Enhancement

- - 3 - -

"Injection?" I say, voice catching and squeaking. My mind flashes back to the lethal black ink in the syringe, sloshing and churning. The fiery pain in my wrists burns in acknowledgement.

The boy chuckles lowly. "You'll know what I mean soon. But whatever you did--" he says, looking into my eyes. I suddenly realize how handsome he is. "Earned you the worst number here."

His gaze moves toward my tattooed wrists again. I cover them with the hem of my hospital gown, feeling bare in comparison to his gray sweatpants and white shirt. They look comfortable and warm unlike my paper-thin hospital dress.

The gray pants remind me of my mother's, the ones she wore to bed every night. Homesickness creeps in from all angles like claustrophobia. None of this makes any sense. How did a Train ride lead to me being trapped in a sealed room with a stranger?

I turn away from the boy, blinking away even more tears. I have no idea how I found my way into this prison, but there's sure as hell no way out.

"Wait," I splutter, whipping my head towards him again. "Are all the other Train riders here? Like Nicolette?"

The boy stares at me, his eyes trained on a stray tear running down my face. I wipe it away quickly.

"Who's Nicolette?" he asks bluntly.

"She was my-- friend," I say. "When the, uh, Train--" I look away from him, tear stinging my eyes.

The boy grabs the sides of my face and turns my head towards him. His nose is inches away from mine, much too close to me.

"Tell me everything," the boy insists. The way his hands rest on me make me want to explode. I can't handle another hand touching me when I don't want to be, latex-covered or not.

I grab the boy's wrists and rip his hands off me. Scoffing, I jump to my feet and storm to the other side of the room. The effort takes the wind out of me, and I struggle not to pass out.

"Don't touch me," I gasp, clutching my stomach. My breathing becomes labored as my injuries fight against me.

The boy laughs, still sitting. "That's the least of our problems right now."

"What problems?" I exclaim, his laugh threatening to throw me into hysterics. "I don't have any idea what's going on! First, I'm on a Train, expecting to go to school, and now I'm in some sort of torture place? Nothing makes any sense!"

"Well if you don't tell me what you know, then I won't tell you what I know," the boy threatens. "We need to work together."

"I have no reason to trust you," I state blatantly. "I don't even know your name."

The boy sighs. "Fine. My name is Stephen." He throws his hands in the air. "Happy?"

"No, Stef-fen," I drag out with sarcasm.

He groans. "Well, you know what? Whatever you did must have been pretty bad if you're the lowest ranked person here. You'll be dead within the hour."

"What?"

Stephen sighs. "I've been in here for two years, and there's always something to test on us. Whether its an injection, a pill, a machine, nobody will blink if you die in their experiments."

He pauses. "So I suggest you tell me everything."

"Fine," I say, sitting back down. Keeping my word choice vague, I describe everything to Stephen, from the SkyTrain ride in the morning to being thrown in the white cell with him. The more I explain, the more afraid I become of dying, and the more probable it seems.

"And the experiments?" I ask dreadfully, waiting a moment for Stephen to process my story. "What happens in them? How do you survive them?"

"You don't survive them. You endure them," Stephen says, running a hand across his face and pacing the room. Eyes stricken with a faraway look, I realize he relives the horrors every time I mention them. "You'll be keeled over in the corner when the experiment starts. If the pain fades, then you've endured."

My stomach jumps.

"Wait, now tell me about your compulsory test again," Stephen interrupts, sitting down next to me. His voice is softer with understanding. "What was in that syringe?"

"I don't know," I say, "It looked clear but in a smaller syringe than the black liquid was. The stupid voice from the speakers said it could cure pain."

"Of course they did," Stephen says, pausing. "But why are you 400? There has to be something else we're missing. Are you sure you didn't provoke the workers or something?"

I look down at my wrists again, the harsh-looking 400 branding my skin. Stephen pulls his wrists away before I can read his number, but I know for a fact that he's 399. Nicolette was 389, and just as I open my mouth to tell him that, I snap it shut.

Stephen glances at me. "Hmm?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know. S-So how long were you, uh, here again?" I say, covering up my mistake.

"Two years," he says with a sideways look, shaking his head. The black tattoos catch my eye again, but unlike mine, his numbers sit off-centered on his wrists. "The Screeners arrested me on my apartment building's roof for missing my Train. Then I ended up in here."

I visibly jump again, his words throwing me off-guard. Stephen jerks his head towards me with a startled look. I try to contain myself, but my throat makes a weird noise. Way to go, Holland.

"400, what's wrong with you?" he asks, "Does anything hurt? Can you breathe alright?"

"Yes," I say, lying. "I'm fine. It was my ribs again, uh, because of the Train crash. It's gone now."

"Good," he sighs cautiously, still analyzing me.

"Yeah, good," I say, sinking against the wall again. My mind whirls as I glance over at Stephen again. His strong build seemed familiar for a reason, I knew it. He's the boy I saw screened all those years ago when he missed his Train. He's the one who caused my partial Screening. He's the reason why Nicolette died as my ex-friend rather than my best friend.

He's the reason why we're sitting here trying to figure out what atrocity I committed to get me landed next to him. Odds are, it was the partial screening...

Another haunting thought clouds my mind: Stephen's the reason I'm Number 400.

-- -- -- -- --

recognize the name stephen? well, the least voted-for name was stephen, and i decided to use it because it was my favorite! Don't worry, though, nathan and tanner will show up in later chapters!

Question: Pick a color: navy, white, or gray.

Follow-up Question: Pick a word: mistake, good, or attempt.

post choices in the comments and the most-picked ones will show up in the next update or two. keep a look-out for them; first person to spot them and comment where you found them wins a dedication and i'll check out one of your works! Let the games begin :)