Rogue

10

~Alyssa~

I sit alone in the dark room, my knees pressed against my chest. It hurts to move, and it hurts to breathe. The good thing is that my punishment is finally over. I don't know how many hours it's been, and I don't know what to expect next. All I do know is that I need to hold on to this pro for as long as I can. It is uncertain when I'll get another.

   The con is that I'm in rough shape. My skin is swollen, liquid still seeping from the lash wounds. I'm unable to see out of one eye. I've been cut by a knife a countless number of times, had the flesh of my legs and stomach burnt off, and have had my jaw dislocated, reset, and dislocated again. My arms have been popped out of their sockets and reset a few times as well. The soldiers have injected me with some type of liquid that shoots through my veins and activates every thirty seconds or so, sending me writhing on the floor as searing pain spreads throughout my body. They say that I'll finally bleed it out in about twenty-four hours.

   I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes tightly. Another wave of pain is starting, this time running straight from my heart. I clutch my chest, wishing that there was something that I could do to extinguish it. But I don't need to. I need to just accept the fact that the pain is there, that I have to live with it.

   Pain is the only thing I can remember ever feeling, and it's probably all I'll feel for the rest of my life.

   Light flashes across the room for a moment, knocking me out of my thoughts and hurting my eyes as the silhouette of a soldier becomes illuminated in the doorway. Then the door slams shut and footsteps echo throughout the room, each one sending a wave of searing pain shooting through my head. Suddenly, another painful sensation floods through my veins, lessening the problem of my head.

   Finally, the soldier is standing right in front of me. I curl up into as much of a ball as I can muster, ready for a bullet to be fired before it makes its way through my skull. I wait to feel it enter, the metal tearing its way through flesh, blood spurting from the hole. I wait to become just like Mikko, or, even worse, just like Tom. After several years, my end may come today.

   But the soldier just looks down at me for a moment, adjusting the helmet on their head for a moment before finally muttering something and removing it. I have to squint for a moment, black spots still residing in my vision from the sudden light as the pain finally fades from my veins.

   The woman in front of me seems to be so familiar, but I don't know how or why. Her hair is extremely short, appearing to have been buzzed a time or two. I can't tell exactly what color it is in the darkness. Nor can I tell her eyes. But her facial shape, the way she walks, the way she carries herself, reminds me of someone I know. Someone I've seen before. I just can't put my finger on it, and it's driving me crazy.

   She looks down at me with a small sneer on her face. "Get up." Her voice is low, basically a snarl. I obey as quickly as I can, pushing myself up, but my head begins to spin and I hit the ground again. I keep trying, though, forcing my feet to get under me. I know that more punishment will happen if I disobey, if I don't obey quickly enough.

   By the time I finally rise to my feet, the shock has activated twice and black spots flood my vision. My eyes had adjusted to the dark room, but now I can see almost nothing. The soldier looks at me for a moment before gripping her gun a little tighter and slamming the butt of it into my jaw, sending me sprawling to the floor once again. "That wasn't quick enough. Again." I nod, gritting my teeth and wincing, forcing myself up. It's a little quicker this time, and it seems to be enough for the soldier.

   Slowly, she begins walking around me in circles. "I had originally been ordered to shoot you upon entering, but then the General changed his mind. I think they like getting under your skin. I think they like having you as their punching bag, and I think I'll grow to enjoy it, too." She shoots me a quick smile with malice behind it, and I try my hardest not to flinch away from her. "It's the least you can take for killing two of our men." She stops right in front of me, her eyes boring into mine. "But first, I need to know a few things. I was informed that you were in captivity with the others. Were you aware of the crimes that Mikko Mustonen and Thomas Blount committed while there?"

   "No, ma'am. I wasn't," I say, though it comes out sounding weird. Probably from the multiple blows to my face. I shake my head to make sure that she understands. "I---I was unaware the entire time of their associations and crimes."

   "When you were brought out by your guard, why did you run?"

   I swallow, taking a breath. When I don't immediately speak, the soldier raises her gun to my temple. "Why did you run?" she repeats slowly.

   "He---he told me that I was no longer his responsibility, and that I could run or die. I decided to choose the former." I wince as the pain begins building up in my veins once more.

   "And did you see him after that?"

   I nod slowly, closing my eyes tightly. "He was the second man that I killed. The first one was in my way and was about to shoot me down, so I located a random spot in his throat and slashed my knife across it. I didn't realize that it would kill him."

   "What's your code number?"

   "My what?" I ask, knitting my eyebrows together in confusion. I don't have a code number. Those were reserved for the humans that were transformed into robots before the Sickness swept through. Even then, the trials were voluntary. I would've remembered going through something like that.

   "Your code number," the soldier snaps, and I can tell that she's losing her patience with me quickly. "The batch that you were in and the individual coding that they gave you."

   "I---I don't have one," I stutter, and her finger tightens on the trigger. "Honestly, I don't. I'm not a bot. I'm not Sick."

   "Of course you are. We'd know whether or not you were Cured." Cured? What is that supposed to mean?

   Seeming to ignore my confusion, the soldier goes on. "How far along were you in training before they caught you and brought you to the bunker?"

   "I was never in training," I say, hearing a hint of exasperation in my voice. I don't understand why I keep getting asked about these things.

   The soldier gives me a look that tells me she's not buying any of this. "You seemed to do quite the job with that flimsy little knife. There has to be some type of training that you went through."

   "I was only ever trained to survive by my family when I was younger. Never anything else. I never intended to kill those two men. All I wanted to do was get by them. All I wanted to do was keep my heart beating and my lungs breathing. What I did, that was the first thing that came to mind to keep me alive." My eyes flit to the floor as I take in a deep breath. I still can't believe that I actually did this.

   Another smile crosses her face, even more malicious than the last. Then she rams the butt of her gun directly into my stomach, causing me to fall over in agony. I thought that this part would be over by now. She slams it in the same spot again and again, causing me to writhe around on the floor. Finally, she stands and begins to take her exit. As she approaches the door, she turns back to face me. "You'd better get used to seeing me. From now until your life ends, I will be one of the only people you ever see. And the others were right. I am going to enjoy preparing you." Then she wrenches the door open and slams it shut behind her, leaving me completely enveloped in darkness once more.

   What could she possibly be talking about? What are they preparing me for?

   At this point, I'm not sure I'd like to ever know.