Overdose

4. The Executioner

A bright light shined into my eyes. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the light. The smiling face behind it sent chills through my body. "Get up."

"Let's go."

Xander again. I will never be able to explain how much I hate him. But he wasn't the only person I hated. I also hated the people who took me and brought me here, to a place where they separated children from their families. Parents. I hadn't seen them in forever. I didn't even remember my mom's name. I didn't remember my brother's name either. Did it matter? I wasn't going to see them anymore. When I got captured, that was the first thing they told me. "Don't bother thinking about escaping or seeing your family ever again. If you even try to leave, we will send someone to your house and kill your parents."

They led me down the dark hallway. No need to, I already knew the path all too well. "We've got something new for you today. One of the other patients has been acting up. We'll need you to straighten him out."

Straighten him out. I had wondered what that boy had done. Perhaps he had spoken back, or tried to escape. For some reason, they made me "straighten them out." Torture them, beat them. I had always wondered why they didn't just do it themselves. Perhaps it was because they thought I would take my anger out on the misbehaved. A deep, seething anger that poured into my heart and lit a fire. The pain those people put me, put us through. The fire in my heart was the only light I had left. Everything else was dark and cold, no reason for happiness or love anymore.

A frightened boy sat in the chair.

I knew that boy was young. He had not been branded yet. The brand of the people who were torturing us. A heart being injected with a needle. The standard brand of Valentine Industries.

"Let's go, Exe."

Exe. Short for Executioner. That's what they called me. Ironic. E. The first letter of my real name. The first letter of the word Executioner.

"What did he do?" I asked.

"Tried to run." The voice came into the room, booming through the speakers. I knew they were watching. The leaders of the Facility. "Do your thing, Exe."

The punishment for trying to run was twenty lashes. Sometimes, it was a cane, or a branch, or a whip. This time it was a whip.

The whip. I had become accustomed to using this one. I took no pleasure in being the one to give the punishments. As if staying here wasn't punishment enough. One time, I had refused to give it. They came in and beat us both. They said that the next time I didn't give a punishment, they would kill the one being punished. A death would be on my hands. Now, a death was on my hands. But it was not the death of someone innocent.

"I won't try to run away again! I promise!" The boy in the chair said, squirming to get out of his restraints.

"I'm sorry about this. I'll try to go as easy as I can." I whispered in his ear, making sure not to let the people on the opposite side hear. I undid his restraints and brought the boy over to a spot where there were shackles on the floor. I strapped the scared boy in and waited until he stood still and accepted his fate.

I did the whips as fast as possible, and tried not to cause as much pain.

"Good work, Executioner." I heard the doors unlock, and undid the straps. The boy fell into my arms, crying.

"Jesus Christ, what a crybaby."

I remember now. The boy had to be around his preteen age. Maybe twelve.

The lashes had cut through his shirt, causing red lines to cover his back.

I was surprised he didn't pass out. The red lines flashed in my head. The blood, the pain. The bathtub.

I took him over to a bathroom, a small room with a bathtub. There was a shower spout, rusted, hanging from the wall. I took out some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet and cleaned the boy's back, trying to be gentle as possible.

"Don't try to run. They will only make me hurt you more."

It pained me to see kids misbehaving. I knew someone would come and get me and bring me to the Punishing Room. I remember how they hurt me, beat me, until I started behaving. It took me a year to start behaving. I was a model student. It took me two years to forget my name. Three to forget the names of my parents and brother.

I took the boy back to his room. All the prisoners stayed in a room with someone else. The rooms had no windows, two beds, two dressers, and a bathroom. Very simple, and very boring. But what can you expect from a prison?

I went back into my room and sat there on the bed. "Executioner, Xander will be in your room in a few minutes." The intercom said. Less than a minute later, there was a knock on my door.

Without waiting for me to let him in, Xander came in anyways.

"How are you?" Xander asked, smiling.

"Fine."

"Not feeling sad or anything?"

"No. I'm fine."

Xander pulled a chair from my desk and put it next to the bed. He sat down, keeping eye contact. "Just checking up on you, seeing if you still have emotions. You didn't seem to have emotions during that punishment."

"I made sure he was OK afterwards. Someone with no emotion wouldn't do that."

"Or did you just do that because that's your routine? Or were you trying to be a hero?"

When it comes to being a hero, there are few things that people misunderstand. One, someone does not identify themselves as a hero. It is a title given to them by other people. Two, those who are heroes are not doing it for the thrill of being famous or for the countless riches. Three, those who are heroes may not even know they are one. And four, some heroes go unnoticed. There are times where it is not until after death that a hero is recognized. Sometimes, they are never recognized.

"I know what you're trying to do, but it isn't going to work." I turned away from him and put the covers over my head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap."

"Maybe you would like to talk a walk?"

"No. I want to be left alone."

"You used to love taking walks."

"Xander, I don't want to take a damn walk, alright? I just want you to leave me alone. I'm going to be stuck in this place until I die or you guys kill me. Going outside will just remind me of the freedom I had before you brought me here."

"Fine. If you don't want to take a walk, then you don't have to." I heard Xander stand up and walk to my door. "Just trying to let you do something fun before you can't enjoy anything anymore." He finally left my room. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.