Chapter 5

I wake up to exploding pain. I gasp with the shock of it. I get hurt all the time at Wordsworth Institute for Girls (WIG for short), but I never felt pain like this before. I don’t think that there was anything at the boarding school that could hurt me that much. So how on earth did I get this injury?

I open my eyes and find myself in a room looking much like the hospital ward at school. But I soon notice the major differences. One, Mrs. Patrick, the nurse, isn’t there fussing over me. Two, I am lying on an uncomfortable hospital bed, unlike the plush mattresses with soft cotton sheets. Three, the room I am in looks cold unlike the homey feel of the nurse’s office.

A wave of realization hits me. Memories of the last few days sweep over me. Running away, the cage, the diner, the gun, Cole. I moan. All of you people who say that your life sucks: have you ever escaped from a boarding school, woken up in a cage, realized your parents aren’t even really your parents, gotten shot, then deserted, and now this? What ever this is! I think not. Your life is looking pretty good right now doesn’t it? I’m just hoping mine improves from here on out. Why do I have the feeling that it won’t?

The door to the room opened. “Good you’re awake.” A voice comes from that direction. My day just got better. Yay!

“ Good for who? It certainly isn’t good for you.” I respond, recovering slightly from my pity-party.

A guy in a white coat with a clipboard under one arm laughs. About what? What did I say that was so funny? These people have a weird sense of humor. That or they’re insane. Or they have a weird sense of humor because they are insane.

“ So, Leesha. Lets see what you can do.“ He knew my name. Oh, god. He knows my name!

If he thinks that I’m gonna just go along and do what he says he’s got another thing coming. He obliviously hasn’t heard of my rebel streak. I don’t often do what I’m told. More like never, much to the irritation of my teachers at WIG.

I cross my arms in front of my chest, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as I do so, and glower at him. “You forget that I’m also a man-eating predator.”

He laughs again. Does he have a death wish? Because I’m perfectly happy to fulfill that desire.

“Hate to brake it to ya, Hun, but I’m perfectly safe. You can’t hurt me.”

“That’s what you think,” I say in the most menacing voice I can muster.

The guy looks scared for a split second then covers it with laughter. I am seriously starting to hate this guy’s laugh. He’s making me mad now. Who does he think he is, treating me this way? I am a person. I have feelings. I growl in frustration.

           

            I wait forever and a day for him to come back and tell me what they are going to do with me. The whole time I look for escape routes. There is none, of course. That would simply be too easy.

            So, said a little voice in my head says, now what? Well I have no freaking clue.

            That’s when the door opens again. Lab-coat-guy is back.

            “Are you ready to do what I say?” He asks patiently, like he has all the time in the world. Talk about annoying.

            “Do pigs fly?” I ask in an innocent voice.

            “I promise, we’re working on it,” he says with a crocked smile. Ugh.

            This guy is definitely getting on my nerves. ”But I still won’t do what you want.”

He glares at me. “Fine. Then just answer one question. I know you were traveling with a boy named Cole. Where is he?”

            “I don’t know.” I say, startled into the truth. The sadness I feel caught me off guard.

“Then we’ll have to torture it out of you.” Fun guy right? I wonder how well that will work considering I. Don’t. Know. As I’ve already told him. Not that I expected him to believe me, but I was hoping.

Instead of telling him this, I say, “Have fun with that.”  His face twists with frustration. Now I am getting on his nerves. Payback.