The Wastelands

Chapter 13

A sleepless night drifted into an early morning rise. Frank called for her to join him at breakfast. She freshened up in the bathroom before going downstairs. Warm water splashed on her hands and face, dripping slowly down her neck. She stared at her reflection after drying her skin and peered into the eyes of a girl she admired.

They denied her a mirror at the Hospital. The only time she caught a glimpse of herself was in the windows of rooms she passed by. The red in her hair had sharpened and grew softer to the touch. The curls became permanently wild as they dangled carelessly down the center of her back. She stood taller and walked stronger, with more purpose in every stride. Her tough skin matched the desire in her heart whenever she faced an enemy that threatened to take her down. The simulations she mastered got boring and her body adapted to each situation.

Then there were her eyes.

A year ago, they were simple and brown with no life to them other than what her parents forced upon her. With one prick of a syringe, those eyes transformed into looking glasses that shimmered brighter the more intense the situation grew. She fell in love with their icy blueness the first time she saw them and assumed what the doctors were doing actually meant something. Each one of those men and women lied and she forced them to stare into those mesmerizing orbs while they took their dying breath at her feet.

She had yet to find remorse for her actions at the Hospital. Killing the doctors that crossed her path meant nothing—not even revenge. They trained her to ignore her human emotions during the simulations and part of that training had stuck. There were still times she found herself unable to hide her nervous apprehension or her glee—another part of the experiment the doctors deemed as a failure. Due to their harsh judgments and the inevitable torture it brought, nightmares stole into her mind at night and kept her awake. The arduous tests they thrust upon her added to the terror looming behind her eyes if she slept for more than a few minutes at a time. She never allowed herself to sleep long enough for a nightmare to begin and her plans worked for the time being.

No more thinking. She told herself as she walked out of the bathroom.

Her quiet footsteps traced down the stairs, turning at the hallway toward the kitchen. Smokey eggs and bacon once again filled the house with mouthwatering aromas. It carried her into the kitchen and she found a seat at the table with a plate made just for her. Frank brought over a glass of orange juice and set it on a napkin. Condensation quickly soaked into the thin paper, sticking it to the bottom of the glass.

"Thank you." Blue stated before taking a bite.

He sat across from her and said, "You're welcome. I was going to ask if you slept well last night, but I heard you moving around."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized quickly, "I don't sleep great anymore. Too many bad dreams."

He nodded, "And yet you still look like you've slept for three days straight."

She shrugged and scooped a forkful of eggs into her mouth. A smile slipped across her lips, enjoying the man's small talk. Eating breakfast with her family had always been a chore. They never cared to ask how she slept or whether she felt well enough to go to school. Their small talk consisted of how the crops were doing or what needed to be done the moment she returned from school. It was constant work and taking care of the land—things that drove her insane.

She didn't miss any of that.

After they finished eating and washed their dishes, Frank had her help him with a few miniscule chores around the house. He chopped firewood while she stacked it in a neat pile close to the house. After twenty minutes, he passed the task on to her and watched her destroy the pile of logs in no time at all. She never broke a sweat or grew tired. In fact, she enjoyed the process and got used to the feeling of a larger axe in her grip.