoo. She doesn't speak, and she is a little robotic as she moves.

She places folded clothes on the edge of the bed, and helps me to my feet. My feet feel numb and heavy, but I can definitely walk.

She is smaller than I am, skinny and vulnerable. They must have assigned her to me because they figured I wouldn't hurt her. They were wrong. Kind of.

I fall down, after faking limps. I wince and grit my teeth, and she goes to aid my foot. As her hand stretches out, I pull on it hard and she crashes to the ground.

For a few minutes she is dizzy and silent. But by the time she tries to get up, part of my sheets have been tied to keep her on the ground. I tied her feet and hands. Removing the lab coat, I attempt to smooth down my wild hair.

It doesn't fit that well, but it will get me awhile. Problem is I don't know how to get out of this place. I haven't even gotten out of this room.

I use her key to unlock the door, and I breath out a sigh of relief. There is only a few people.

On my door, a small black sign recognized me as Patient 108. On every door around me it says Patient... This must be just patients on this floor (Obviously).

I have to leave this place. "Excuse me?" I ask a young man who has furrowed brow. His name tag says Niall. "I am new here, and I can't seem to find my way back to the main floor." I gave him a dazzling smile, innocent.

This is a bad idea, my brain tells me. But I don't have a choice.