The Eccentric

7

I'm furious. Mad at Dr. Mann for keeping me here. Mad at the guards who stand at the doors watching in silence. Mad at Tate for blaming himself. Mad at myself for seeing his memories. Mad at the government for giving out the supplements and making the mistake in the first place. I miss my old life. I miss knowing the difference between day and night but most of all I miss my family and friends who probably never want to see me again.

By the time the guard come to collect me for my second trial I'm hysterical, refusing to come out of my cell and shouting out hurtful comments when he arrives at our usual time. I mope around the cell as he tries to coax me out rather than come in, clearly far too afraid to enter the cell containing the most dangerous Eccentric in the world. A moody seventeen-year-old suffering from hormone and attitude problems.

"Come on! Don't make me come in there," the guard threatens.

"Go to hell," I spit at him through the bars. He scoffs and reaches for his baton but instead brings out a set of keys from his pocket and starts to search through them. I shoot him a sarcastic smile to hide the sudden fear that comes over me. He's coming in.

"I warned you," he says once he finds the right key and starts to unlock the cell, but his trembling hands give him away. He may be scared of me but that doesn't mean he will abandon his orders. The moment he sets foot in my cell, I sprint away from the door wedge myself in-between the bed and the toilet knowing it will be hard for him to get me out.

After a lot of uncomfortable grabbing and shouting the guard gets a hold of my prison uniform and yanks me up by the collar.

"Let go of me!" I scream while scratching at the guard's rough hand on the back of my neck. "Please don't take me back there!" He continues to ignore me and pushes me forward until I slip on the wet flooring and fall face first into the ground. I call out in pain as an unbearable throbbing makes it's way to my now shattered nose when I pull my self up from the floor. I pull my bloodied hands away from my nose and whip around to face the apologetic guard with a snarl but instead of an apology, I am met another shove toward the door.

"Hey, get your hands off her!" Tate shouts but there is little he can do trapped behind bars. The guard picks me up as if I weigh nothing and throws me over his shoulder as I continue to kick and scratch, sending drips of fresh blood flying. By the time we leave the prison sector, I have gone limp in his arms in defeat.

+++

I'm back in that god damn chair, in that stupid room with the observation window. I sit, arms crossed, face sullen but this time I have no restraints. At least I get to keep a little bit of pride, even with my bloodied face and my swollen nose. All of a sudden, the door to the observation room opens and Dr Mann stalks out. Empty handed. I can't tell whether this is a good or bad sign.

"This time is going to be a little bit different," she states simply, "but don't get your hopes up, it will be just as hard as the others."

"You probably shouldn't get your hopes up either because I'm not participating today," I lean back on the chair and raise my eyebrows. The small movement sends ripples of pain to my nose and I fight to hold back a sob.

"I doubt you will be saying that when you see what we have planned," she turns and looks past the door into the observation room. What does she have planned?

"Bring her in." She shouts and walks toward the door to help the guards bring in the hobbled figure. I don't recognise them at first but then I hear her voice. I haven't heard it in years but I would be able to recognise it anywhere.

Aunt Trish is dragged into the room by two guards, who shove her forwards in their usual matter causing her to stumble toward me. She looks almost the same as she had when she left but weaker. Her young, sun-kissed complexion has been replaced with graying skin and baggy eyes that have an unhealthy glaze over them. She has lost weight. A lot of it. It looks like all these years underground haven't done her any good. She calls out to me the moment we make eye contact but before she can speak, Dr Mann spins around and stabs her in the stomach with a knife I hadn't noticed until now. The knife slides through her skin easily and blood spills to the clean, white floor. She falls to the ground in a heap, clutching her abdomen in agony and the guards turn around and leave with no hint of remorse.