My chest heaves with the pressure, but again I force out, “I don’t know.”
“Get her to the bunk room. No food for a day.” I feel hands on me, but this time I don’t try to fight as my wrists and ankles are released. Why would I when they are taking me back to warmth, safety? I feel arms move under my back and my legs as I’m carried away. The scent is almost familiar in a way I don’t understand.
I stare at the masked guard, the black shirt, the bulletproof vest. The tanned skin and the bulked arms, trying to understand why he seems so familiar. It’s not Cayden, I know it’s not Cayden, so who else could it be? I haven’t met anyone else without killing them.
The elevator ride is short. My body trembles as the guard pulls me in closer, as if he’s trying to give me his warmth. He doesn’t walk me to my bunkroom like the Overseer orders, instead the guard walks me to the bathing sector, laying me down on a bench and turning on a shower. I watch as he turns the temperature down, almost until it’s cold before placing me inside, still clothed.
The water burns my skin despite how cold I know it is, my body protesting the subtle warmth that glides over my skin. The cut on my cheek throbs in pain, and after a minute, he turns the heat up. The guard repeats the process until I’m warm, the water no longer burning my skin, before pulling me out and sitting me back down on the bench, stripping me down to my underclothes and throwing a towel around my hair and body.
I’m picked up again, and I don’t fight as I’m taken back to the assigned bunk room. Bella is sleeping in Lauren’s bed as I’m laid on mine.
The guard is surprisingly gentle with me, massaging my scalp with the towel before scrunching the ends of my hair, drying them slowly, patiently. Like he has remorse for what he’s just put me through, if it was him.
Then once the guard is satisfied, he uses the same towel on my arms and legs, being careful to avoid anything in between before grabbing a fresh set of pyjamas and placing them on the bed beside me. He doesn’t once try to hurt me, all he does is try to help me.
The guard tilts my chin to see the cut, and must decide it’s not bad because he shakes his head before stepping out and walking away. He doesn’t once say a single word to me, doesn’t show me his face, doesn’t give me any clue to who he is. He just leaves me alone, expecting me to finish the job he started, so I do.
I stand stripping off the cotton bra and underwear, throwing the wet clothes along with the mission uniform in the clothing bin, then quickly drying off the rest of my body before putting on the pyjamas and grabbing the towel.
Walking myself to the healing sector, I wait for the doctor to stitch up my hand and the cut on my head before falling asleep in one of the beds, unable to manage the walk back to the bunk room. My body collapses in exhaustion and pain.
Chapter 16:
When morning comes, I still feel the torture from the previous night; the aching in my wrists and ankles, the throbbing on my cheek and pain still radiating in my arm from whatever drugs they gave me. Forcing myself from the bed and removing my blanket to grab out Lauren’s journal, I use the brief moment of peace before anyone else wakes up to read some more.
Mummy still hasn’t found me. It’s been a week, and I don’t like it here. The other girls are mean and violent. They told me I have a partner, her name is Darlia. But I don’t want a partner, I want my mummy. They told me to pick up a Gun today. I tried to tell them Mummy would never let me pick up a gun
But they didn’t listen. They told me my mummy would be proud of me, that she would want me to learn how to use one. I met Madam today as well, she’s mean and grouchy. I don’t understand what I did wrong, I must have done something wrong for Mummy to send me away.
It’s really cold at night, there’s only a thin blanket on my bed. They told me once I move to my assigned bunk room the blanket will be warmer, but why can’t I have one now? I can barely sleep at night with how cold it is. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I hope my mummy finds me soon.
I almost want to laugh. The Academy censored my name. As if Cayden doesn’t already know it, and whoever else he’s told. I flip to the next page and notice the difference in the writing immediately. Lauren must’ve been older; she must’ve forgotten about the diary for a while and decided to come back.
It’s been three years now. I don’t wait for Mum to come back anymore, I’m not sure I would even recognise her if she did. I’ve lost most of my memories of her. Darlia is still my assigned partner, she’s much better than me at fighting, shooting, everything really.
She’s trying to teach me how to shoot, so that the Madam is happy with my progress, but the target looks so much like a person, that I tense. I can’t do it. I haven’t been allowed on any missions because of this and I can tell Darlia isn't happy with me because of it.
I try to be like her, but I can’t think about taking someone else’s life, even if they are doing a bad thing. There should be a proper justice system; a trial, jail time. Not death. But all crimes are now punishable by death.
dARLIA does protect me though, she doesn’t let the Major or the Madam hurt me. She has also taught me how to defend myself on the mat. I am getting better at that, at least. I’m just trying to survive. I just want to get out of here.
I feel my heart beat twice as fast in my chest. Lauren wanted to make me happy? She didn’t have to do that. I close the book, quickly hiding it back in the mattress before sitting with my head in my hands.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. I’m not sure how the afterlife works, or if she can hear me, but the rising guilt I feel in my chest hopes she does. I hope she understands I was just a child, too, trying to survive, trying to make everyone else happy without knowing what it would cost.
Holding back the tears that threaten to escape, I wipe my eyes and change into the assigned training uniform. I have no missions today, I have no expectations to see or talk to Cayden.
For once, it’s just a normal day of training.
I don’t wake Bella as I walk out of the assigned bunk room. I go down to the training sector and walk into the gym where the punching bags are lined up, ready to use. It’s mostly quiet this early in the morning; only Jackie and Padma are in the gym, both of them on the weights. I give a simple nod as a hello before staring at the bag.
Not bothering with the gloves, I take a deep breath before hitting the hard punching bag, my knuckles almost instantly aching at the collision. Has it really been that long since I’ve trained? I suck in a deep breath, keeping my stomach tight as I raise my fists and punch the bag with a sharp exhale every hit.
It’s not a gun, and it’s not the knives, but it helps clear my mind from everything that’s happened.
Only when my core is aching and knuckles cannot physically handle any more do I turn to the treadmills. We’re only expected to be able to run five miles without stopping, anything further isn’t a part of training, so I don’t usually use the machine. Starting to run, by the time I’ve stopped, I see I ran three miles in fifty minutes. That’s the worst time yet.
