Silenced- Part One

Silenced Part 1

* Note-this is an excerpt from an unpublished novel.  Release date TBA. 

Chapter One

The Enforcers of Compound Six throw a body part into my cell each time I say no. On day seventy-two, it sounds like a rotted arm. It lands on a fleshy pile with a light thud. Means it's petite. Possibly female.

I'm in near constant pain, but at least I'm a body part savant.

Fifteen ticks later, my cage floods with white light. The blinding kind in long stretches of desert. The kind that is unending. I try to blink it out. Two ticks later, metal clamps force my eyes open. I sputter, trying to inflate my lungs, but the air stings. Breathing was easy before I had a titanium mask strapped around my face.

The constant torture doesn't help much either.

I wonder why I'm not dead for five ticks. Then, I remember my life is about numbers and my ticks haven't run out.

My eyes prickle, unable to get moisture under the blazing lamps. Red orbs swim above me, until all I see is a crimson smudge. Even without my sight, I know how many claw marks float above the white light.

Seventy-two slashes on the ceiling of this cage. All left by me.

That means I only have eight days left.

A click clack sound distorts in my ears. Echoing like drunken footsteps. The clicks are high pitched. Heels this time. Not boots.

The lights dim, and I try to blink. Pain rips into me and I make myself stop before the clamps rip off my eyelids. I'm about to fail when soft hands remove the jagged metal, and I blink for the next thirty ticks. It almost feels good until thirst burns my throat, and I crave the salt water in my eye sockets.

"You need fluids, Pike."

Juliet's pale, oval face floats above me. Her ice blue eyes are calm. She smiles down at me, the angel of bullshit. A gesture of mercy after Boomer and the twenty lash whip. I want to taunt them, my tormentors, but hunger is eating my insides. My back feels like hamburger meat.

Metal shrieks against the floor of my cage. Juliet has pulled up her silver stool. She sits beside me like a nurse. "Pitch was scheduled for this slot, but I switched with him because you're not sweating. You need fluids."

Exhaustion takes away any smart-ass comment I might normally make.

"I'd like to remove your muzzle so that you can drink and eat. Do you think we can do that? Or do you prefer another IV?"

Thirty days ago, my fists would have balled up. Right now, in Juliet's sixty-minute slot, I could give a shit about fighting back. I go to my head, the only safe place here, and fantasize about Juliet on her knees. The thought rushes through me for twelve ticks. It's enough. It means my mind is still here. They won't get to me.

I hope.

"Well, what's it going to be, hon?"

I blink three times.

"That's my boy." She stands, click-clacks to the corner of my cage, and knocks three times. There is a whip of wind from the small chute in the cage door, then the clang of the golden key.

The evil bitch floats back to my side. She cradles my head like a mother before she reaches around to unlock the facemask. As she pulls it off I choke on copper. She coos to calm me down, and yanks three wires out of my throat.

I want to be stoic, but I hack and wheeze. My cell smells like shit and dead bodies. I almost ask for the fucking mask back. Instead, I'm thrashing against the wrist and ankle restraints and gagging. Juliet rushes to unlock the cuffs. As the last one on my right ankle falls open, I arch my back and spew vomit up onto my face.