Number Seven

Chapter 2

I groan. My shoulder blades squeeze together as all of my senses come back in the span of two seconds, after taking in a fresh breath of morning air. Every fiber of my cotton bedsheets brushes against my skin. A satisfying chill runs through me as I think of what things I'll do today.

Watch a movie or two? Maybe sleep a little longer? Have my father scream at me for living such a useless life. My smile fades and reality hits. The distinct smell of chilled concrete strikes my nose. I use my eyes to stare up at the tall ceiling above me.

My smell and sight seem extraordinarily unpleased by what they've managed to pick up. I prop myself up on my elbows and carefully examine the person leaning over me. My eyes flutter like wild butterflies, hoping, wishing, praying that this is a dream. I want to say something, anything, but I can't. I'm stunned.

I'm paralyzed.

Dark, honey-brown hair fluffs in the reflection of my gaze as piercing blue eyes gaze back; just as intimidating as the woman from yesterday. My heart pulses against my chest as every second goes by. I'm taken aback by his smooth skin and slightly toned color from the sun as he continues to stare. "You're a girl," he whispers with a smirk slowly intoxicating his face. 

Suddenly, my arm is taken out from under me and my back hits the mattress. Before I can object, I notice him observing the skin on my wrist. His fingers wrap around my arm as he examines the tattoo they tasered into me. "Guess we're roommates, number Forty-nine."

"What?" I blurt out. "This is obviously a mistake," I grunt, ripping my hand out from his grasp. My eyes search for a number and find it in the lower left of the barcode-like print.

He leans in closer than before and stares me dead in the eyes. "The Coordinators don't make mistakes, sweetheart." I want to gag.

"Get off of me," I demand with a scowl carved into my face. When he doesn't do what I say, I kick him to the side and roll onto the floor, reaching out for my duffel bag. Splitting the flaps open, I dig into the depths of my clothes. When I can't find what I'm looking for I backtrack my steps. It couldn't have disappeared. I look again, pushing my belongings from side to side.

"Looking for this?" I flash my sights back on him, finding his fingers wrapped around what rightfully belongs to me. "I'm surprised you even got through security with this thing," he comments, turning it between his fingers. I stand to my feet all while keeping a tight gaze on the object.

"That's not yours so give it back like a good boy," I say, holding out my hand.

"Good boy?" he catechizes, throwing me a look. I stay silent for a little while as he continues to send me this look of superiority.

I'm still standing in my defensive position by the time a minute rolls around. "Fine keep it," I concede, moving closer to the edge of my bed. My arms drop to my sides along with my shoulders as I relax the muscles in my face.

"What? Real—" I lunge a pillow at his face and charge in for his feet but he catches my play just in time to jump. My hands wrap around one of his ankles for a second attempt as I kick my legs up and into his stomach until he's on the floor with me.

"Give it back!" I demand, reaching to his outstretched arm.

"No way in hell am I giving this back," he says with a playful laugh. The second I find myself in reach of what's mine, he reels me back by the ends of my hair. A quick grunt shoots out my throat as I'm pulled back to square one.

"I'd be delighted to send you there myself." His teeth flash my way as I unhinge his hand from my hair. I leap out for another chance to take what's mine but his hands switch places in holding the object before latching onto my wrist and dragging me down on top of him.