Just a Normal D-Class

9

      "Ugh..." she let out a groan and rubbed her eyes, getting to her hands and knees. Her vision was muddy, but she pushed herself to her feet. Everything ached, but she smiled. She knew exactly where she was now. She was in containment.

The room was vast and empty, with nothing but a toilet, sink, and bed. The walls and floor were metal, like everything in the Foundation.

She began to pace the walls, tracing her fingertips across the cool metal. There had to be something in the cell she could use to entertain herself- or even break out of the miserable room.

Suddenly grinning, D ran over to the stiff metal bed and began to rip off the excuse for a mattress. There were a bunch of metal bars that looked like a miniature rack of monkey bars seen from above. D gripped one of them firmly and began to tug at it.

It was just slightly loose, and so she could just barely move it. With some effort, she was able to shift the bar aside, and pop it out of place. It clanged loudly on the floor when it fell, and she winced. D leaned down and picked the bar up when there was no response from the hallway.

She stood erect and tossed the bar to each hand, satisfied with her excavation. She made her way to the door and tapped the keycard slot with a finger. Then, with a chuckle, she held the metal bar like a spear and bashed it into the slot.

A wave of electricity buzzed through the bar and connected with D's hands, causing her to drop it and jerk back. "Shit!" She hissed, waving her hand around in the air. After a moment she stepped back up to the slot. It had a large dent that was sparking, and the tiny light on the side was flickering.

She felt the light tingle of satisfaction and went to the door. It was still closed, but when D pushed against it, it let out a loud jerking buzz and slid partially open. D stood sideways and slipped through the gap.

The hallway was a familiar eye-piercing white, with bright florescent lights forcing themselves into D's eyes. Any normal person would have rubbed their eyes, or at least blinked to get themselves used to the brightness. But D was not a normal person.

She reached a hand for her pocket, happy to find the knife had shredded much of it but had not fallen out. She gripped the handle as if it was an anchor. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around it that they seemed to throb to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

She began to walk down the hallway, her stained sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor as if defying the silence that filled the air. She had no idea where she was going, but that didn't matter. She'd get there eventually.

So she kept walking, taking random turns and always keeping a tight grip on her knife. After a while she ran into two doctors escorting a D-class. The doctors were middle-aged men, and the D-class was a young woman. She had fear in her eyes even as the doctors noticed D.

"A D-class..? Wait- Hey, stop!" The taller of the doctors let go of the D-class and stepped up to D. "What are you doing out of your cell- Is that a knife!?" He lunged towards D, reaching for the knife. She grinned and took a diagonal step back, then turned the blade to his hand and pressed forward.

 The knife dug straight into his palm, cutting through delicate nerves and into tight muscle. He screamed, yanking his hand back and tearing the blade from his palm. D was unfazed, unlike the rest of her audience. The D-class stumbled back, yanking her arm from the doctor's grip. 

D gave her a small smile and she ran, turning a corner and disappearing. The doctor who had been stabbed clutched his hand and gave D the death stare. The other one blinked and then began fumbling for his gun. 

But D was already there, the blade of her precious weapon pressed against his throat. "No no," she whispered, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The doctor froze and met her eyes. Even though she was shorter than him, she saw the fear lighting up his irises.

With a laugh she slid the knife across his throat and kicked his feet out from under him, causing the blade to cut into his jaw when he fell. She stepped back and turned back to the other doctor. He was gaping at her, clutching his bleeding hand.

"Wha- Who are you?" He gasped, his chest heaving. She knelt down so she was eye-to-eye with him. "Not 'who'. I am a what. An 'it'." She ran a finger delicately over the blade of her knife, blood staining her fingertip.

"A monster." She smiled and turned the tip of the knife to face where his heart was beating under his ribs. He blanched and she smiled. "A freak. Weirdo. Who am I? I'm D. I'm a psychopath."

She stood up. She wanted this one to live. To spread the word. His eyes were full of dread even as she took a step away from him. "Go on, spread the word," she laughed.

"I've breached."

Sorry, I took so long on this! I've been super busy with marching band and art commissions and family stuff. 

Anyway, point out any mistakes or don't, I don't really care :P