Rogue

4

~Alyssa~

My wrists hurt, but I don't say a word. Speaking is what got me here, anyway. So I stay absolutely silent and look around at the soldiers surrounding me and the others that are still here. No one else has died yet, so that's a plus.

A pin could drop in this room right now, and it would echo. Sure, it's always quiet when the soldiers are here, but this is a different kind of silence. It's the kind where you're too terrified to speak, to make a sound. It's the waiting silence, the one that settles over a place when people know that something is going to happen, like a bomb going off or a place getting shot up. It's a silence that only happens when someone is bracing themselves and waiting to die.

It's not the other people in this room that are this terrified, though. It's the soldiers.

I wince as the chains move upward, pulling me out of my thoughts. I am stretched on the wall now, higher than I can reach so my back is now bent at a slightly unnatural angle, my feet shackled to the floor. Every twenty minutes or so, the chains will move upward, making me bend and stretch further and further. All of the others are still sitting on the floor, though, waiting for something to happen. I can see Caroline cringe slightly when I begin moving up again, probably understanding how I feel. She was subjected to this once.

I look down at the bodies of Tom and Mikko. I think it's been several hours now since they've died, but the soldiers still haven't moved them. Large pieces of Tom's skin are now flaking off, falling onto the floor. All of the liquid has poured out of Mikko's skull, making the floor underneath him slightly darker. I'm not sure, but I can almost swear that there's an even darker liquid, something not normal, slowly seeping out of the right side of his head, right past his unseeing eye.

An alarm begins sounding, one that I've never heard before. Its wailing, high-pitched sound is drilling into my head. The soldiers look up in surprise, stepping out of their small, tightly-bound group. One of them begins loading his Volock, and the others follow suit, the electrically-charged bullets making small buzzing noises as they're loaded into the chamber. Then I see something that I never thought I'd see again before I died, a miracle that I haven't seen in years.

Bright, white light, pouring from small red alarm systems, rotating and running across our faces. I can see.

I can see the dingy gray walls covered in black stuff, and I'm not sure if it's mold or something from where the guns have been fired off for so long at so many people. I see the concrete floor, the many different bugs crawling around. Some of the handcuffs and shackles are beginning to rust, but not enough for anyone to break out of them. And I can see the people. I can see all of the people that I've been forced to sit with for hours on end for days, weeks, months, years. They all have a ragged appearance, their clothing torn and disheveled, faces covered in dirt, hair growing long and tangled. I'm sure I look the same way.

And I can see the horror in front of me in more detail, the metal shards that have scattered on the floor from Mikko's head, the black pieces of skin drifting on the floor from Tom, and the many bugs that are crawling over them, probably already beginning to feast on them. And I can see that whatever liquid that is on Mikko's face is crimson, staining his pale skin and sticking to his black hair, matting it. I squint, trying to figure out what it is, but I can't. A soldier begins to unshackle me.

Suddenly, I am on my feet and being shoved towards the next room. I stumble and fall, hitting the ground on my knees. I haven't walked for so long, and I definitely haven't ran. Before I can get up, before I can even fully comprehend what's going on, I am yanked to my feet and shoved forward again, heading into the pitch black room.

"Now I can see why you were one of the rejected ones," mutters the soldier behind me, giving me a harder shove. "Move! Weren't you even trained, you imbecile?"

Before I can answer him, tell him that I wasn't trained for anything, he's shoving something into my hands. When I feel around it, I can tell that it's a small knife with some kind of button at the end of the hilt. I press it, but nothing happens. The soldier sighs and snatches it away from me, pressing the button again before handing it back to me. "You were one of the ones that were taken right after the transformation, weren't you?"

"What transformation?" I ask.

"Forget that," snaps the soldier. "It's not important." He begins shoving me again. "It is not important because we're a few seconds away from being either blown to bits or ending up like your friends, shot up with our skulls smashed in no matter which way we go. When we step outside of these doors, you're not my responsibility anymore. So when I take off, begin shooting at the enemy, you can either stand there and be pumped full of lead or take off and hope that no bullets catch you, hope that you don't step on a mine. It's your choice."

I shake my head a little, not able to believe this. I'm going to be running through a war zone, and all I get to protect myself from sudden death is a flimsy knife that will be no match for a speeding bullet?

I've been freed just to be killed.

The soldier shoves past me and throws open a door, sprinting out of it and already taking precise aim. I close my eyes for a moment, ignoring the gunfire and reminding myself of the fact that I am going to reenter the world, at least for a moment. I am actually going to feel the night air against my skin, be able to breathe it in.

All I want to know is if it will hurt to be slammed into the ground, the butt of a gun cracking my skull as the enemy pounds it in. All I want to know is if it will be worse than last time when I get electrocuted, the bullet slicing through my heart and stopping it.

I guess I'll find out in just a moment.

I open my eyes again and see the soldier who was here a moment ago already ten yards away, stabbing a man in the eye with his sword. He then pulls out the sword and proceeds to slice the man's head open. Red liquid pours out, the same kind that was on Mikko's face. For some reason, it seems familiar to me, but I don't know why.

Clutching the small knife in my hand, getting a good, firm grasp on it, I take my first step outside.

And I begin running.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for reading this story up to this point! :) It really means a lot to me that you are. I hope that you're all enjoying it!

I am now about a tenth of the way to the 50K goal, but I hope to do more than that by the end of the month if I can!

And I would like to take this time to thank WickedPromises for the beautiful, amazing banner to the side! It's astounding, and it means a lot to me! Thank you so much! :)

That's it for right now, guys! I'm going to try to update three chapters tomorrow if possible, since I didn't get in my two today. I don't know for sure if I can, but I'll try my hardest.

Thank you again for reading! I love all of you, and I hope you have a great night! :)