Day 13 at Lakefield Institution. I've been poked and prodded, I've been stabbed with needles that go so deep they hit the bone, I've had countless blood draws and MRIs. Yet I haven't had contact with anyone except the doctors. They refuse to talk to me unless it's an instruction. I haven't seen Kacey or Ryan or Maia or Shawn or Everett. Not once. Not even bumping into each other on the way for another scan. A creeping feeling, a thought you could call it, always intrudes telling me, whispering to me, that they are dead. Them along with my parents and Morgan and Bailey. I know it sounds fake and a figment of my imagination but yet after only 13 days of no human contact... I've started imagining things. Or maybe it's all the drugs they pump into our body, waiting to see how we react. My mind is all over the place and I haven't been able to use my power since coming here. I'm not sure if I'm just too tired or it has something to do with the rooms we are in or the things put in us. All I want to do is talk to someone. That and get out of here. Yet I know getting out of here is far fetched and even more stupid than leaving the bunker. We were so stupid to leave that place that truly felt like home. We had food and water and a shower and well more freedom than we have here. They don't even feed us anymore. They use an IV to give us fluids and every other day we get a small meal. I'm surprised my body hasn't shut down and quit. I want to shut down and quit. I don't think I'll last much longer in here. My thoughts have begun taking over me. The scary ones where all my nightmares come true. As I sit up from the huddled sleeping position on the white pillowy floors I look around hoping, praying I'll see someone I know standing there. Except as per usual nothing is there. Just the all white walls that I have a hunch are slowly shrinking and closing in on me. There is no clock so I have no idea whether it's the middle of the night or the middle of the day. There is a small barred window in the bathroom I'm escorted to twice a day but that's my only concept of time. I look to the tall white metal door that swings open as yet another doctor walks in. She doesn't mutter a word to me and places a metal fold out chair on the ground. I know the drill by now so she doesn't have to speak to me to get me to do what she needs. Sometimes I debate being stubborn and acting as if I have no idea what to do. But today I'm tired and not in the mood to be further punished. So I go to the metal chair sitting down as she cuffs my ankles and wrists to the chair. The cuffs that never fail to draw blood as I jerk in pain every single day here. By now I'm surprised they can even find a good vein to use. She pulls out the syringe and I get ready for another quick blood draw. I can't even feel this part any more. It's probably the least painful part of my days. She gets the syringe full of blood in seconds, placing it into her cart once again. Next she takes out and light and shines it in my eyes. I squint, not able to look right at the beaming light.
"Follow the light," she states, not even a hint of emotion visible. What did they do to you to make you so heartless? The question bubbles in my throat but I have no desire for another round of punishment so I hold back. I force myself to open my eyes and look back and forth as the light moves. At least my brain still works. She does a few more reflex tests before injecting me with another medicine and leaving. Not another word said.
The hours go on and I'm left there with nothing to do. I try and close my eyes to sleep again but that's all I've been doing. I pull myself back into a sitting position, my back leaning against the wall. I cringe as pain surges through my normally numbed arm. I reach up to rub my eyes and when I finish I gasp. I'm on my feet in seconds.
"Morgan?" I ask. "How did you get here?" She is standing in the corner, leaning up against the wall reading a book. She's wearing the pre-gov sweatshirt she bought me for my birthday.
"I missed you!" she exclaims. She doesn't move from the wall and I don't have the energy nor the stamina to even walk across the room. "How are you?"
"Not very good," I tell her honestly, trying to pat down my frizzy hair. "Why are you here?! Morgan what if they don't let you leave! You should go!"
"Oh come on sis," she laughs, "don't be such a goody two shoes. Have some fun and break some rules."
YOU ARE READING
Ingenious
FantasyWhen a child is born, a chip is put into their brain. It is said the chip isn't activated until they are 16, in what is referred to as their testing day. On such days a machine simulates activities testing your creativity and intelligence before pla...
