Lot 168

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Zoned. I couldn't focus. Blue aprons with golden trim. Black strips of scrap cloth littered the bed. Bland soup sat sizzling next to me. Everything was too perfect. Silk sheets with ribbon bows knotted like a special gift, covered my shivering frame. I was in a room filled with beds. I was alone. The walls were the color of death yet the room was filled with yellows, blues and light purples. It was like this room was switched into something better than it once was.

As my body ceased with the shaking, pain overtook my being. Shots of lightning ran through my hands. When my eyes found the painful mess, I felt numb. No longer was my screen on the left hand. I had a solid silver left hand and wrist. It was a permanent glove embedded into my skin. With my right hand, I barely touched my left and a blue ring popped up on my left palm before fading back into the shiny silver skin like glove. It was as if they skinned me and placed this flexible sheet of electronic fibers in its place.   

Footsteps clanked to my mattress. It was someone who had to work with the criminals. Only they get the hard, durable boots in order to catch anyone who dears to run away. Slowly moving my eyes to settle on the person marching in a steady pace towards me, I realized it was Oxford. I have not seen him in years and I was hoping I could go another couple before we met again. I guess that is now impossible seeing that we are not but two steps away. I watched as the blue and red fabric on his chest lit up with letters.

I do believe it has been too long since we’ve seen each other. Do you like your new improvement?

He acted like I could respond. As I thought of a few choice words that fit him, my left hand popped up with the same words I had thought in my head. Shocked, I covered my left hand to try and hide the message. He saw what it had said.

Buzz!

Oxford- It looks like you still are trying to understand your improvement.

 I let my gaze travel to Oxford and noticed that his whole attention was focused on his arm which had different words covering it. I just thought my answer and before I knew it, it was sent to him without a single touch.

Me- It does seem that way. What did you do to me?

Oxford- I was ordered to test this new improvement out on you. I am going to put you back in the observing room and see how well you can figure it out.

Me- I do have a life.

Oxford- That’s no way to talk to your uncle who you have not seen in over two years. Your progress will decide when you go home.

After I finished reading the words, I looked up to find myself alone once again. Some uncle. Right as I stood to my feet, two guards came into the room with their full electro-suits on. Each taking one of my arms in their covered hands, I was dragged back to the room I have stayed in for the past week and a half. I hated the sight of this area. I can never stay more than a month in an apartment before moving to another place, but staying non-stop in a small room for, who knows how long, I will die. Nobody should be put in this place for more than a week.

The blood had disappeared from the walls and been replaced with a thick chlorine smell. Everything was sickly clean. Not one smudge would be found in the enclosed room. I noticed that two beds had been placed on either side of the room. The desks were gone and in their place sat a long table that looked like the ones you would find in a school lunch room. The hard concrete floor was covered in fluffy orange rugs.

One gentle push and I had then stepped fully into the room. Slam! I was trapped. Looking around I felt like something was missing, Milo. I turned to face the door and found him on the right side of it. I felt my lips pull up at the sides automatically. He green eyed gaze was directed at my left hand. With his arms crossed he looked like he disapproved of the improvement. Once he locked his beautiful orbs with mine, he smirked slightly.

“You wanted something new I see.” He turned and walked to the long table expecting no response. That is exactly what he got.

Sitting next to him, I noticed he had changed clothes. Oh, how I wish I could shower. He wore a light yellow cut off t-shirt that showed his semi-flat stomach and denim jeans with a black belt secured around his waist. A piece of paper was slid across the table in front of me.

Write.

One simple word could mean anything. He seemed on edge more today than when I left yesterday. I picked up the pen while my brain tried to figure out what to write.

Hi.

I have seen that word on my hand many times. I looked up to find him giving me a look that said “Really a two letter word”. I guess that was something he was not expecting. Rolling my eyes at him, I got up and started to the bed on the right. It had blue sheets that matched the other silky bed.

“That one is my bed.” His words flowed easier to my brain every time he spoke. It only took me five steps to understand what he meant. Turning on my heel, I settled on the bed that was not his and curled into a ball.

I wanted to get out of here. Holding up my left hand, I started to run my right pointer finger over every inch of the new skin. Tracing a circle in the palm of my hand, it lit up and asked who I wanted to send a message to. Right as my finger touched my hand again, I felt the bed move as someone sat down.

Milo took my left hand and placed it on the bed. He had the same disappointed look a grandparent would have to their granddaughter obtaining a wacky hair cut. Sitting up, I glared at him. Thinking of what to say, the words popped up on my hand. I shoved it towards his face.

Just leave me alone.

He pushed my hand away from his face and shook his head.

“Darling we are going to be together for at least another week. It would make no sense to try and avoid one another in a wide open room.” He spoke so fast that all I got was that we would be together for another week.

Why are you here?

I put my hand down when he finished reading it. I had finally asked the question that had been dancing in the back of my mind. He just looked at me before rising to his feet and walking to his bed. I felt like I already knew the answer, I just needed him to say it

“I am a fugitive.”

. Zoning, I felt my mind take me through different ways he could have gotten here. Maybe he was the person who always walked and ignored the slices of pain when reaching the limit. Or maybe he was that guy who looked around during a conversation when you are specifically told not to. He might have been the one to strike a verbal conversation with someone. If that is so then he would be waiting for exile. Even I break the looking rule, but I am not a criminal. I let what he said feed my imagination and drifted into a world of curl punishment that I heard was given to the nobodies.