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v | lauren

"SHH... EVERYTHING'S GOING TO BE OKAY, KIDDO." I didn't know why I was talking to the little girl when she was already passed out in my arms. I was simply just holding Laura, walking back and forth in her room is the Hospital Wing. I didn't want to put her down. I didn't want to have anything bad done to her.

I shouldn't have brought her here in the first place. So what she'd be in an orphanage? At least she was away from here.

Her fingertips were soft as they held onto my arm. A stream of drool was escaping her mouth and was starting to drip onto my shoulder. Though it was gross and warm and sticky, I didn't mind. Or, tried not to mind.

Footsteps were present in the hallway. They were heading this way. Thump. Thump. Thump. They were the sound of heels.

The footsteps stopped, but were followed by a knock on the door. Without any response from me, the door opened. Mom was standing there in her doctor's coat and a stethoscope around her neck - she looked like the first time I saw her when I was at the Institute.

"Honey, you should put her down," She told me. "We have to get her prepped."

"But mom, you can't," I tried protesting. It wasn't that great of an argument.

She walked over to me and pried my fingers off of the girl, gently taking her and placing her back on the bed. Laura immediately buried her face in her pillow and pulled the blanket over her body. Was she really asleep or just pretending to?

"Go to bed, honey. We have a long day tomorrow," Mom told me.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Details are never told to me unless I ask. Sometimes, I don't even get the details after I do.

"Well, it's going to be busy in the surgery rooms, at least." She made sure Laura was comfortable, them took my arm and pulled me out of the room.

It was nearly one in the morning but the hallways of the hospital were buzzing with energy. The lights in the hallways were dimmed and doctors and nurses made their way back and forth through the corridors. Most had clipboards and other note taking devices with them, others looked as if they were ready for surgery.

"What does that have to do with me?" I questioned. "There's no way I'm going to end up in a surgery room."

"Of course you aren't doing that," Mom assured me. "You have the brains to do it and can pick it up pretty quickly, but we can't risk it. No, tomorrow you'll be back on the field. What else would you be doing?"

"Mom, why are we killing half the population with bombings and shootings?" I asked out of the blue. It was something I was meaning to get an answer to. At some point.

"You wouldn't understand yet. We'll tell you once you're ready."

"You're going to force me into doing it, then tell me, aren't you?"

She didn't reply.

"Mom, how many Institutes are there in the world?" I asked. I knew ours wasn't the only one. There had to be more. The bombing and shootings were all over the International news too.

"More than enough. We're in the original though."

Was that the answer I wanted to hear? Not exactly.

"Are all of them doing what we're doing?"

Mom starts stroking my hair. "This is a team effort. Now, why don't you go to bed." It wasn't a question. It was an order. Clearly mom had some important things to work on besides talking to me. She didn't let me go upstairs on my own time, either.

A flash of green passed through my eyes, and I was turning around and heading out of the hospital section of the Institute. My mind went blank and my body took over, leading me up the stairs and to the little part of the Institute Mom and I call home.