I'm staring at the ceiling, trying to find a pattern, when the man walks back in. He carries a bundle of clothing; green capris, a black tank top, and a set of black socks, looking uncomfortable and slightly green hesitating in the doorway. He walks to my cot and drops the bundle by my leg. I flinch and he stiffens, "Um... Your boots are under there," he points at my mud encrusted leather boots by the door.
"Thanks," I mumble and swing my legs over the side of the cot, gasping as the weight of them pulls at the stitches. The man rushes forward to help me but I shove him off, "I can do this myself." I slowly push myself to standing. ~Shit. That hurts.~
I take one step on my left leg. ~No. Its wrong.~ My leg fails and I fall into the man, cursing.
He lifts me back to sit on the crumpled sheets and, without a word, passes me the capris.
I dress in silence. The man, who tells me his name is Mathew, slides my boots onto my feet, lacing them without another word. When he stands, I'm staring at my knees but I can feel his eyes on me.
The door swings open, making us both jump, "Lieutenant Annabeth," a woman in a long white coat announces, as the door collides with the wall, "You have been place under surveillance until you are deemed emotionally stable enough to rejoin your team," she walks around the cot to stand in front of me, "Now that you are awake you've been requested for questioning." She looks to Mathew, "Find the lieutenant a crutch and escort her to room 392," she scribbles something on a green notepad and tears it out, "Then return to your work."
Mathew takes the paper and the woman retreats out the door again.
I eye the paper, "What's that say?" I peer over his arm to read the tiny scribbles.
He shoves the slip into his pocket, "I'll find you crutches."
As he walks around the room towards the door, I catch a glimpse of myself in that gargantuan mirror.
I hardly recognize the girl that stares back at me.
Her skin is pale and yellowish. Her eyes are sunken into her skull; cloudy and distant. Her hair, in tangled, frizzy curls, surrounds that sickly face. I scoff at my reflection and twist my matted hair into a knot at the crown of my head. The girl looks scared and frail and I have to look away.
Mathew returns moments later with two aluminum crutches clutched in his hand. He helps me stand and we begin out the door, his finger tips pressed gently into my spine.
"What did she mean 'emotionally stable enough'?" I ask as we turn left down a long hallway.
Mathew furrows his brow and glances down at me, "You mean you don't remember yesterday? What you did?"
"No?" I drag out the word. What does that mean? Yesterday? All I remember is the raid and getting stiches. I have no idea why I'd be in containment. What did I do that landed me there? I almost don't want to know.
"Annabeth- Lieutenant," he corrects quickly, "You attacked three nurses."
~What?~ "What?"
"You attacked them. Bruised ones spine and cut another's arm with your nails. I have no idea how Sage got you to calm down enough to get the anesthetic in you," he glances at me as we turn left again, "You really don't remember?"
I try to recall some part of what he mentioned. "Not really. Who's Sage?" I ask curiously.
"Big eyes; really pale; bright red hair." ~Oh. Red.~
"Oh, yeah. I remember her being in the cot next to me, but that's all," Mathew remains silent..
The hallway turns right to a set of large double doors. The numbers 3-9-2 are printed large and red on the right door.
"This is it?" I ask looking to Mathew. He nods, the movement sharp and painful, "Okay." I blow out a long breath, stalling for some reason, like there's a hand holding me back by my collar.
I shake off the strange feeling and we push through the silver doors into a small crowded room. Captains' and other Lieutenants' uniforms blur together. Through the swarm of bodies I catch a look at a window on the far side of the room. Sage, lovely as ever sitting lightly in a black folding chair, is looking straight at me.
Well not at /me/ but at the glass window. She can only see the mirror side. Her green eyes are wide and exhausted and her hair falls over half her forehead.
The man in the room with her leans down at her and splays his hands on the table, and she looks up at him. She seems to stifle a smile; the corner of her mouth barely tipping upwards. Weird.
"Ana," Mathew whispers, brushing his fingers at the back of my arm. I look at him, still standing in the door way, "This is where I have to leave," his voice is tight.
"What?" No he can't leave. I have no idea who I need to talk to or where to go, "No. You can't. I don't-" He grips my wrists.
"Come find me when you get out, okay?" He looks me in the eyes, reassuringly. I nod. "Okay," he repeats, releasing my wrists, "Ask for Doctor Wai." He turns and walks out the door, tossing me a small smile over his shoulder as the door swings shut.
I stand still a moment longer, then turn back around. I clear my throat, "Uh... I'm looking for Doctor Wai?"
A small Asian man turns around, "Ah, Lieutenant!" he rushes to me and grasps my bicep, "We've been waiting for you to come to. This way," he spins on his heal and pushes through the hoard of people. I can barely keep up with him despite his smallness.
"Y'see, when someone of your seniority attacks our staff it raises some heads-"
"But I don't even remember what happened," I interrupt, "How am I supposed to answer any questions if I don't know what happened.
He shrugs, "I don't know. They'll figure it out I'm sure," he opens a door leading into another interrogation room and motions for me to sit. I ease into the chair. He nods once and exits the tiny room, leaving me in the silence.
Six minutes go by and I still haven't moved when the door swings back open. A short man with dark skin and a bald head enters followed by a ghostly pale young woman in all black.
"Lieutenant Annabeth," she announces, "You have been permanently dismissed from the Rebellion."
"What?" I ask, incredulous. Since when did they dismiss people? I thought you only got out if you died.
The man drops a brown case on the table and lifts the lid.
She glances down into the case, then back up at me.
In one motion she pulls an oil black handgun from the case, and points it at my forehead.
"We are incredibly sorry," and she pulls the trigger.
YOU ARE READING
The Forgotten
ПриключенияAnnabeth is dead. She doesn't exist except to the Rebellion, who just murdered the world's leaders. Her past is buried deep in her mental safe. But when she, the red haired girl, and the grey eyed boy end up in the same infirmary late one night, her...
