The Way Back

Chapter 7

TRIS POV

Ah, my weekly shower.

The one time where I can feel at least a bit clean, the one time where I can be alone, even if it is only for five minutes.

After turning off the cold water, I shiver and step out of the weak spray, not bothering to look down at the grimy floor. I used to cringe the first few times I stood in the shower because of how disgusting these bathrooms are, and I even resorted to limiting my five minutes of using the toilet, shaving, lathering with soap as best I could, and rinsing off.

Now I could care less about the mud in the cracks in between the tiles, or the mold that lines the sink. I have learned that the conditions of certain things don't matter when I get what I want—though that is rare.

Before I dress, I look at myself in the mirror above the sink, not caring that I can barely see details through the filth that prevents it from reflecting a clear image. I stare at the tattoo on my collarbone: three birds that fly towards my heart. I discovered it the first time I showered and glanced in the mirror, and I have been wondering about it since.

A marking like this has to have meaning. Although I don't know much about myself, I'd like to believe that I am not shallow enough to permanently ink my body without a reason. There is a story behind this tattoo, and I hope that I find out what it is one day, along with everything else.

Tobias has one as well; I know that it is at least on his neck, though it could go down his back too. Why do we both have tattoos? Were we a part of a group, or is it something that he and I decided on alone?

A bang on the door frightens me, causing me to jump. "Hurry up!" the soldier who is supervising me calls through the metal.

And I do. I dress quickly, yanking my pants up to my now toned stomach that serves as a reminder of the daughter I lost—it is a slap in the face every time I think about it—and throwing my tank top over my head.

I finish just in time; when I emerge from the bathroom, I notice that the guard is holding his fist up, indicating that he was about to knock. He sneers at me and points to the end of the hallway, and I shuffle away from him, finding it completely out of the ordinary that I wasn't escorted back to my cell.

The room he told me to go to is the cafeteria. Only Group 3 is in here at the moment, as far as I can tell. I meet up with Lauren and Edgar as soon as I locate them, sitting down at their table and waiting until a guard passes to whisper to them.

"What's going on?" I ask. "Why aren't we going straight to bed?"

Edgar taps his foot nervously, which shakes the table. "I don't know," he says quietly, wiping some excess water from his shower off his forehead. "But I don't think it's good. There's been talk of a blood test."

A sinking feeling plagues my stomach. I bite my lip, considering what this means. I don't trust my captors, of course, but I certainly don't like the idea of them obtaining my DNA. Who knows what they plan to do with it? What if they keep it for future reference, put me in some database, use it for a science experiment, or whatever the hell they are up to? I don't want to be some piece in their plan. I don't want to participate in anything they have a part in. I just want to hide in the crowd, pretend to be a good little prisoner until I get out of here someday.

As if there is a chance of that.

Lauren looks just as troubled as I do, if not more. Her skin turns pale and her hands start trembling.

"Lauren? Are you okay?" I try to console her. But how can you comfort someone when you know something is wrong, when an unknown threat is looming over you both and you are on edge too?