Chapter 1

I blink in the darkness, looking around the small room. It’s bare, with just a small, rickety bed on one wall. The walls are a plain, murky grey colour. My home. That’s all there is. And here I am, curled up in the corner of the room, dirty and scruffy and exhausted.

There’s a quiet hissing sound, too familiar. It immediately causes tension throughout my body, my limbs stiff and my stomach flipping uncomfortably. No. Please no. The faint gas starts to leak into the room. There’s nowhere for me to go. Nowhere to escape. There’s nothing to do but brace myself. It doesn’t make it easier.

The sound of sobbing is awful. It’s a sound that haunts me. But I just can’t stop myself. It’s one thousand times better than the silence that swallows me when the sobbing isn’t here. The awful torture comes regularly �" not that I could tell you the time, all time is darkness here. There is no clock, no window and no way for me to stay in my head.

Although, that’s the point of this. To get in my head. To test me. To push me to my limits. Well, it’s a success. They’re in my head. All the time. I can’t get away from them, and I can never get away from myself. I’ve lost. Game over; it was their game anyway. Their rules. I was always playing blind.

‘Psst!’ I gasp for breaths through my sobs, the tears streaming down my eternally wet face, my eyes bloodshot and red, sore from overuse. ‘Psst! Hey, it’s me!’ a voice hisses from the darkness. “Me” is my only friend in this place. He’s got my back �" well, as much as one can in a place like this. This awful, dark hole that I’ve been confined to. Cal is the one person I can trust. He’s the only person who sees me as a person and not a test dummy.

I curl up tighter in the corner of my room. I hug my knees tightly to my chest and bury my head in them. Not that it helps, the gas is everywhere. It’s a part of my being. I can’t escape the way I feel when it’s here. I can’t escape the overwhelming pain and sadness. The excruciating torture. It never goes away. They’ve damaged me completely. This is who I am now.

‘Hey, it’s ok! I’m here.’ He says softly. ‘I’m here for you.’ I swallow hard, trying to even out my breathing. More gas fills the room, undoing my attempts at sanity. I sob more, clinging to myself and wishing for this nightmare to end.

‘Mr White, what are you doing here?’ asks a stern, sterile voice. ‘Ma’am was requesting you.’

‘Yes sir, I was just passing.’ Cal answers dishonestly. ‘I thought I saw a malfunction, but nothing came of it. I’ll be off to Ma’am.’ He walks away. I can hear his footsteps echoing around the empty, sparkling white marble hallway. The further away he gets, the easier it is for the gas to eat away at me. He’s all I need and he’s always too far away. So close, but so far.

‘013. Room to be cleared for mealtime.’ The bland voice says monotonously into the speaker outside my room. The room must be decontaminated before anyone enters. Can’t have anyone else affected like I am. How would they explain that? Sorry, we accidentally ruined your family member. Oopsie.

There’s a whirring sound, and the faint gas begins to dissipate back the way it came. The mechanism clears the room of the fumes, regularly checking the state of the oxygen remaining until the little mechanic brain is satisfied that, at long last, it’s clean. This only happens three times a day �" breakfast, lunch and dinner. Never is the oxygen so breathable as when someone else must enter the room. Never is it so clean and fresh.

Finally, there’s a small click and a clunk and a door opens to my right. It’s expertly hidden in the wall, only becoming apparent when they open it, which is rare. A figure in a sterile hazmat suit walks into the room, pushing a tray. He stops a few feet away from me, retracting his arms from the clean metal frame.

‘013, food has now been delivered.’ He states simply. ‘Any remaining scraps will be collected in an hour. Please be finished by that time.’ he then turns and leaves the room, the door closing behind him. The clicks and clunks resound, reminding me that I’m locked in this room.

I pounce on the tray the second his footsteps are silent. I’m ravenous. The last time I was fed seems like centuries ago. When my gaze lands on the tray, however, any shreds of happiness immediately dissolve. Bread. Water. Cheese. Nothing of any substance. My treat? Two single squares of chocolate.

Despite this, I tear into the bread, ramming as much as I can manage into my mouth. I’m like an animal, starved and exhausted. I rip the cheese apart, stuffing it in alongside the bread. Each mouthful feels like it’s long overdue, and before long the food has all gone. I pop the cap off the water and down it in one, a few drops escaping my mouth and scattering my dress with spots. I wipe the liquid from my face with the back of my hand, dropping the bottle back onto the tray. I look at the chocolate. I should save it. Treasure it. I know that it’s not certain that I’ll ever see it again, but..

And then it’s gone. The tray is empty. All happiness gone.

There’s another voice outside my door. Earlier than usual after a meal. I know they’re watching me. They’re always watching me. They must be. They know everything.

‘013 for retrieval.’ The door grunts out its usual song as it opens, and another hazmat suit appears. ‘013 has been requested.’ The feminine, flat voice informs me from within the impenetrable material.

I rise from where I’m crouched on the grubby floor. There’s no point in arguing. I’ll be going whether I decide to or not. This is the most interaction I’ll have in a long time, I can’t turn it down. I walk towards the hazmat and she steps aside, letting me through. When I step into the spotless white hallway, there are three more hazmats waiting for me.

‘013 is in transit.’ Hazmat two says randomly. They always do this. I guess they have little telephones in their suits. They always know what’s going on. I walk down the hallway, surrounded by white suits. The marble is cool and polished smooth. It feels nice after my rough, uncared for little room.

My footsteps sound much more personal. Their boots clomp, but I focus on the sound of flesh touching ground. I am human. They are machines, draining the life out of me. I’m real and they are created. They are developed to become life-sucking leeches. I am real. I am human. If I keep repeating it then it might become true. I might finally feel like more than an empty shell again. Not that I can ever remember it being different than this. Than me like this.

‘013.’ Hazmat one brings me back to attention. I look at the sight in front of me. This again.

There’s a glass door in front of me. The hissing sound of water, and the sight of the shower raining down. Steam rises from inside. Lots of steam. I know before I even step inside that it’s blistering hot water. I stare at it silently.

‘You have five minutes 013.’ Hazmat one informs me.

Five minutes to make the choice. Do I get into the scalding water and shower, or do I stay dirty? What it comes down to, is how bad has my time been? How awful is my mood?

‘013.’ Hazmat two demands.

Make your choice, 013. I take a deep breath, reaching down to pull the basic white dress from my body. There’s another already waiting for me when I get out. I drop my underwear and take a deep breath, before stepping inside. I yelp in pain as the water burns my skin on contact, just like I knew it would. The water drenches my hair, giving the impression of clean �" but of course, it’s not. It never is. I turn towards the stream and cry out as the front of my body burns. The pain is unbearable. I take deep breaths, as if it would change a thing. Just keep breathing.

And then the water shuts off. That’s my cue to get out. A towel is handed to me and I dry my burning body, wincing in pain and attempting to keep my breath steady. I pull on the new set of clothes, identical to the last set, and we’re on the move again.

‘013 in transit once again.’ Hazmat one announces. On the way back, I slip, falling to my butt on the floor. I smash my head against the marble and shriek in pain.

‘Kaia!’ Cal is crouched above me, his beautiful sky-blue eyes full of worry. ‘Kaia are you ok? Are you bleeding? You look-’ he stops himself as he realises what’s going on. ‘You went for a shower, didn’t you?’ he helps me to sit up and I wince at his hand on my back. ‘Kaia, why do you take the shower? You know it’s going to hurt and you do it anyway. Kaia!’

Of course I know it’s going to hurt. That’s the point. I know that and they know that. We all know what game they’re playing. But they know that I’m going to play it. They pretend like I have a choice in the matter. Like each option isn’t as hellish as the last. This sick game is theirs to make the rules and watch while I suffer.

‘You don’t have to do this.’ His soft voice pleads as his eyes hold mine. They’re the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen. But I can never tell the difference between the colour, and the love they hold for me. Maybe that’s why I believe they’re so beautiful. Crazy. Absolutely, totally, completely insane, but beautiful.

Author's Note

So I'm still kind of figuring out what this story is and where it's going, but any constructive criticism, general comments or advice would be appreciated!