The Rogue Variable

Chapter two

//Jan 2015- December 2017//

I was quite literally thrown into the slammer. Newt seemed to frown at my harassment, but he was no better five minutes ago. They locked me in yet another box, and walked away. Not even a word. The tiny window served little purpose, and the chair in the middle was horribly made, one leg taller than the other, I assumed on purpose. I was not going to sit in that chair, and risk splinters in my butt.

As if it were second nature, a plan seemed to form in my head. I pressed myself up against the wall next to the door. When they open it, they won't see me and I can bolt out. I awaited, my plan setting excitement through me. But the only time anyone came near was to slide in a plate of food, barely even opening the door a crack. Before long it was dark and realization set in. I would have to wait till morning. I slept, I don't know how, but I slept. Strange dreams of white hallways and machinery passed. I heard voices and saw people, but all were vibrations and all were faceless, a feeble reach at remembering. A sharp click pulled me out of my slumber, followed by the creak of the door. I stayed silent.

It was now.

Or never. Sunlight poured in my cell and I heard a voice sigh, "what is up with her hiding?" Newt stepped in the cell and without hesitation I barreled into his legs. He let out a shout of surprise, toppling to the ground while I bolted once more. Without barely reaching outside the cell, a strong hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me backwards. A sickening crack and a sharp pain, my shoulder had most probably been dislocated. The culprit was tall, very tall, and had large eyebrows and a potato nose. But when I looked at his eyes and he looked in mine we both were taken a back.

He was familiar. Like clearing a fogged up window, one of the faceless people from my dream weren't faceless anymore. But as quick as it came, the window fogged back over leaving me barely any time to process the quick memory relapse.

No matter what I was feeling, I had to get away. At his sudden slack of grip I pulled away, my eyes trying to adjust to my surroundings. A patch of thick trees caught the corner of my eye. Better there than here. My shoulder ached, I was right, it was dislocated. Limping to the nearest tree I began climbing, wincing in pain everytime my shoulder felt strain. I was only up to the first branch when I heard voices below. I could never survive. 60 boys lived here, they know the place inside out. My only chance were those big openings. I gave up on being silent, my goal trying to get as high as possible, maybe out cling them. The tall Asian guy crawled up the tree with ease (much to my dismay), "listen, you better cooperate because those shanks made me stay from running, to contain you," he said. Her reached for my wrist but I jumped down. He jumped down behind me and wasted no time pulling me to the ground. I screamed in pain as my shoulder slammed into the ground. He lifted the short sleeve of my black tshirt and gasped. It was purple and bruised. "What the shuck?" He murmured. Gingerly lifting me up, he called out. "get some medjacks out here she's injured," Newt and a boy came, "Jeff, get over here," Asian dude called, making the unknown boy sprint over.

"Minho, what the shuck did you do to her?" Jeff asked. "It wasn't me! I swear to God. She's the one that probably busted her shuck shoulder" he replied. Shuck? What language were they speaking?  "Who did this to you?" Jeff asked, but I didn't answer. Either I was brave enough to be defiant or so scared K couldn't find a voice, it didn't matter. The silence seemed to irritate Minho. "Did we get a mute? Well, if it's a shuck girl then we should be thankful," he retorted. Anger bubbled up as I tried to free his grip. "I'm not a mute," I spat. Newt and Minho just exchanged an unsure glance. Jeff clamped a hand on my bad shoulder, "ready?"

I nodded. He pushed back into place and I cried out. A single tear went down my face, I tried to wipe it away, but being held down didn't help. I used the shoulder of my shirt, but it was too late, they saw. I could've sworn a fleeting look of sadness passed their eyes, but it was quickly hardened. I figured for now, I would just go with them. "I won't struggle anymore," I answered hoarsely. "Why would we bloody believe that?" Newt asked. "There's 60 of you, one of me," I answered, no emotion at all. Minho let me go, his watchful eyes never leaving, and I stretched my arms.