TWISTED // Clato | ✓

Chapter 25: I AM NOT INSANE

A/N: Photo is an edit made by mwah. Love Don't Die by the Fray (I just love that song)

CLOVE'S POV:

I awaken to a dim, sick light. I can't feel anything. I vaguely remember being shoved into a van, but then something was thrust into my arm and I fell into a deep sedation. Where am I now? Have I been whisked through time again?

No; I still remember everything. Being beat up by those freaks like I was nothing more than a rag doll; it made no sense to me at the time, and I still don't get it. I mean, I'm Clove. The girl with the knives... How, then, was I able to be thrown around by those scrawny kids? 

I didn't have my knives.

And then Cato came and rescued me... sort of. My heart starts to hurt when I think about him. Where is he now? Where am I?

Little waves of feeling creep into my limbs as I gradually wake up to the room around me. I struggle into a sitting position and examine my surroundings.

I have never been in a duller, uglier room. Concrete walls surround me and I lie on a thin pallet on an iron floor. The only other piece of furniture is a low, bare wooden table. A small iron-barred window admits only a little light. A barred door is the only exit. 

Call it an asylum; I call it a prison.

I look down at myself. I'm still wearing the same T-shirt and pair of jeans as before. I guess they didn't bother to change me into asylum clothing... Merely the thought of that sets my heart rate up. I'm not insane; I know I'm not. So why am I here and why did they put us here without a second thought?

I realize now that this is why Marguerite was also sent here to keep an eye on us. To make sure we wouldn't remember who we were--now I'm seeing the consequences of that. We don't fit in here and we can't pretend we do. Chills race up my legs and I hug my knees. I've never felt so alone like this. Even that moment where I was dying in the arena, I still had Cato beside me. Where is he now?

I stare up at the unfriendly walls and ceiling of my cell. I long for anyone else to be here right now; anyone, even Glimmer. The physical form of another human being beside me to prove that I'm real, that this is real, that I'm not crazy.

Footsteps clattering in the hallway draws my attention. I raise my head. The outer door opens and a masked face peers through the bars, and then I hear the rustle of keys as the door is unlocked.

"How are you feeling, Miss Kentwell?" asks a woman's voice as she steps carefully into my cell.

"Let me out!" I shout at her.

She sighs. "I am sorry, Clove, but according to our tests, you are very mentally unstable, and we must keep you here to ensure the safety not only of others, but of yourself as well."

Anger burns inside me. I'm not crazy!

"Listen to me, woman," I hiss at her. "I don't belong here, and neither does Cato. The reason you think we're weird is that we come from another time!"

She lets out another of those hopeless sighs, and I've never felt so indignant. "It was a time machine; I swear! We come from the future, and not only that! There will soon be a war ravaging your city! You have to listen to me!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

She, sensing potential personal dangers, shields her chest with her arms and forces me onto the mat again. I fight back, but she will not let go. I struggle beneath her arms, which feel as firm as tree trunks. Why am I, Clove, being pinned down by a woman? 

Yet she must be practiced; I can tell by how she handles it. She straps me to the floor. I continue to struggle, but the straps hold me fast.

I have never felt so caged. I start screaming at the top of my lungs; maybe not such a bright idea if I'm trying to prove my sanity--but I can't stand this confinement.