Shatter

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Chapter Six

            When my eyes opened, Jaison was gone.  It was as simple as that.  There was no trace of him, it was as if he was never there.  I waited and waited for him to come back.  I waited until the plunking of water ceased and until the rustles and mummers of the other gifted started to emerge.  I waited until I grew restless, so restless I thought I would go insane.  I convinced myself he was never actually here and that I had made him up.  I convinced myself that I had destroyed him, just like I had all the others.

            I waited.

            To hear his voice.

            To see him.

            For some sign that I hadn’t killed him.

            All day, I waited, but he never came back.

            When I woke up again, there was still no trace of him.  In his place, was a note.

            ‘Number Sixteen says, “Hi”.’

            For some absurd reason, the taunting note calmed me.  He is real and he is with the boss.  Jaison being with the boss wasn’t exactly calming, but at least he was alive.

            So I continued to wait, renewed with the hope that he would soon be returning and eventually, he did.

His face was bruised.  He limped on his right foot while cradling his left arm in his right.  I clenched my teeth, his first experiment had been physical and out of turn.  A cold chill ran through me as I remembered my own physical punishments.

"Take the bed," I insisted just as he started to lower himself onto the floor.

"I'm fine," he protested as he leaned his head back on the wall.  I rolled my eyes at his stubbornness.

"Jaison, it's okay.  This is your first experiment, you'll need time to heal."  He scoffed and closed his eyes.

"Is that what you call it?"  He asked. "An 'experiment'?"

"Yeah, why?"  He scoffed again.

"Dropping Mentos in Coke bottle is an experiment, that-that was fucking torture." His teeth were gritted with determination.  The expression he wore knocked me back a bit.  Never before, had I seen such hate displayed so openly.

“Just take the bed Jaison," my voice was cold and distant, like I needed to prove I could be just as empty as he could.

“I’m fine,” he insisted once more.

I stared at him in disbelief.  Did he have any idea how much I worried?  Did he know how many times I picked up my rock and held it to the wall, prepared to make his mark?  He couldn’t know how much guilt I felt when I woke up and he wasn’t here.

“I thought you were dead, Jaison.  Do you know what that was like?”  I asked.  His jaw flexed and his eyes darkened.

“Why would you care?”  His voice was colder than before and dripping with venom.

The truth was that I wouldn’t care if he died, people died every day, I just didn’t want it to be by my hand.  The sickening feeling I was experiencing wasn’t because I thought he was dead, it was because I thought I had killed him.

“Take the bed,” I said more forcefully.  “I want the floor.”

He seemed to be debating for a moment before he let out a deep sigh and nodded.  I watched as he tried to get onto his feet.

“Can you give me a hand?”  He asked after a few moments of struggling.

“You can’t touch me remember,” I reminded him.  He stared up at me in disbelief.

“I don’t have cooties, Two.”  I flinched as he called me by my number rather than my name.

“Melinda,” I corrected him as he continued to try and stand on his own.  “My name is Melinda, not Two.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled as he finally got to his feet.

He shuffled across the floor and plopped down onto the bed just as I slid down the wall.

“So what did they do to you in there?”  I asked, watching as he winced and held his ribs.

“Other than beat the shit out of me?”  He asked.  I nodded, despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at me and probably couldn’t see me if he had been looking my way.  “They punished me for trying to escape.”

There was a long lapse of silence.  I could hear the other kids shuffling around and murmuring between each other.  Across the room, I heard Jaison’s stomach growl, reminding me of my own hunger.

“So do you people eat here or do you just inhale air?”  Jaison asked after a few more protests from his stomach.  I gave a small laugh and scooted closer to the bed.

“We eat when they feel like feeding us,” I answered.

“That’s great,” he said sarcastically.

“Number Three!”  A guard yelled off in the distance.  Jaison’s head snapped up and watched as the guard brushed past our cell.  “Three,” the guard called again.

“Here,” a male voice responded.

A moment later there was a door sliding open and shuffling.  The two guards and the gifted boy brushed past us.  Eventually, their footsteps faded away and left the atmosphere shaken and anxious.

I looked back at Jaison to catch his expression.  He was blank, completely emotionless.

“Your number is two,” Jaison said.  I nodded.  “What was your “experiment”?”  He asked with a condescending tone.

I froze, remembering the way the mother screamed when her son was shot.  I remember the twinkling and the way it felt to have her shatter beneath my fingertips.

Jaison’s eyes were locked in my direction, watching as I recalled my actions.  I gave a half smile and shrugged.

“I was punished for being me,” I answered vaguely, or not so vaguely if he knew.  I was punished for being exactly what I was, a murderer, a monster.

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I've decided that I'm going to try to finish this by the end of April.  It is April 14th, 2014 right now.  My goal is April 30th, 2014.  That means I have sixteen days to write this book.  If I update everyday, then I should be able to do it no problem.  That is IF I update every day.  I don't know, what do you guys think, can I do it?

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