Beyond Control

20

We finished power training later that evening. Nothing happened that was worth noting, except I had a massive bruise slightly smaller than the size of my hand on my left arm thanks to Chandler's barrier. I wasn't the only one that was bruised and battered. I recalled one of the last scrimmages in our group against Emiko, where I left a nasty wound on her leg. As you know by now, fighting has never been in my best interest, so I felt terrible injuring her. I obviously couldn't do anything about it with the doctor breathing down my neck.

Taryn was far from okay. After the incident between her and the doctor, she said nothing to anybody. After training, she had to visit the nurse, which I never knew existed down here. I was nervous that the doctor either fractured or broke a couple of her ribs due to how hard he kicked her. Taryn did her best not to show it, but she was obviously in excruciating pain to the point where she struggled to breathe. Could one of her ribs have punctured her lung? That was a terrifying thought. What would they do if Taryn was injured to where she couldn't train? Were they cruel enough to force her to continue training? What would they do if she died?

Much to my displeasure, I lost feeling in my legs and slumped against the shower wall onto the floor. Similar thoughts continued to plague my mind as I fought back tears. What if I wasn't strong enough? How expendable was I? Would they discard me like a piece of garbage, only to be wasted and forgotten?

I uncontrollably began to sob, which made me feel worse than I already did. I was never an emotional guy, meaning I never let myself get upset about things that were not worth wasting my time dealing with. Now, my world felt like it was crashing down on me while multiple thoughts flooded my mind.

Xavian...I'm so, so sorry. I can't help but feel like it was my fault that you're dead. I can only hope that you can rest easy. Your poor mother, I can't fathom the unbearable pain that she's going through.

There was no way I could understand the pain of a mother unexpectedly losing her child, especially in the brutal fashion in which he died. This whole thing could've been prevented if we hadn't decided to poke our noses in places we shouldn't have. Although, it was safe to assume that Hayward would've found me eventually. We still could've

Is my mom doing okay? I hoped she was at least keeping herself busy by looking for me and trying to find information about where we were and who I was currently with. It made me wonder if our disappearance was on the news. I figured it would be, considering it wasn't just one or two coincidental people, it was twenty-four of us. How much success were the authorities having?

Not much, clearly. I internally chided myself on how stupid of a question that was. Meanwhile, a rhythmic knock against the stained glass shower door interrupted my chaotic train of thought. I was fortunate that nobody could see how pitiful I was being.

The person who knocked spoke firmly. "Are you done feeling sorry for yourself? Other people need to shower, you know."

His strict, western voice surprised me, but I wordlessly willed myself off the floor and turned the water off. I grabbed my towel and tied it around my waist before opening the shower door. The person who shook me out of my thoughts wore a towel around his waist. He had hair with tight, messy brown curls that hung freely around his head and a muscular, toned body that defined him as an athlete.

"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered, not knowing how to greet him after our awkward first encounter. "I don't know what-"

The young man suddenly raised his hand to stop me. "Don't sweat it, man. I wasn't going to ask any questions."

"A-Alright," I continued to stutter while trying to suppress my embarrassment. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

His stern expression wavered. Suddenly, without words, he stuck his hand out for me to shake. "Let's start over. Jett. Nice to meet you."