I Am Number 53.

I Am Number 53.

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing12m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Aug 20, 2015
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Fiction
Mystery
Four walls and a roof but this is the farthest thing from a room that I can remember. I've been sitting here for hours, it could have been days. There's no window in this cell, and florescent lighting has burned it's way into my pupils, it doesn't phase me. "Hello, Ms. .." I tune in on a mans voice, raspy from years of smoking I assume. I know that but not enough to fill in my own name to his undercover question. Sweat burns my palms as I press them deep into the metal table, he reveals himself to me. A young man, maybe he's young. Black hair, long without a wash, is oiled back, exposing a hairline that shouldn't be on anyone. "Oh my," the chuckle in his voice drags my hands deeper into the corner of the table. He examines my face, I can't imagine what I look like, but I'm sure it's why he's laughing. "You might just be the youngest in this facility." His dark eyes narrow at mine. Four fingers fit comfortably in his pocket as he takes a seat, opposite of me. His vibes feel threatening. I want out of this place. "How old am I?" My voice is dry, foreign, and shaky. "Shouldn't you be telling me?" His elbows lean against the table, causing it to tip slightly. "Where am I?" After multiple gulps, I figure my dehydration is because of my sweating. Screams echo down the hall. Or A hall, I can't see one, but it had that echoey-feel. Someone is in danger. My heart takes a leap as I feel my blood boil, more screams followed by pounding on the hollow walls, a few rooms down from mine. Is that what's going to happen to me? "You will have all of your questions answered shortly-" "Why don't I know who I am." I stand up, feeling sudden confidence that I'm taller, but he doesn't seem phased by my small frame. "Brave," he chuckles, "I like that."
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He once told me no one knows the real him.I didn't think he meant it, and not in a good way. He is a straight A student, and everyone knows it, not to mention he is on the swim team. All that though isn't the real him, the real him hides deep within himself. ---------- "Can you please tell me what that was?" I nearly shout at him. All I get is silence. He keeps his back to me. "Please, I need some explanation." I beg. I stay still as he stops dead in his tracks. His body is tense and it's scarring me. He turns around slowly to face me with his hands at his sides. His eyes meet mine, but there is no spark of any emotion in them. They are cold and dark making me look away not being able to hold his deadly stare. I feel uneasy under his gaze, and i feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face. "No, I won't explain because it's not important." He says in a low, almost, growl. I flinch and look back into his eyes. I feel hurt by his words and I don't know why, but I know he sees it in my eyes. His faces flashes with regret but it's quickly covered up with his faces going back to it's hard cold look. I feel my heart stop and my face go pale. His look terrified me making me hold my breath. "Breath." He orders. I start to breathe again and just blink at him. "Now go." He orders me again. I flinch involuntarily at his tone and jump back slightly. "Please don't let me walk home alone." I beg in a quiet voice, looking down at my feet. The next thing I see are his black combat boots right in front of my shoes. I look up into his eyes and he looks down into mine confusion written all over his face. "How come you aren't running yet?" He questions searching my eyes. "I just can't walk home alone, please I'm scared." I hear him chuckle. "You aren't afraid of me? What can possibly be scarier than me?" He asks. "Well, I know you will keep me safe." "Why is that?" He questions raising an eyebrow at me. "You haven't hurt me." "Yet." He mutters, but I roll my eyes.

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