Mad World

Chapter 2

Eris Cordova

All I wanted was to pass this God-dang test and get placed into the medical ward to help others. I wanted to give people the chance to have someone who would be there to help them live, only give them advice that would help them later in life, to be one that people felt comfortable talking to. I wanted to give them everything I never had. "Eris Cordova" a foster child, a mess up, a delinquent, unwanted, emotionally unstable, and semi-violent; and many more things that were untrue were listed on my Personality Application Chart (PAC). No one wanted to help a person who was believed to be a genetic screw-up. It was all a lie though. My aunt, who enrolled me within foster care, added all of these traits to my PAC so she could get me off her hands. All I had to do was pass the FPAT. Then I could reach my goal, for if I did well enough, I would be placed into a section where I could choose within a small category of jobs.

And then everything was ruined in a blink of an eye. I went through the FPAT. I felt confident about how I did. Next I was arrested for resistance, treason, and violation of governmental information. I have no freaking clue as to why they would suspect, and charge me of these heinous crimes. Friday night I was studying in my tiny room for the test that was supposed to change my life. Well it did change my life in a way, I have way more bruises covering my body now than I ever did in any of my previous foster homes. I have been beaten every forty-five minutes. Bruises covering my face, arms, and abdomen are prominent everywhere. How can they get information from an innocent citizen?

Lying on a hard and cold wooden table, I consider the fact as to how my "interrogators" knew everything that made me squirm. For example, not only am I on a hard wooden table that is used as my "bed" which reminds me of the punishments my aunt would give me when she caught me doing forbidden things such as, expressing yourself, she makes me sleep on a wooden board. But also, these people used my greatest pet peeve to their advantage. They restrained me. I feel like I am in a mental institute, heck they treat me like I am in a mental institute. You know what bastards 'News Flash' not all foster children are nut cases. I hear footsteps come down the hall, I wonder what it'll be this time: beatings, pressure regulators, or sedating and machinery. The metal door opens with a loud 'clank' making me jump and pulling against my restraints.

"Good morning, Ms. Cordova. Are you ready to talk? Please feel free to remember our conditions we mentioned earlier. If you refuse to confess to your crimes, or whereabouts that are accurate, we will have to take more desperate measures. Now, Ms. Cordova where were you on Friday, January 24th 2186 at roughly midnight?" A man with a heavy accent said as he pulled up a chair so close to me to where I could practically tell what he had for whatever his last meal was. Something about this accented man pissed me off, he squinted his eyes at me like the condescending bastard he is. He always did this and it drove me mad, hence the reason I call him "squinty."

"Well Squinty, like I have told you and that other bastard over there roughly forty-two times, I was sitting on the floor in my room practicing for my FPAT."

"Now tell me, why was this studying so important to you?"

"Because it was my only chance..."

Squinty cut me off, "To hack into the government's most protected databases?"

"No."

"Ah something just doesn't make me want to believe you. I really didn't want to do this, but desperate times call for desperate measures." He turns to "" who also interrogates me. This is more of a torture though. "Can you please hand me the knife sir?"

"Here you go," Baldie states handing Squinty a three-inch knife that appears to be sharp.

Turning back to me, "Cordova, this is your last chance. Did you hack into the governmental databases?"

"Oh for Christ's sake are you guys thick in the head? No! N-O. I did not hack..." I sharp pain ran through my forearm. I looked down and Squinty had made a three inch cut about a quarter inch deep running across my arm. "You son-of-a-gun! What the heck was that for?" I yelled through gritted teeth.

"Ms. Cordova where were you on Friday?" Baldie yelled.

"In my room stud..." Another slash in my arm, this time just slightly above the crease of my elbow. I had blood riding down the sides of my arms, pooling onto my "bed" and dripping onto the floor.

Baldie walked towards me, and presses his thumb into the second slash making my vision go black towards the edges. "Ms. Cordova, is there anything else you would like to say?" I start to open my mouth to speak and he presses harder. I scream and violently shake my head saying no. He releases my arm and flings his hand in the air shaking off my blood, which splatters onto my face. "You will regret your decisions Ms."

He being the idiot I am says, "Really? I thought you guys were doing this to make my quality of life better," in the most sadistic voice imaginable. Squinty backhands me and the last thing I remember before everything fades to black is the sounds of two bastards laughing.

:::

I wake up again to the clank of the metal door. I flinch only trying to imagine what horrors await me next. I was shocked to see a small petite woman walk through the door from hell. "Eris Cordova?"

I clear my throat and croak out a quiet, "Yes?"

"I am instructed to take you to the washing quarters to get you prepared for tomorrow's trial."

"Trial?"

"Yes Ms. Trials are held for all people involved in national security crises."

"Oh."

The small woman starts to untie my restraints and quickly replaces them with handcuffs. She then helps me to my feet, and steadies me as I almost fall over from my lack of strength. She grabs my cut arm, and I cry out in pain, "Sorry," she mutters. She leads me down a long dark gray corridor, and then takes a left, then a right, and through a pair of doors with turns into a bathroom. "I am going to give you a chance to bathe yourself, but if you try anything funny not only will you be punished for it later by the interrogators but I will give you the worst shower in history. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am." She intensifies her stare, and then goes and sits in a chair in the opposite corner of the small bathroom and pulls out her small tablet out of her pocket.

I limp over to the shower and adjust the touch panel to the settings for the water temperature. I wait until the light glows green alerting me that the water is at its programmed setting. I remove my blood soaked clothes and step into the warm shower. I wash the blood from my wound, skin, and hair. The warm water is soothing, but I know I should get back to my room to get some sleep for the trial awaiting me tomorrow. I turn off the water and see a towel and a fresh pair of clothes sitting right next to the shower. I dry off and dress in the new clothes.

The black shirt is soft but a few sizes too big for me, and the black pants are loose and flannel like. I comb my hair with my left hand, because my right arm has started to throb and bleed a little again. I glance to see where the little woman was, but she is gone.

I look around the small room and see that a door has opened and there is a green arrow directing me to go through it. It leads into a room with three beds, two of which have guys around my age laying in them. I continue to walk to the empty bed and the door shuts behind me. Then I realize that the other two boys are the ones I took the FPAT with.

This is going to be a very strange trial.