Me & Her

Her

In the evening, I drug their drinks.

I would have waited at least two more nights before using those sedatives again, but something has been playing on my mind. A name, but I can't quite make it out. That's been my general motto for the past few weeks.

Besides, Little Miss Drip wants us to go back to school. School? Is she serious? No thank you. We don't have the time to ferret about from locker to locker while facing a bunch of teen drama stereotypes.

Since the incident last night, I've had to be a little more careful. Keep more tabs on our mind. It's a little distracting to say the least. Fearing from each moment to the next that her whining voice is going to pop up out of nowhere.

Dressing in the darkest clothes I can find, I poke my head out of the bedroom door.

The landing is pitched in a lukewarm glow, but there's no sign of anyone else. The drugs have worked their magic. Sneaking downstairs is easy enough, but I need something to defend myself. Just in case. With the electromagnet all I can do is make someone very angry.

The kitchen is cloaked in darkness, so I tap into my other senses to locate the bread knife. Too obvious. If they notice it's gone, there's no way I'll escape scrutiny.

Opening the cutlery drawer, I rummage in the bottom for a dinner knife, feeling its useless weight in my palm. That'll have to do. It's not as if I have any other choice.

Tonight, I need to be quick, I need to ensure my other self doesn't come knocking. It's bad enough wanting to go back to school, let alone sucking up to Mr. Freudian Slip. I haven't managed to come up with any realistic ideas of why he locked himself in the bathroom last night, but I have a few funny ones. I could even write fanfiction about them. Oh, look at that. I'm digressing again.

Shoving the knife into my shoe and the magnet into my pocket, I head for the kitchen window. The same lock. Don't these guys have any imagination? The electromagnet is really working wonders, but I suspect that the copper wire will start to fray soon. It's only a matter of time, so I need to move quickly.

My pulse beats out of sync, like a hummingbird trapped in a blaze. I need to do this. We don't stand a chance if I stop now. I need to protect us, protect me. I refuse to be hurt like that again. I refuse.

Chasing away the bile in my throat, I climb out the window, landing precisely upright on the drive.

Seeing as I've neglected to draw a map to the facility or steal a car with a SATNAV, I spend a whole two hours the night searching for it, which isn't ideal. Since they believe Doctor Steele disappeared from his home – he probably lives in his Mum's basement or something – they haven't doubled security. They will after tonight.

There's this name that I keep seeing. I can't get it out of my head. The name. A foundation. As I approach the coarse bushes on the perimeter, concentration becomes key. I need to do this because she won't. Because no one will help us. Even though everyone is convinced they are doing so.

The dinner knife climbs out of its hiding place, making its way into my hand.

Fearing my body will start to hesitate, I distract myself by edging in-between the trees, keeping watch on the wire mesh fence which surrounds the building. The Foundation. I stop, my breath shallow. The something Foundation. I remember, I remember.

Clenching my arms, I strain against the memory. I was being wheeled down a bright hall – a hall in the facility. Mind swimming in and out of consciousness, head spinning. Pain. That's what I remember.

I doubt I will hesitate now.

The area around the dumpster is free of guards for a brief 30 seconds, so I only have a short window to climb over the fence and break in. Not enough time. The guards have guns – quick-fire action rifles. Me? I have a dinner knife. Brilliant.