Dangerous

Chapter 3

Rodney and Paul led me to my room. The path was confusing; more twists and turns than I could count, up a staircase, then an elevator with unnumbered floors; symbols designated which floor was which. I'm sure it was designed this way so that no one could easily find their way out. We saw absolutely no one on the way there, which I found odd, but the few transparent windows we passed showed a pitch black landscape, so it could have been late at night. I don't know how long I was asleep or unconscious in that room.

My sore feet were beginning to ache in protest when we finally reached a large metal door. A plaque off to the side of the door had my name engraved in it, along with a letter and a set of foreign numbers. Peterson, Jessalyn H. M1453.

I ran my hand softly over the imprints, wondering what the numbers meant, but too tired and defeated to ask. Rodney cleared his throat loudly, and I tried to ignore the annoyance creeping into my bones.

With an impossibly large set of keys in hand, Rodney opened my door. Stepping inside, I immediately felt the temperature drop at least ten degrees. MMP may have made changes to the equipment, but it didn't look like they had made any to the rooms. It was empty besides a small twin bed in the corner, and a toilet and small vanity in the other. The floor was bare, and I felt the cold seep in through the bottom of my shoes. The room smelled musty, as if it hadn't been used in a while, and the only thing that gave me a little bit of joy was the window in the far corner of the room, letting in a thin stream of moonlight. Stepping further into the room, I was aware of a red blinking in my peripheral vision. A camera was situated above the vanity, tucked into the corner between the wall and the ceiling. It pointed to the far edge of the room, where the window and the bed were, but it rotated to track my movements as I walked further into the room.

"So that's how you guys monitor me?" I pointed at the camera. Rodney sneered at me, but Paul interrupted him before he could speak.

"Yeah, unfortunately. It's not us who does it though. We're here to help you, as much as possible." He looked to Rodney, who just rolled his eyes. Paul shook his head. "Well, I am at least."

I was surprised to hear him speak, being so used to his silent indifference. Searching his face, I found nothing but genuine concern. I smiled gently at him, thanking him for his kindness when the world around me was so confusing and new.

"Call us if you need anything," Rodney said flatly. I rolled my eyes. I wouldn't call you for help if you were the last person on Earth.

"Sleep well, Jessalyn," Paul said, giving me another small smile, before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. With his gentleness and tone of voice, he reminded me a lot of my father. I sighed deeply, lost in memories of my old life.

Old life. It hurt to think that I would never again get to see my mother smile, or my little sister laugh.

Aware of the consistent red blinking in my peripheral vision, I slowly walked over to the vanity. It was a worn down cabinet with a small mirror above it. Resting my arms on the sorry excuse of a vanity, I looked at my reflection in the dirtied mirror. My eyes looked bloodshot, my hair was a mess. I reflected emotion. The state of my hair showed anger, my eyes showed confusion, my face showed fear. I turned quickly away, breathing in sharply.

The bed was uncomfortable, the springs digging into my back. The chilled air crept deeper into my bones. After hours of tossing, turning, and a whole lot of thinking, I finally managed to succumb to sleep.