The Conquering (Book #2 in The Inception Trilogy)

chapter eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EXPERIMENT 748 GROWLS TO himself in annoyance as he paces the few feet of his cell. His torso and back still sting from the lashings, his shoulder stills burns from the branding, and his throat still aches from what feels like his umpteenth operation. He won't stay here a second longer; he refuses. While there's a remaining piece of his sanity, he will abandon this damned place and be free.

But that remaining piece of sanity is slowly fading.

His vision blurs in and out, his mouth waters with the faintest beat of a heart passing by his cell, his fingers twitch with the desperation to rip something apart, his stomach knots with hunger. But he will not eat what his mind is screaming at him too; he refuses.

He begins to run his hands along the bricks, feeling for a draft or a crack or something to use to his advantage. He'll take down every single brick holding this building together if he must. He should've snagged the opportunity to escape again yesterday when he was thrown in the back of a truck. He could've easily broken out of the chains and disappeared before the drivers even knew something was wrong. He could kick himself for not listening to his instincts.

Now he's in another cell that seems more established than the last. There's also more hearts here. They give him a headache if he listens too long, so many clashing together discordantly. But oh, how they make his stomach ache. If he could just get one to step foot inside his cell, then he--

No.

He refuses.

He claws at his hair to occupy his fidgeting fingers while he steady skims the wall with his other hand. Wait. What is that? He backs up, retracing his hand around the area. There. A crack he had nearly passed from being so distracted. It's far too small for his fingers to fit in, but that doesn't stop him from scraping at it until his fingertips bleed. He keeps going, ignoring the blood though even his own makes him salivate.

He breaks off a corner of the brick.

Excited now, he shoves two fingers into the new hole and pulls, easily popping the brick out of the wall. He starts punching all the bricks around the space, knowing the noise is drawing attention but hoping he'll be too quick for them. By the time they get here, they'll be staring at an empty cell.

He has to hoist himself up since the open area is just at height with his shoulders, but the moment he crawls out of the space, he pushes to his feet and starts running. But he skids to a stop just as quickly.

This can't be happening.

Confused, he stumbles while trying to look around. What he thought was the outdoors turns out to be fake grass and bright lights. In front of him is a dead end. To the left is a wall. To the right is another wall--no, it's glass. He recognizes it from his initial training over two years ago where people with clipboards and white coats would watch him and jot things down. He hadn't bothered with the glass then, but he also hadn't been infuriated like he is now.

They stole everything from him, and now they're stealing his hope? Manipulating him into relief only to shatter the illusion moments after. They won't get away with this.

Not anymore.

It's stupid, but he does it anyways: he runs for the glass. He knows it won't break on the first try. It's made to withstand attacks from monsters like him. He wants them to think that they're perfectly safe behind this one-sided mirror, but then he'll give them the scare of their life. He will break this glass even if it means breaking some of his own bones to do so.

He bangs on his reflection, his eyes dark and menacing. He bangs again, harder this time to make the people inside squirm. He stands still for a moment or two, a false sense of serenity for those on the other side. Let them see how he felt when he thought safety was just in his reach. Let them think they're safe.