Involuntary Victim - Book 3 in Jessie's Story

Chapter 1: Prisoner

My breathing came in shallow ragged wheezes. The relentless fever continued to consume my body, as chills, alternating between wild hot flashes coursed through me. Even with my eyes closed, not having the energy to even flutter them open, I could feel the harsh scratchy sheets. They clung uncomfortably to my body, which was coated in sweat. But even then, I dared not move because the body aches were almost unbearable. Any sort of shift or movement made me whimper. Every muscle in my body ached. I still felt the after effects of torture. I still felt like my muscles were being shredded apart. 

My consciousness came and went, like the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. I wished my mind would just stay in the dark. I didn't hurt when I was unconscious. Physically anyways. When I fled into the darkness of my mind the night mares would come. I had no idea how long I drifted in and out of the darkness. 

I came back to the present again, and this time I knew there was a change. Even without opening my eyes I knew someone was inside my cell. I just whimpered. I tried staying conscious long enough to figure out what was going on. I tried listening to the noises around my cell. I hear the gentle tinkling of medical instruments, foot steps, the air conditioning turning on, blasting my already cold cell with freezing air, there was also the soft hum of whispered voices. 

I had been here for a month already. I had been the subject to Janson and his wild experiments and ideas for a full month. I knew Minho's cell was on my one side and Sonya was beside me on the other side. Our open cells were adjoining. I knew Jason and Aris were somewhere down this hall. But I never saw them. I heard Minho and Sonya the odd time, screaming in pain, or whimpering and crying later.  Our cells faced the same direction, a long white hall with bright florescent lights. Our cells, or as Janson and the doctors called them our rooms, faced a row of identical cells, I never saw anyone in the cell across from me. 

This last round had been the worst yet. Every day Janson would waltz into my cell and ask me the same question, just a different person's name or subject number. 

"Will you be taking Subject B3's testing today?" 
"Will you be taking Subject A7's testing today?"
"Will you be taking Subject A15's testing today?"
"Will you be taking Subject B1's testing today?" 

My answer is always the same. Yes. It would give one of them a break. I would take their punishment, because I was the reason they were here. I called WICKED. I deserved it. Jason would nod curtly and then the room would fill up with people in white and, masks covering their faces, and cold rubber medical gloves. 

This last time, I had taken Minho's "testing" it was just plain old torture, with a fancy word, and they had injected me with something new. Within a few hours after they left the fever started, accompanied with a wild pounding headache and itchy skin, like I had creepy crawling bugs under my skin and crawling around my brain. A few hours after that the body aches and the fever kept climbing. They brought food, and I was starving, I ate it so fast, like I was starving, but it came right back up a few minutes later. By midnight I couldn't move. The creepy crawling itchy feeling was gone. 

I lay in the sweat soaked bed, shaking  and shivering. All I wanted to do was have Minho's arms around me. The only thing my pain riddled mind wanted was his arms around me, a few hot salty tears leaked out. 

"Shhh. Jessie, it's okay." 

Minho. Minho's voice. Minho was here, I felt a hand gently feel my forehead. 

"It's gonna be alright. I'm here. You're going to be okay." 

My fever riddled brain eased. Minho was here. He would make everything better. I almost cried in relief. I felt a cool cloth on my forehead, which helped ease the pounding headache for a brief moment. I felt a brief moment of sweet reassurance that everything would be okay.