The Grey. *-(A SciFi Thriller)-*

Part XVIII: Ami

Ami was tired. She was tired of running, tired of crying, tired of being lied to. At every turn, she was met with some strange new obstacle or anonymous villain to contend with.

Ami was tired still, as she sat in the stiff chair, arms bound and cramping at her side. The canvas mask, now cold and damp with old sweat and breath, stuck to her forehead, screaming to be itched. She wasn't sure how long she had been tied up and had already grown numb to the circus of interrogation tactics as rotating masked men and women came in and out of her makeshift cell.

"Not gonna get out this time," they cackled with faux confidence.

It took Ami a couple of sessions to notice, but every time she made any move - even a slight shift of weight in the chair, her guards would flinch - hands on their holsters. Whatever Sabrina did to them obviously left an impression.

The Vermin kept asking the same questions, but they seemed to already have made up their minds. To them, she was the ultimate enemy - an agent of The Faceless.

At first, she protested - trying in vain to explain that she wasn't working for anyone, that she was a victim in this too. But her pleas fell on deaf ears, and over time, her desperate cries turned quiet, and she was numb again.

She looked up, through the thick weave of the canvas mask, and little specks of light twinkled like stars in her blurred vision. The droning hum of the ceiling fan above was her only company through the long waits between interrogations. She listened to it, swaying lightly with the beat, and let her head lull to the side with a heavy sigh.

I can help you, Ami.

The sudden voice boomed in her head, shocking her upright.

"Hello?" she called, her voice muffled in the mask.

All you have to do is sleep.

Ami swallowed heavy, her throat tight and dry.

It was her. The monster, the murderer, the predator she became at night. It was here, in her head, speaking to her in a lilac-sweet voice.

You know what you have to do, Ami. Let me take over.

"So what, so you can kill them? I know what you do. I know what you've done," Ami spat.

Do you? Do you know what I've done? Because as much as you try to remember the past, you seem to forget the most important details, Ami.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

What happened before they put us in the bubble, Ami?

Ami hesitated. She remembered the stars, twinkling bright in the night sky. She remembered the cold night wind hitting the back of her arms, and the dew-wet grass beneath her bare feet as they walked her to the unfamiliar car in the driveway.

Before that. Before that, Ami.

Ami shook her head. There was blood... blood on her hands, glowing in the orange hue of the lone firefly-shaped night light in her room. Her... her and her sister's room. Whose blood? No, it's not her sister's. She's there, sitting on the bottom bunk, hugging her knees tight. Her sister is crying. Why is she crying?

Closer. Closer.

"I... I don't remember what happened. I blacked out... The blood was only there when I woke up. After... After you took over."

Ami. What happened to wake me up? What happened before you blacked out?

"No... No."

It hurt too much to remember. Sharp crackles of pain shot through her chest, and her hands turned into fists. She pulled against the restraints to a point where they were burning her wrists.