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❝this is it boys—this is war❞
☢︎
i wake up again in the hospital room. my clothes have been changed. i'm laying in a stark white shirt with matching shorts that dangle off my waist. i rub my sore wrists that are red from having been restrained in the cuffs. there's no activity around me. lights are on, but no one is here.
i slide off of the metal gurney. my bare feet meet the cool, tile flower. i wiggle my toes, relishing in the movement. i don't feel any different. in fact, i feel pretty wonderful. it's probably false, though. i'm sure they've injected something into me that may alter my thoughts. i shake my head. they can't be that evil, can they?
when i step outside, i realize why it's so quiet. patients just like me are lined up shoulder to shoulder. in hopes not to stand out, i fit between two people. one of them stares at me from the corner of his eye. he's fairly tall with trimmed brown hair and plump red lips. i see a small smirk lift the corner of his lips. it's infectious seeing as i do the same.
the girl beside me couldn't look more frightened than she already is. her light brown locks with highlighted pink champagne hair is restrained by a tight bun. she constantly picks at the loose strand on the hem of her shirt, twirling it around her fingers. watching her loop the string around her finger isn't easing my worries. in fact, it's making them worse.
"face forward," we turn as one collective being. "march." it's like our bodies are being controlled. we move in the exact same pace—nobody is too close or too far from the next person.
"oh fuck," the girl behind me mutters. she's very jittery as well. "we're fucking screwed. this is all your fault—" my eyebrows raise. "—nick."
the brown-haired boy before me turns and gazes over my shoulder with a tiny smirk. he doesn't seem at all fazed by her reaction. in fact, he's rather pleased with it. my own eyebrows furrow and he looks at me.
"nick," he attempts to extend a hand but retracts it quickly when a guard passes us up. "nick robinson. the little pink-haired freak behind you is vanessa, or nessie as i like to call her." i nod.
"i'm not a freak," vanessa murmurs irritatedly behind me. nick scoffs and turns his head back toward the front of the line.
"what's your name?" nick inquired as we continue to move down the hall. my eyes warily dart about before answering his lingering question.
"normani," i say. he nods his head and gives me a discreet thumbs up as if to say he likes my name. i chuckle inwardly and shake my head, looking down at my feet as we trudge down the hallway.
"what're you in for?" the pink-haired girl asks. i can see her furrowed stare out of the corner of my eye.
"accidental murder," i whisper underneath my breath. nick laughs to himself ahead of me.
"accidental?" he licks his red lips and shakes his head. "bullshit. you don't accidentally murder someone." i chew on the inside of my cheek.
"i'm not obligated to tell you what happened," i snap. he lifts his hands up in defense. he shrugs and stuffs them in the pockets of his shorts.
"what about you?" he stays silent. i crane my neck to look at vanessa who seems less than pleased to have to tell the story.
"drugs," vanessa plays with a loose strand of hair now. "i would make em, nick would sell em." i nod and stay silent.
we step into the cold, brisk air. winter wind nips at my bare legs and arms. i clench my teeth to keep them from chattering as we make our way across the clearing. it's quite dirty—we are outside—and snow litters the ground in various patches. massive metal doors are pushed open to allow us to enter, connecting to a main facility.
as the line moves up, guards extend stacks of items to us. i study them. each person is given different outfits—nobody has the same exact clothing—and hygienic items. i take my clothes and such and follow the line down the bridge. it dips into the main building that blasts us with a much-needed gust of hot air.
"kordei!" i hear my last name and step forward, not without a 'see you later' from nick and vanessa.
the guard roughly grabs my arm and pulls me close to him. he turns me around and lifts my hair up, slamming a stamp onto the nape of my neck. he fans the wet skin for a bit before dropping my hair and doing the same to my arm. i look down at the number—five thirty-one, my birthday. i narrow my eyes at the tattoo but stay silent, heading towards the final guard.
"room three-eleven," she boringly drones, handing me a key card of some sort. i assume it allows me to enter my room.
soon enough, i make it to my room. two beds are lined up on the opposite sides of the wall. they are both neatly folded with prim, fluffy pillows lying atop the comforter. shelves rest above the beds—mine is empty, but the opposite one is filled with clothes. in the back of the room are barred windows that overlook the mountains and courtyards outside. i notice a door on the left side. i assume that's the bathroom.
the door opens. i spin around to look at who has entered my new room. the girl is just about my height with soft asian features and equally soft brown eyes. her brown hair is trimmed to her shoulders and she twirls a strand around her fingers. i'm surprised by her outfit. she dons denim shorts and a white t-shirt with a black leather jacket draping over her shoulder. it's not nearly as warm as it is down in the scorch which is blazing hot. isn't she freezing her ass off?
she approaches me with an extended hand. "my name's arden. arden cho." the next phrase she utters is one that i've dreaded hearing.
