Within the Maze

Little White Box

I guess you could say that I've gotten used to light sleeping in my years of being a test subject. When you constantly have people opening up your door and jostling you awake for testing and lockdowns, you never really experience that "coma-like" deep sleep. It's nights like tonight when I haven't gotten any sleep at all, that I really just wish they'd leave me be and skip all of the seemingly pointless tests for just one night.

I stare up at the blank ceiling, unmoving. A hundred thoughts running through my mind and yet I just can't grasp any of them. It's as if my conscious keeps dangling all of these thoughts, these memories, these remnants, in front of my face only to snatch them away as soon as I try to reach them. I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration and release a sharp puff of air.

There is, or was, something more to my life than what I have lived inside of this lab. Something before all of this. There has to be. I know that there is, I just can't quite grasp it.

My eyes snap open instinctively when I hear the strong, echoing, steps of someone approaching. I turn My door swung open, screeching and groaning under the weight of the heavy iron. This is not an unusual sound for me to hear at this time of night. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling momentarily, before groggily sitting upright. I swing my legs over the edge of my thin mattress. Light from the corridor pours in, stinging my eyes. I squint and hold my hand up until my eyes adjust.

A human figure stands in the doorway momentarily and then steps into my little room. The figure cleared its throat unnecessarily loud.

"Amelia, if you will follow me." The man's tone was low and serious, but still congenial, unlike some of the previous people who have visited me. If not congeniality then it was sympathy that shows in his eyes, and sympathy is better than nothing. I push off of the bed to stand up and my feet slap the icy floor beneath me, making a shiver race up my spine.

The man was growing impatient and tapped his foot as he watched me take my time putting on some thick socks. Once I had finished, I straightened and smirked at him.

"Okay. Lead the way Doctor... ?" I asked raising my eyebrow and inquiring his name. He sighed and turned his back, not bothering to answer me. "Well someone's in a great mood today," I mumbled while stifling a yawn.

We walked down the many hallways that never cease to confuse me. I have always wondered how big this facility really is, seeing as I have only ever been on this floor. The thought of how vast WICKED's reaches go scares me so I move on to thinking of other, less daunting, matters.

The man came to a halt suddenly in front of me and I almost bumped into him in an attempt to stop myself. He took out his card and swiped it in one movement against the sensor. Just as fast as he had taken it out, it disappeared back into his coat pocket. A green light gleamed in the dimly lit hall and the man turned to me and gave one nod before he spoke.

"The Doctor is waiting for you. You may go." Wow. A man of many words. I rolled my eyes and walked past, paying him no mind. The door slowly shut and secured itself in its' frame with a loud click. I blinked and looked around me, taking in my surroundings.

Equipment beeped softly and I could hear the whirring of the machinery as it warmed up. A door on the opposite side of the room from me opened suddenly, revealing a short, toad-like man in a green dress shirt and a lab coat. How ironic, I thought while looking him up and down. He walked over to a chair and sat down, setting his hands neatly atop of his clipboard which he had placed in his lap. He nodded in the direction of the chair opposite of him, suggesting that I take a seat.

"My name is Doctor Flemming. I will be administering your testing today." His voice came out deeper than I had expected it to and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

I'm guessing he noticed this little gesture though because he looks me sternly in the eye and speaks slowly.

"I do not put up with funny business. You will do as I say when I say to do it, that is all. Do I make myself clear?" I nod my head obediently and look down at my feet.

"So, I was informed that you are one of the many immune children in this facility, am I correct?" I look at him and once again, nodding my head solemnly.

"That's the whole reason that I'm here isn't it?" My voice comes out sounding a little groggy so I clear my throat. Doctor Flemming grunts and writes something down. I have been asked that question so many times before and I have had the testing to prove that I was in fact immune. Yet they still feel the need to confirm.

"You're free you know." He speaks so suddenly that I jump. He looks at me intensely. "Unlike so many others you never have to worry about the sickness, the pain, the confinement, or the fear that comes with being just like everyone else."

Surprised at his words, I open my mouth to respond but no words come to my lips. I sit gaping like a fish unable to find the words to say.
The Doctor looks satisfied with my response and he proceeds on with the routine questions without further comments.

When he had finished, he stands slowly making the chair moan at the relief of his weight. It's time to begin the physical part of the tests.

I furrow my brow all the way through testing. I don't feel the sharp, cold, pinch of the needles that enter my arm or the shocks of electricity sent to my brain. Not this time. All I can think about is what this man had said to me.

Am I really free?

Free from sickness, yes. But I am still confined. Within these walls. To the testing, the prodding, and poking. To an endless circle of events. The same thing every single day.

If I were to walk out of this room right now. Refuse my testing and leave, I know for a fact that they wouldn't let me go. I'm stuck here for who knows how long. Completely alone.

Another question that consistently probes my mind resurfaces, as it so often does.

If there are so many others who are just like me, even here in this building, then why am I being separated from them?

Yes, I am immune from the Flare. An incurable and deadly disease but am I really free?

My time with Flemming flies by. Before I know what is happening, I am being roughly escorted back to my room.

It's a woman this time who leads me back. She holds me with a firm, iron grip by my upper arm. I shift uncomfortably as I'm dragged alongside her. Doesn't she realize that I can walk just fine on my own?

We stop in front of a door that I have come to know very well. I guess this means that it's time to go back into the confines of my little white box once again.

My jail cell.