He pauses at the door, looking at me over his shoulder. “I want the names of the fuckers who hurt her, and their families.” With a nod, Marcus and Luke walk off to get the details we need while I send another text to my source, making sure to keep it brief in case he’s somewhere important or someone can see his phone. I need him alive if I want to keep getting information.
Need some more details.
His response is almost instant but it tells me what I need to know.
Trying. Give me time.
But Darlia doesn’t have time. I don’t have time.
And I won’t let them have her for any longer than they need.
I promised she wouldn’t get hurt again, because I was assured she wouldn’t end up back in the chair. I thought that meant she was safe, that we could be careful but not have to watch her every move.
I broke my promise to her again.
Chapter 25:
Darlia
It’s cold, so cold. My body trembles and aches, but there’s no reprieve. This isn’t the chair. I’m not restrained. Wherever they have me, they aren’t worried about me escaping.
Pushing myself off from the ground, my arms tremble and ache in protest while my head throbs. I can almost feel the pulse of my heart beating through my skin as I collapse back down to the ground with a groan.
Whatever they injected me with, it’s still working.
Lifting my head, I look around the room, unable to see anything. I’m alone, I think. I can’t hear anyone else breathing. I’m locked in a dark room, the only light coming through a small glass, square cut in the door. They haven’t restrained me, or bothered to provide anything to keep me warm. I’m freezing, my body starting to tremble from how cold it is. I try to feel around for a blanket, but there’s nothing.
Suddenly, the lights turn on from above, blinding and disorienting bright white lights, surrounded by all white padded walls. My head throbs. I’m in a cell from the before. The type of rooms they would keep those who could not be trusted with themselves. They changed me, too. I’m in a heavy, red cotton dress, my knife is still in its sheath on my thigh. Aren’t they worried about me hurting myself? Or others?
“PX-3, good. You’re awake.” A man I’ve never seen before walks in, his smile is warm but his eyes are cold and lifeless. My brain is screaming in protest to everything happening right now. But mostly warning me about the man walking into the room.
The man standing in front of me is taller than me, but shorter than Cayden, so somewhere between 5’10 and maybe 6’2, I can’t tell from the floor. His face has wrinkled with age and his hair is grey despite the fact he looks to be in his mid to late fifties. He’s stood in front of me, looking like both hot and cold. Like he wants to be kind, to reassure me, but he also couldn’t care less about me.
“Where am I?” I croak, my throat dry and desperate for water. It must have been days that I’ve been passed out.
“Don’t worry about that, sweet child. What matters is you need some help in your training. Your Overseer has noticed you deviating from the experiment, so they asked me to help you. My name is Doctor Langdon, and yes, you may know my name. I’m going to make sure you feel all better, and you’ll be back at The Academy before you know it.”
No.
No.
“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong? I’ll be better I promise, I’ll get better, I’ll do better, I swear.” Given I’m either about to be tortured or killed, I’m not above begging, I would do so on my hands and knees if I needed to.
“Oh sweet child, don’t worry, we’re here to help you. You don’t need to worry about anything, we will make sure you’re all fixed up before you go.” Doctor Langdon lifts his hand in what I am sure is a signal before two guards dressed in all white jumpsuits walk in. They stand on either side of me, grabbing both my arms and dragging me out of the room and down to a corridor.
Everything is white; the walls, the lights, the doors, the floors. Every single thing down to the uniform is white. It’s blinding. The lack of colours or any type of darkness only makes my head pound harder. My body protests their rough grips with aches, but I can’t fight them. Even if I tried, I’m too weak.
The red dress they’ve put me in is the only contrast to the room.
“Please, my name is Darlia Monroe. I’m nineteen, I’m just a girl, I’m human.” I try to remember what Cayden told me about Clover, what made her feel the most human. Maybe if I had a reaction, they will too. “Please, I made a mistake, I’ll be better, I’ll do better. I’m the best in The Academy, I can be that. I won’t ever deviate from the mission again.”
But before I can say anything else, my entire body, including my dress, is dropped into an ice-cold bath, one guard holds me down by my waist while the other grabs my head and pushes me under the water.
I don’t protest at first. Being under the water is almost inviting. There’s a muffled sound in my ears and I revel in it. It’s so quiet, even the brightness isn’t so bad. Anything is better than the complete silence other than my own voice.
In some messed up way, being below in water makes the pounding in my head lessen.
Quickly, my lungs begin to burn, begging to breathe. I start to fight, screaming under the water, making air bubbles burst on the surface. They hold me down even as I thrash around in their grasp.
