Subject Me To Life [Book One] ✔️ *EDITING*

Chapter Fifty

*Not edited* Not proofread*

Chapter 50– Your phone's kinda dry:

There's a pain in my body and it's affecting every area that hasn't gone numb. It's the sort of feeling you can't really describe— that much pain you can't put into words. My bones are feeling weaker today, like they could snap at any given moment. My muscles ache and I can barely move without them screaming in protest.

"Hey, you okay?" Her voice trembles as she stands by the bars of her cell, holding onto the metal as she peaks over into my cell opposite. I can barely muster up a reply as I grunt in response to her question. Do I look okay? "They're so hard on you," she whispers, her tone soft and pitying.

My lungs burn with every breath and my throat is scratchy and raw. It hurts to swallow.

"Hopefully we'll be out of here soon," Nine tells me reassuringly. I can't keep count of the amount of times she's said that. Each day she seems to be less believing and her hope dimmers as time ticks by. They haven't quite broken her just yet, but they're not far off.

She doesn't realise that I've been here since I can remember, locked away in this cell. It's roughly six foot in height, maybe ten in width and eight in length. There's not much space, but I don't really need it. I'm always too exhausted to even stand, let alone run laps around the perimeter.

"No vas a salir de aquí," I manage to choke out. On week two, she's lasted more than some. The average is around four to six weeks, but there are a lot of people who can't handle it and are dead by the first few days. She's done alright, I suppose. Given her small height and thin frame, she's managed well. But her torture has only been mental so far, a bit of physical pain inflicted here and there, but nothing too harsh. That's not even the half of it. She's had it easy this far. She won't make it out of here alive no matter how well she's been holding up.

None of us will.

"So, seeing as we're going to be here for a while until my dad can find us, how about we get to know each other."

My English isn't the greatest and I only understand bits of her sentence, however, I gather enough to know she wants to exchange life stories. And she's still manages to keep up that stupidly hopeful facade.

I don't really have much to tell her, even if I did want to speak. I don't remember anything but waking up one day in this very cell that I'm in. I remember that when I woke up I was confused, but I couldn't recall anything from before then. Judging by the state I was in, I reckon I had already been in this cell a long time before that moment.

        I'm not too sure if my life had started in here, but I sure can't remember anything before this facility. I only really know the information that's engraved on the plaque outside my cell.

My gender: female. My age: unknown. My background: Mexican. My tag number: 001. My barcode: 0 017363 349274. That's about as good as it gets.

Other than the basics, I don't know anything. Nine says she has a name— it's a word given to you when you wake up in this world and people call you by it, but I don't have one of those, I don't think. She also keeps claiming this 'Dad' is going to come looking for her. I've heard people talking about Dad's and Mum's. From what I can work out, they're apart of what is called a family. I don't have one of those, I'm sure, and I've never really cared to find out more about the topic, because if it's not on the plaque, it's not important.