Subdue-X

Bitter Red

I could see the city glistening in the hazy distance. The light pollution stained the night sky a muddy yellow-orange. My stumbling sprints through the streets ricocheted inside my memories—all the trips and the road rashes, every sharp edge of pain still echoing somewhere deep in my bones. But even those memories felt distant, like they belonged to someone else.

I couldn't find my way around those buildings. When you're running for your life, you don't pick up on landmarks, signs, or numbers. You just pick up your feet. We found ourselves following shadows, or shadows following us. All of us were new to the game and the maze. I can't say we were curious about where we were going or what was in the backpacks we weren't allowed to unzip. We didn't want to know any of it.

Edmonton was simply the training hill at a ski resort, and anywhere else was the mountain the helicopter drops you off on without an avalanche beacon. A burner phone maybe, if the battery was charged. I can't remember a time when we really had the chance to use one.

All of it was irrelevant now, just fragments of a life that felt unreal. None of it was really training; it was more of a distraction from the actual purpose they had for me. I laughed airily as I recalled the backpacks over my shoulders during our item transportation jobs. I was supplying the poison that they used on me. I aided them with something that could’ve killed me. I was dragging that nameless serum along with me all this time. I chuckled a little louder through my stale lips.

Drug lords to scientists across countries, sharing interest in research that would torment souls. Money being tossed about by higher-ups craving a slice of the prize if any of this becomes a success.

I heard footsteps approaching me softly from behind. I smirked bitterly, "The core of this world you build is nanotechnologists and scientists consumed by a program to erase what makes a person human."

He stood beside me and folded his hands on the concrete balcony railing I sat on. He fiddled with his hands and lifted his dark eyes toward me, "Why are you up here?"

I ignored his words since he didn't bother to listen to mine. I bit the inside of my cheek irritably. I suddenly didn't know where to plant my gaze because everywhere I looked, it felt uncomfortable. "I'd like to be left to myself—"

He huffed at my request and turned around, plastering his back to the railing. "Leave you on a rooftop?" His eyes burned a hole into my temple. "Really?" His voice was stubborn but quiet.

"I'm not interested in jumping—"

"I'm not convinced."

"What makes you think I'm trying to convince you?"

He crossed his arms, not to be defensive because his face looked puzzled. He was intrigued. "Red wine or white."

"Neither."

"Red," he grumbled, making his way back down the stairs to our penthouse. I became secretly exasperated. I leaned over the ledge just to measure how high I sat. My head spun with vertigo, and I quickly shoved myself back, gulping in air forcefully. Pin didn't want me anywhere near him, but he let me. He'd check up on me over a certain span of time I'm sure.

I abruptly had the sensation of anticipation, and it felt good. I leaned over once again and felt my head sway. I choked back an emotion I couldn’t place a name to and immediately embraced the thought of the sick thrill of falling.

"That's quite enough," Christian's hands clasped around my waist and dragged me off the railing as I was internally screaming. He didn’t seem overly fazed by it; he casually handed me a wine glass but with hesitant eyes.

We had this unspoken habit of consuming red wine when we were at war with each other; white when things seemed alright. As I took a sip, I noticed his shifty gaze gliding at me then around the roof. It was as if he was on something.