Surefire

Chapter 2

My head is pounding. There's a ring to my ears and my body feels heavy. I'm trying to open my eyes, but they're failing me. They feel heavier than my body does. But I have to try.

I try to reach out my fingers, I'm gaining some sense in them. That's a start. I reach out even further, both arms and my body is slowly waking up again. The ringing stops, but the light is blinding. My eyes sting as I'm trying to open them, my body's wake enough that my hand reaches to my eyes to block the light. And when they're wide awake...

That's where I scream.

I'm in a cell, everywhere is white, hospital white. That's that I can process right now. I hurry to my feet and shout. I already feel my heart pounding. Idont know where I am. I'm banging on the bars, And shouting my lungs out.

"Hey hey. Calm down. Look at me. Calm. Down." A guy in a cell in front me says.

It's just me and him in here. His cell and mine.

But I don't listen to him, "Get me out of here!" I shout.

"Listen to me please." The guy says again, and I notice myself sniveling.

"I've tried that already.the whole shouting and banging and demanding. It doesn't work. They come whenever they come." He says in a soft tone and British accent. He has black hair that falls onto his face, strong jaw but soft features. Has that biker look, that doesn't match his voice at all.

I pay no attention to him.

I keep banging and banging. Banging and threatening. Besides the two cells that are occupied by that British guy and me, the room has white gadgets and weird screens on the wall. The place is very space ship like. I don't like it. It smells like a hospital. The chill of it and the smell of medicine stuffing my nose. I still don't like it.

I keep going and the guy in front of me sighs and lays back on the bed in his cell.

"Fine then. Suit yourself." He says and lays his hands behind his head and folds his leg.

How can he be this calm? Seriously.

I can't be bothered with him right now, I need answers. And I need them now.

I continue my shouting for a little longer. Till my throats feels slightly sore, and there is nobody her, expect for, him.

I rest my head on the bars in despair, this can't be happening. What is happening?

I slide down and rest on the ground. I knew this is how my life would end anyway. Captured. In a cage. The only difference is that I'm captured by some people, and not my dad. I can't decide Which one's worse.

I lay there staring at my palm, and remembering the tingles that use to cover them when my mom use to trace the lines on it. Every time we got sad, or dad had a fit, she used to hold our palms in her hands and read our palms. Non of it was true, but she knew it'd make us smile and forget whatever bothered us. I trace the lines on my palm with my own fingers and cry a little. Because I was created to cry and die a little more. Not to smile and live a little more.

It's a fact, I knew it a long time ago.

A cough interrupts my thought, my head rises up to see if anyone was there. But no. Just the same guy. In the same cell. I return to my palm.

"Are you alright?" He says. He's young, I'd say only a couple of years older, two or three maybe. But I'm not okay. I think that's obvious.

I don't answer.

I'm not here to make friends. I don't know why I'm here, I'm not supposed to be in here.

"Alright. Umm let me think." He says, "let's start with this shall we? You're name is..."