Escaping Elysia

Chapter 24 - Panic

Evita

At around 11 or 12 'o clock that night, a scream wakes me. I sit bolt upright, the blanket tangled around my legs. Elysia is deathly quiet, and Nadya is sleeping peacefully, her small chest rising and falling with her breaths. My head pounds and my throat is thick and dry. I drank too much. I clutch my head and lie down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I must have dreamed it. As I drift away the sound lingers in my mind, haunting my sleep.

*

The next morning starts normally enough.

The alarm blares, waking us, and I get the sense that I dreamed something important, but I can't remember what it was.

As we walk to the bathroom I'm not jostled like I have been every other day by girls rushing to be first in the showers. There's actually some space between us.

When we reach our wing's bathroom, there are several unclaimed showers. More than usual. No one talks because the guard is watching us, her eyes sharper than usual this morning, but the girls share uneasy looks. For once, Leah's expression is absent of any haughtiness.

For the first time in all these weeks, she looks scared.

I step under one of the empty shower heads and begin washing, then sneak a glance at Nadya. I expect to find her staring into space, but she looks just as nervous as the rest of us, biting her lip and wrinkling her brow.

We dress and head to the cafeteria, all in one clump instead of spread out like normal. I didn't take the time to wring out my hair, quickly pulling a comb through it instead, and now it drips onto my t-shirt, soaking into the fabric. Once inside the cafeteria, the empty seats stand out, like an extra space in the typed words of a book.

People are definitely missing.

The only sound is silverware clinking against foil trays. Around the room peoples' shoulders are tensed and fingers tap against the table. It's obvious they want to talk, but not here. Not in front of the guards, whose hands are braced on their belts, next to their tasers.

It's as if they expect a fight to break out at any second.

As we join the line Dale spots us and runs over, pulling Nadya into a tight hug. His eyes are rimmed in red. A guard looks on disapprovingly, but makes no move to stop him.

"What's going on?" I whisper.

Dale looks at the guard, who's still watching us, and whispers back, "You were right. The people who were in the yellow and purple trials...they're gone."

I stifle a gasp, and look around the room. Every person with a yellow or purple dot tattoo is missing.

Nadya's voice, quiet but clear, breaks into my thoughts. "But I was in the yellow trial. I'm not gone." Dale and I exchange worried looks.

We're at the front of the line now. Dale carries Nadya's tray, still keeping a firm arm around her as we walk to our table. "I was so worried. When I thought they might have done something to you..." He clenches his jaw and squeezes his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. His eyes are narrowed, his face a deep red. I've seen Dale mad, but never like this. He looks like he could break a cement wall in two if that's what it took to protect his sister. I don't know whether to be frightened or comforted. Suddenly, Tasia's words come to mind, "He's someone you want on your side." I can't help but think she was right.

Tasia.

She was just moved to the purple trial. I scan the room but can't find her face. My head buzzes. No. This can't be happening. Where is she? I try to swallow but a lump has formed in my throat. This must be a mistake. She was moved to another facility, or maybe even released.

Do what you have to do.

A commotion begins a few tables away, and I look up to see Victor standing. His friends are tugging on his shirt, trying to pull him down, but he doesn't budge.

"Where is she?" he yells at a nearby guard, balling his hands into fists. I feel a stab of pain at his grief.

The guard's hand inches closer to his taser, but he stays put. "Sit down, son."

"Tell me. Please-" Victor screams again, though it comes out as more of a strangled sob. He breaks free from his friends' grasps and rushes the guard, his eyes wild. Bright tear tracks run down his face.

"Victor, no!" one of his friends yells, but it's too late. The guard fires and two probes shoot out of the end of the taser, embedding themselves in Victor's chest. A strangled sound escapes him, like a cross between a groan and a scream, primal. As the electricity hits him his body goes rigid and the muscles in his neck bulge out. He falls to the floor, just feet from our table, still spasming. Guards swarm in and carry him out of the cafeteria, his body limp. I know one shock from the taser won't kill him, but worry courses through me nonetheless. What will they do to him for this outburst?

My limbs feel heavy. I close my eyes, willing the image of Victor on the floor to go away. A tear trickles down my face, traveling over my cheek and onto my chin, where I suddenly feel a hand wiping it away.

I stiffen, and open my eyes. Dale sits back in his seat, tucking his hand under the table. The tips of his ears flush red.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Sorry? He should be sorry. If he had listened to me this never would have happened. Tasia would still be alive.

"I told you this would happen." My voice drips with venom, and the words burn as they leave my mouth. His face twists, a mixture of pain, and grief, and anger, but I don't care. Tasia is dead. I'll never hear her giggle again. I think about her room, and all the care she put into making it cheery, like a real home. They'll probably rip everything down, throw it away. She'll never take Victor to meet her family, like she so desperately wanted to.

She was my first true friend, and now she's gone. 

***

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! Please don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter :).