The Scourge |Book #2 Turned Trilogy|

[3] Lara

“Taylor?” 

My voice cracks, hands trembling from last night’s transformation. The physicality of me remains the same, but my mind and senses change…as if I were still turning. Still, every night, the same---over and over again. Leaning against my cell door, I wonder if I will ever be normal again, completely human. What am I? I cannot tell you this; there is not an answer, not yet. The door in the hallway buzzes, like usual, the latch releases. Same sound, day after day. They are coming for me, Taylor is gone, and I am next. 

Looking to my left, thinking I see a shadow move, maybe Taylor is there after all. “Taylor!” I hiss. “What’s with the silent treatment all of a sudden?” A hint of disgust rolls off my tongue. Footsteps bound toward my cell. Panic rises in the pit of my stomach. 

A female voice echoes across the empty space between me and the prison guard. “Lara, it is time to go, move to the center of the room so that I can see you.” Her key jangles at the lock, I push my body further into the corner, into the darkest area of my cell. 

“What are they going to do to me?” I say harshly.

The brute woman steps into my cell, staring down at me. “They will do what they must, to make sure the rest of us are not in harm’s way,” she says. “Now, get up and place your hands against the wall.” I stand, my eyes level with her shoulders, and she is larger than a usual woman.

Standing and turning around, I place my forehead against the wall, hands pressed tightly onto its surface. The guard’s knee presses into the space behind my own knee, collapsing me further against the wall. 

I keep telling myself to follow orders, to behave, soon I will be free.

I’m escorted down the familiar corridor, the same hands grabbing for me, calling after me. The restraints around my wrist are too tight, digging into my flesh. Gradually my skin tears away, old wounds bleed again. It is daytime and I do not crave its taste right now. All I crave is freedom.

Florescent lights beam above my head, rows of them paving the long path that seems to never end. Another guard approaches, pulling something over my head. I am swallowed in its darkness; the fabric is etched so closely, that no light dares penetrate through. My palms feel sweaty and the beating of my heart quickens.  What feels like forever, of being led to an unknown place, to an unknown demise; they stop me from walking any further. 

Hands press down on my shoulders, forcing me to sit down on a cool metal chair. Maybe they plan to shoot me while blinded from my captors. They might not want me to look in their eyes as they kill me, rid me of this hell on earth. I breathe heavy against the thick fabric bag, my breath is hot and trapped. The warmth crawls up my cheeks and swirls around my eyes. It is so damn hot, so hot that sweat accumulates all over my face. Blinking away the sweaty tears, the hood is ripped away from my head. 

“Hello Lara, it is a pleasure to meet you.” 

I blink, staring at the man seated across from me. Something is strangely familiar about his face, but I can’t quite figure it out.

He leans forward on his desk. “Don’t be shy, let us be acquainted.” The man looks up at the guard’s, then points at my restraints. “Release her immediately,” he says with authority. 

The two guard’s fumble down near my wrists, finally unshackling them, I pull them in front of me onto my lap. Red ringlets wrap around each wrist, burning tremendously from the skin being rubbed away. Looking up from my wrists, I stare straight ahead into his eyes.

“What do you want from me?” I lean forward, slamming my fists onto the top of his desk. The guard’s pull me back into the chair again.

He grins, leaning back into his chair, as if he were attempting a larger distance between us both. Watching him open a vanilla colored folder, he flips through the pages diligently. His eyes flickering up at me occasionally, I sneer and look away.