I am Number Twelve

17

17

The man's skin is pure white and ugly. His teeth are spiked at the ends, and his eyes have no whites, just plain black. He is bald, and wears long dark pants that end in sturdy boots, kind of like combat boots, but I can tell these are far stronger. He has a stab proof vest on, and he holds the three syringes with poise as he struts over towards my glass cage. 

'Do not fight. Still.' He speaks in a hard, steel voice, in broken english. He puts the head of the syringe through one of the small holes in the glass and pokes it at me.

'No!' I squeeze up against the other side of the cage, away from the needle, which just grows even longer. I snap off the needle and wrench it into the cage.

He just reaches into his pocket and pulls out a new one. I grab on to the new needle, and hope to push it away again., but he jabs it forcefully into my hand. The metal glides into my flesh smoothly, numbly. But the clear liquid he pushes into me, is icy cold, and I can feel it pumping.

My head throbs so hard, I can feel it in my toes, blood pulsing all over my body, trying to reject the strange liquid. My hands start to sweat, and I wipe them on my pants.

I look left, and see the man inject Jake. He is calm, and sits as still as you could have hoped he did. He is calm, and I envy his state of mind, his easy ability to just let every thing slide.

Charlie struggles like I did, his low screams pierce my ears, bouncing off the sterile white walls. He also is injected, although, a small victory, I see Charlie bear teeth and bite the soldier through the slightly bigger holes in his cage. When the strange man takes his fingers out of the hole, his red metallic blood drips on the floor, riding along the crevices in the tiles, like veins. He saunters out of the room, cradling both of his hands, a look of pain on his face.

Then I feel it. My mouth is on fire, my head aches, my legs throb, but the worst pain comes from the heart. Every breath, every pump, sends a wave of pain radiating out towards the rest of my body. This kind of control is cruel, its not even real pain. Its a stimulation. Something in that clear liquid is making me hallucinate, faking the pain, controlling me. And I do not like it. I writhe in what little space I have. Scratching against the glass.

A low deep groan comes from my mouth, a sound of my desperation to get out. I look out of the glass, and I see my reflection, rabid, and wild with anger, with pain, this girl is not me, but she copies every move I make, so I have to accept it.

I suffer, wriggling, trying to get away from the immense pain echoing through out my mind and body. It throbs and pulsates, sending itself into each corner, nook, and cranny in my body, trying for maximum torture.

Jake. His name plays on my lips, others swirl around my head, Lola, Jack, Catherine, Helen, Mother, Father. Mother, Father. Mom, Dad. These people are dead, and with Jake, screaming in his own cage, drowning in pain, he's as good as dead too. 

I'm dizzy. I can't stop the pain, my eyes shut, maybe it will help.  Jake is no longer screaming, as good as dead. It strikes me that if we weren't on earth, 14 years ago, on Aquillia, we would be in the same situation. Together.

As good as dead. Death, is good. Scilence, oh how I wish it were quiet. I stop screaming, and bottle up the urge. Charlie stops too. As good as dead.

Silence is gray. Silence is golden. The pain stops, exhaustion takes over.

+++

A piercing sensation jostles me awake. My eye lids refuse to open, but I'm awake, painfully. I want to lie down, but hard metal cuffs secure me up-right and standing. A rope holds my waist against the wall and my feet are chained together; this better be good. My head is tied against the wall also, but both Charlie and Jake are tied to the steel wall opposite me.

Two soldiers stand on either side of them, and I assume two stand on either side of me, also. The blood from my brain is sinking down to my feet, and just as I could in the glass cage, I can feel every pump of my heart.

Another two soldiers stand beside a man. Just a man. He wears a peach coloured shirt under a dress jacket. Very suave. More like arrogant, and cocky. He stands with his hands held together, up straight, his posture perfect, lithe. He has short cut black hair, and I can't help but want to know who he is.

He has no wrinkles on his face, and his lips are pressed together in a cold line. He clears his throat and saunters towards Charlie.

'Number Six. How very fortunate that your friends showed up. It was very nice of them to make an appearance. I expect you can tell me their numbers?' His voice is dreary and dull, and drags on. He speaks quickly, and Ten never makes eye contact.

'Numbers? What numbers? These kids are human. They are not my friends.' He sounds rehearsed, Charlie has practiced, analyzed what he would say, I can only hope the Zens do not pick up on it.

'Pfff. Numbers. Tell me, or I will kill them.' The man demands.

'Ok. Do it. They are of no value to me.' Charlie spits in the mans face. How am I expected to react? Will the charm have broken? Will I still be under it's protection? The sickest thing is, I want to know.

He walks to me. I am infuriated, and I am a fiery person at the best of times.

'You are a coward. Chaining us up here. It's sick. Get a life, you fat, lazy, ass.' I accentuate the 'ass' and clearly he is not happy.

'Zeda, careful.' Jake says from across the room.

The man walks out of the room, and returns with a gun, a Zentolion blaster. He aims at me, lining up his eye on the scope, and I see his finger disengage the safety latch, and pull the trigger. A dart comes flying at me, almost whistling in the breeze, and hits me square in the chest, a sharp spike of pain sends me into unconsciousness. Or is it the dart? Either way, I don't like it.

+++

I stretch my eyes open, the world flickering. I hear a groan beside me, and I turn my head sharply, to see Jake, hear wet with sweat, hanging from the same shackles as me. He turns to me, and his neck muscles tense as he flinches and he try's to smile.

'It'll be ok.' His voice is broken, and a little croaky.

'I know. We'll be fine.' I half smile, grit my teeth and turn back to the front. The man walks towards me, sharpened screw driver in hand. 'How did he do that?' I ask, whispering to Jake.

'The charm is getting weaker, it still affects him, but we still get the weak stuff. He can't kill us though.' He whispers frantically. 

The man approaches condescendingly. 'What number are you?' He says in a menacing voice.

'Number?' I ask, pretending to be Innocent.

'Do not lie! You have a number! When I knocked you out, I too blacked out. Just like Six.' He bends down and inspects my leg. Scars, damn.

'I do not! piss off!' I move my leg just enough to get him in his undercarriage. His face twists.

'Zeda! Stop it!' Jake hisses.

I feel metal on my leg, but my head is restrained so well, I can not look down to see what it is. I feel a sharp spike of pain, for a split second, and then it has dissipated .

The man stands up, screaming, in pain. I grin with pleasure.  I glance at Jake, and he looks at the man, a look of disgust under a look of hate. For hurting me.

In a broken voice the man screams. 'Your number!'

'Eight!' I yell as loud and as piercing as possible. He plunges the screw driver into my shoulder in anger, but he drops it, because blood from a wound in his shoulder stops him. An iciness washes over me.

 He falls, and Charlie snickers.

I am clubbed in the side of the head. Pleasure spiked with pain.