In Saving the Imperfect

4. To see ones just like us

"Why in the world would you ever think anyone would allow that?" The RCI employee, who Layne had nicknamed Goat, dropped two bowls of oatmeal onto the cement floor.

"I don't know, maybe, because they were my parents?"

"The same ones you killed?"

Layne crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. Before exiting, Goat scoffed at him one last time. "Just deal with it."

The heavy door's electronic lock beeped. Layne was relieved not to be bothered anymore – although he was always the first to start a conversation. It has only been a couple of days since he has been locked in this grey cement prison – he still had hopes to achieve the last thing he wanted before the inevitable.

A tall blonde boy turned over in his bed. The springs squeaked like they were in pain – in the otherwise empty room, it sounded even more haunting. He was likely awakened by the noise as his dark eyes jolted open. He jumped back, ramming his back into the wall. He did that a lot.

"Dinner's served, No-name," announced Layne. "Hurry up before it warmed up to the room's temperature."

The boy squeezed out a tiny smile, although his eyes contrasted it with a sour expression. He sat up. Layne passed him a bowl of cold oatmeal and settled onto the close-by bed. Thorough the couple days he's been here, he's only been served the same tasteless barely-a-dish. It was getting hard to swallow – not that it was easy the first time.

"You always freak out all over again when you wake up," he spoke. "What's up with that?"

His roommate shrugged. Layne followed it up with a long sigh and sat the half-empty bowl on the floor.

"Yeah, I guess I don't wanna imagine what you've been through, then. You know, just a couple of days ago, I saw both of my parents die before my eyes." He paused and watched No-name react by shifting further away from him. "Honestly, I would have imagined I would have been more shook than that. I'm surprisingly fine, tho. I probably shouldn't be. Maybe there's something wrong with me."

Layne flinched at his own sentence. He hated getting sentimental but wanted to get the other Reject speaking no matter what.

The guy pushed his bowl towards Layne's and curled up in his bed.

"You're not gonna talk to me, are you?" Layne asked. "Is that because I have blood on me?"

He shook his head.

"Ok, whatever. Night."

* * *

Layne didn't know what time was it when he woke up. He didn't know what time was it when he fell asleep. They didn't have a single clock nor a window in their room – no way to tell day from night except from Goat with his oatmeal. Twice a day.

This time, the other Reject was already eating his breakfast.

"Wasn't I sleeping like in a coma." Layne sat in his bed and rubbed his sides, aching from a long night on a hard, lumpy mattress. "Usually the door wakes me right up. Why didn't you shake me awake or something?"

No-name rose his eyes in response.

"Ok, forget it."

Layne forced a few spoons down his throat and dropped the rest back on the floor. "Come on they won't keep us here forever. If this was what they were doing with the Rejects, they wouldn't try so hard to keep it a secret!"

When he turned around, he saw the boy pressing himself to the wall with his eyes wide open, the food bowl still in his hand. He wasn't moving.

"Did I scare you, again?" Layne stepped towards him but backed away, seeing the boy shake. "Gee, I'm not a scary guy. I'm not trying to be scary."