I Am Number 53.

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."