Alone • Liam Dunbar

Twenty-Two

The girl's locker room was empty now, only Hayden and I inside. She was adamant about cleaning my hand to prevent infection and dragged me in here after my slightly deranged moment out in the hallway. I told her it wasn't necessary and I just needed to walk it off, which only ended up with her giving me a scolding glare that almost rivaled Melissa's.

She had ordered Brett to go to the nurse's office to get wrappings for my hand, that way I could avoid as many people as possible. He agreed without hesitation and claimed he'd be back soon enough.

The first-aid kit in Coach's office was lacking, most of it was cleaned out a long time ago and had never been replaced since then. All that was left were a few mini sticky bandages that wouldn't even cover my thumb and loose squares of gauze, as well as a half-filled bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"This is gonna sting," Hayden warns me.

She pours out the clear liquid across my knuckles, a white foam rising in the areas where my hand was split open. I could feel the distant stinging sensation start to creep under my skin but it didn't even make me twitch. Hayden gives me a concerned look at my lack of reaction but doesn't comment, resuming her ministrations on my injury.

With my free hand, I start to press random areas across my head, searching for a cavity that the Dread Doctors may have created in my skull. I come up empty. In fact, there isn't any proof or sign that I had been experimented on whatsoever. No bruising, no needle marks. Nothing.

It made everything all the more sinister.

They used their scientific and supernatural advancements to conceal aspects of my own body from me, taking what they wanted, when they wanted. I had no idea when it began or what exactly they used me for, all I did know was that, yet again, someone had stolen a part of myself I would never be able to get back.

"Are you feeling okay?" Hayden asks, her dark brown eyes watching me carefully.

"Yeah, I'm good."

She isn't convinced.

"Seriously, I'm fine. Just relax, Hayden." My voice has an edge of desperation, as if I'm begging for her to let this go.

Hayden's lips thin out into a straight line and her once kind eyes burn with contained annoyance.

"Relax?" she echoes me, quietly fuming. "I had to pull you back from the verge of a panic attack, you almost broke your own hand, and that's all you have to say? Relax?" She stares at me, waiting for an answer.

I could tell she was worried, anyone in their right mind would be, but her concern would only lead to questions, which she would beg for answers to, which would put her in danger.

"It's not as serious as you think," I say, almost a whisper.

Hayden contains her reaction and returns to tending to my hand. I don't allow my guard to drop though, as I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. Hayden wasn't the type to beat around the bush, but yelling at a friend who clearly just had a mental breakdown didn't leave the best impression. She was attempting to find the perfect middle ground between her internal frustrations and my avoidance of honesty.

I can tell when she finally does. Her gaze lifts to mine once more, features perfectly calm.

"Do you know why I work at Sinema?" she asks. Her question is ordinary and boring, an obvious trap.

"Mood lighting?" I quip, desperate to change the subject.

"I'm being serious." She scowls.

I let out a defeated sigh, knowing I couldn't avoid this. "No. I don't know."