Undergoing Us

Runner

Tyler

I am woken by the sound of my heart and the burning in my lungs. The light above me buzzes softly, its bulbs flickering. The aggravating buzz distracts me from the fire in my organs for a painful second before I feel everything.

My lungs burn with the flames of the sun. Taking a breath in, I feel the organ struggle to expand. I cough, struggling to even do so, but I do. I don't enjoy it as blue gelatin-like goop oozes out of my dry mouth. Seconds later, it drips out of my nose, causing my nostrils to burn. I cough again as it drips back down my throat. My body is loathing in agony.

   The only thing covering me is a thick gown that stops at my knees. I don't remember getting here. Rather, I don't remember anything before now; where I was before he spoke to me. He spoke to me, delight in his voice, but agony in his eyes. He told me to trust him, and that everything would be okay as long as I trust.

   You Liar.

   This isn't living. Living is scraping my eyes over the ocean's horizon, and laying my cold body in the sun. Living is crawling into bed, hours past the sunset, and curling up in the sheets. Living is taking a train to a different city just to get food from the only Korean restaurant in the state. Instead, I lay here awake with my lungs ahold by Hades and my mind burning with questions.

   Besides for coming up with questions, there is nothing else to do while lying in this bleak room. The bed holds white leather straps that grasp tightly on my wrists and ankles. There is not but a single chair in the room in front of a table that seems to be a desk. I lay my eyes on a bar that goes across the room with hooks for clothing. Yet, I fail to lay my eyes on something else. There is no window, no shelves, and no vent. Even the door has not a single thing to it. The chunk of steel seems to match the gray sheets and the clean white walls. It has a steering wheel-like crank in the center, almost like a bank safe.

This doesn't feel right. Not a single aspect of this room feels right. Nothing feels normal.

   I tug on the white straps that hold me to the bed. I tug and tug and tug until I hear a small rip coming from either one. The organs inside my body scream as I sit up. Quickly, I grip the oddly thick hospital gown between my teeth, to stop me from screaming in pain, and tug fifty times harder than before. Muscles in my arms strain painfully and my breathing becomes choppy as I feel a sudden wave of dizziness.

I can't pass out yet — I have to get out first.

Before my arm can rip off from my body, the strap crumbles from a final hard tug on my left hand. Breaking the strap allows me to free myself completely.

I lay on the lumpy bed as my breathing got more difficult, and I felt like dying. My lungs feel as if they rip from my body with every fluid-filled breath. As I exhale, I feel every inch of the inner walls coated in the blue slime. Everything hurts — I shouldn't be feeling everything.

You cheat.

Is this what I was brought here to do? Was I made to break out of shackles and writhe in pain?
  
As I undo the rest of the straps a loud clicking noise sounds from the steel door. Panic washes over me. Any second something will come through the steel door, and I don't have a single place to run.

   "She should be awake by now if you want to talk to you—" the man threw his clipboard on the ground "—get OGS unit 1! That bitch better get ahold of her subordinate!"

--

The alarms are blaring in my face. My eardrums are replaced with blood, hollowness following suit. I might be deaf by the end of the voyage.

   Quickly, I lay my eyes on a pile of boxes. On the other side of the boxes, loud thumping can be heard. The guards are coming. With one swift movement —and one hell of a struggle— I had climbed into one of the boxes. Hope grazed itself across my fingers as they were holding open the box from completely shutting and locking me in. They were also the only thing that could give away my position, as the lid was not shut smoothly.

"Sir, I do not know where she is. She must have taken her tracker off," A woman's voice lowly growled. Her vocals were hoarse like she had been up all night working out. The only word that could pop into my mind to describe her smooth scowl was hot.

"Stella, if she by any chance destroys or harms a single thing in this facility due to what we have gifted her, then your little companion and you will be put on trial. Do you now understand the value of that bitch?" Another voice, a man's, prodded back at the woman. My ears caught a faint groan from one of the two, but not out of annoyance, out of recognition. "Now get your little companion and bring her to The Mother, before I kick both your asses out into the silver storm currently happening," the man's voice seemed as if he was squeezing the little sympathy he had left in his body out.

"Yes General Pelli," exhaustion seeped out of her agreement. My heart wrenched at the sound of her tiredness. My heart wrenched. Strange.

Suddenly, a wave of stillness and calm overthrew every other sound and emotion occurring. Silence washed over my panicked demeanor. Soft footsteps neared the box, and yet I had not felt the need to prepare for attack. A quiet knock filled the small box's air and I was abruptly met with light.

The woman stood peering down at me, knowing. She smiled, chuckled, and reached out her hand to help me out. Her protruded veins were covered with tattoos of many variations. Without a second thought, however, I shook my head. She nodded, understanding me, oh so weirdly. Her knowingness of my emotional state intrigues me. We have only just met and this woman has caught ahold of every fiber of my curiosity.

"Stella Gannon," She spoke quietly as if I were to run away if she spoke any louder, "the troop calls me Steeg, but you can call me whatever you like."

I stared at her, "Tyler Lee, or bitch if you are a fellow man here."

She bellowed a laugh, a hoarse, husky laugh. God blessed this woman with androgyny. "Not a man, are you?" she questioned me. I knew she knew, she just wanted to talk.

"Last time I checked I did not, in fact, have testosterone rage," I paused briefly, "or a dick."

Her gorgeous laugh filled my ears again through the blaring sirens, "Why don't we get you out of this hallway and into your chambers?" With that, I let my hand fall into hers. Unknowingly, trust had already built its entirety around my heart. Unwillingly, I had let its vulnerability dig holes through my body.

Who, and what, is this woman?

She swiftly and easily tugged me out of the metallic box, lifting me into her arms bridal style. "Do you do this to all of the people you've just met?" I glanced up at her only to find her black irises staring back down at me. Mischief curiously swam in her eyes.

"Only the ones I find in boxes."

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Is this where I leave notes?
-K