Shatter

/=()l_lr

Chapter Four

I hear pounding on the solid metal section of my door.  A second later, the small rectangular door is pushed aside and a suit is shoved through the opening.

“Get dressed, Two,” a guard shouts at me.

I push myself off the mattress and dress quickly, not wanting to anger him.  I don’t give myself time to wonder why I’m being taken out of my cell again today.  The boss just saw me yesterday after all.  There’s no way he could have yet another experiment for me.  I had never been taken out twice in one week, no one had been taken out twice in the same week.

My heart beat increased as I slid on the black gloves.  I didn’t fight as the two guards rushed into my cell and took hold of my arms.  I let them push me down the hallway, the tungsten lighting casting a false warmth and making everything look yellow and sick.  They navigated the narrow hallway quickly.  Each stride was purposeful and menacing.  At the end of the hall, instead of turning left and taking me to the large, grey room where all the testing was done, they turned right.  I slowed slightly, unsure of what was happening.

Turning right meant one of two things.  One, I would be going to the bosses office.  Under no circumstances would I never willingly go to the boss’s office.  Two, I was going to the showers.  The shower was this cold box with jets that were turned up too high and blasted cold water at you from every direction.  The blue tile walls were only feet apart, giving you just enough room to turn around, but not to hide from the force of the jets.  After the shower, you either went back to your cell, or you went to the boss’s office and like I said, I would never willingly go to the boss’s office.

The two guards yanked me forward, unsatisfied with the pace I was walking, so I sped up.  As they pull me further down the hallway, I find myself mentally chanting for them to take me to the showers.  At least if we go there, there’s still some hope that I won’t have to go to him.  The door to the shower room is coming up on the left.  I close my eyes and curl my hands up into fists, ready to kill if it means not going to the boss.

To my relief, the two guards push me through the door into the shower room.  I breathe a sigh of relief as they lock the door behind us.  The guards release me and push me into the small tiled box.  I undress in front of them, at this point I’m used to it and apparently, so are they because neither of them gawk at me while I strip down.  I’m thankful.

I toss the suit, gloves, and what little clothing I had on under that over the opening slot above one of the shower walls.  I can hear the pipes ticking behind the tile and a second later I’m assaulted with freezing ice needles.  I bite back a scream and start rubbing the grime off my body.  I keep my eyes shut tight to keep the water out but the force behind the jets burn my eyelids and force me to constantly rub my eyes.  There’s no soap in here, and there’s no way to open the shower door from the inside.  I scrub and scrub until I feel my skin burning and then I do my hair.  I let what little fingernails I have, scratch away at my scalp and work away the dirt and sweat and whatever else may be in my thick, black hair.  I tug at the knots until its smooth.  Now there’s nothing left for me to do but wait until the freezing water is cut off.  It doesn’t take long.

A towel is thrown over the opening and lands on top of my head.  I dry quickly, enjoying the comfort that having the cotton cloth around me creates.  Before all the water has left my skin, the suit I had on before is tossed over and I’m forced to dress.  The door is slung open just as I pull my gloves on.  The two guards yank me forward and pull me towards the door of the showering room.  As the door is opened, I feel a familiar sense of dread weighing me down.

Go right, go right, go right.  I chant mentally.  Thankfully, the guards listen and pull me to the right.  I happily oblige.

When the time comes we go left, back to the cell block.  I want to laugh I’m so relieved.  It was just a shower.  No torture, no boss’s office, just a shower.  Finally, they reach my cell and I’ve never been so relieved to see it.  Just like all the times I’ve showered before, my sheets have been replaced, my toilet has been emptied and any mess that I may have made has been cleared away.  They even straightened what little books I had on my bookcase.