A Hand To Take

One

I can't remember the last time I was able to see the sky. I can't remember the scent of fresh air or the feeling of grass beneath my feet. I can't remember what it felt like to be able to laugh or smile. I can't even remember what it was like to feel human.

It's been five years. Five years since I was trapped behind a glass wall underneath the Capital, and forced to be subjected to torturous tests and experiments, experiments that have made me regret my very existence. They made me hope that the other twenty-nine were dead so they wouldn't go through this hell again. The only benefit this torture gives people is allowing the sadistic bastards to enjoy themselves as all of us writhe in those god dammed chairs.

Each time a person in white unlocks the door to my cell, I can't help but panic at the thought of what they might do to me in the Chamber.

The Chamber is the place where the experiments and tests occur. It reeks of bleach and other chemicals and is a blindingly bright white. Every time I've been walked out there, they place me in the cold, metal chair that's placed in the right side of the room. After being sat there, I'm normally hooked up to weird devices that apparently monitor my heart beat and blood pressure whilst the tests take place. I usually forget what happens during them unless it involves immense pain or mental stress. Morbid, I know.

The previous time I was taken out there was the worst of all. Strapping me to the chair, they took a sample out of my eyes with a syringe, saying it was for an important examination. I can't help but shudder at the memory of the needle forcing its way through the tissue of my eyes or the pain that had shot through my head like a bullet--I wish it was.

They had also injected me with pain simulators for three hours, forcing me to keep quiet as I felt like I was being burned alive. Any time I uttered even the smallest whimper, they plunged another syringe into my bound arm, sending flames throughout my entire body over and over again.

Not even an hour after the simulations finished, I was taken to the fighting stage on the opposite side of the Chamber. There, I was instructed to fight another captive until the other was unable fight. And by unable to fight, I mean until one of us had taken the other's life.

I killed them. I didn't have a choice.

I can still remember their dark blonde hair, and blank brown eyes as they stood in front of me on the white mat, short sword in hand. When they ran towards me, all I could focus on were the words fight to kill echoing in my mind as I evaded their attacks with ease. The moment they had swung their blade towards my neck, I easily stepped to the left and thrust my sword through their heart, staining their white gown with blood. What happened after was a blur--a blur of crimson, white, and blonde, scented with the smell of sanitation chemicals.

Snapping out of my reverie, I look up from my pale, folded forearms and see a black haired woman in blue outside my cell. She motions to come to the door and smiles at me, the white of her teeth standing out against her dark skin as she does so.

Slowly, I push myself up from the cushion in the corner of the room and walk carefully to the square where I always have to stand on before the door opens. The concrete is cold against my feet and aches come in waves throughout my entire body whilst I wait for the woman to open the door.

Why am I here?

Why did they have to choose me?

What do they want from me?

Ever since I was placed in this cell, these questions ran through my head constantly. However, I could never get an answer from anybody, no matter how hard I tried.

There was another question I also used to ask. When I was first taken here at the age of twelve, I was separated from my twin brother, Chris, and was unable to know if he was alive. I wanted to ask the test observers if he was alive and even tried to do so, but now I have reason to believe that he's dead.

Dead like the person I killed.

Dead.

Just like I'm going to be.

My head snaps up at the sound of the door sliding upward, breaking the barrier between me and the woman in blue. The woman was slim, but not so much that one would think she was ill. She was just barely taller than me and her thick black hair was pulled back into a bun high on her head. Her face had soft features but there was a terrifying harshness to it.

She smiles at me again, and all I can do is look away from her and stare down at my small bare feet.

"Good morning Sage. Are you ready for today?" she asks, her sharp voice filled with false welcome.

I look up at her and stare at her dark eyes. Slightly, I nod and whisper an untruthful answer: "Yes ma'am."

The woman waves her hand to the hall that leads to the bathroom and guides me along. When we reach the entrance, she hands me a clean pair of white underwear, a cloth brassiere, and a new white gown from the small metal table beside us. I take the clothes and push open the door.

But before I can walk into the small bathroom, the woman places her warm hand on my bare shoulder.

I flinch before turning around in confusion.

"Wash up as well as you can Miss Carter, you have an important meeting with Dr. Andrews today."

My body freezes up at the name.

Please no.

Not him.

Not that monster.