Inmates: X-227

2| Oh Mighty Beast of Prey

They're waiting for me to do something.

But I don't really want to.

Unfortunately, The change between reality and medically induced sub-conscious reality is usually pretty quick. Oh, and - lucky me - it happens to be my least-hated test.

When I open my eyes to a large field of wild grass, I'm only dreading it slightly less. Small red flowers speckle the field, swaying happily in the light breeze combing its fingers through the grass. Tall dark pines circled the patch of land, straight-backed like sentinels, with each branch poised with an arsenal of needles. In the distance a grey mountain watched with a Warden grin, looming, even with its head hidden above the heavy overhang of black and blue clouds. Its job was simple enough. Easy, even. All it had to do was watch over the three things it was ordered to guard: me, the bus, and the building.

The edifice itself is tall but built to look friendly. Past the pleasant trimmings of the porch, its single door is a rich red, decorated with a flowery wreath made from the same flowers in the field. A clean welcome mat sat below it, eagerly waiting to greet its guests with painted flowers and sweet, curvy lines. The windows are wide, like curious eyes. They look kind of inviting when I squinted. The curtains inside are open, but I can't see anything past the glass. It spills a warm yellow light across the grinning potted plants and carefully cut grass at the base. When a light breeze carries from the house through the clearing, its a warm caress sliding over my arms, wrapping me in its arms like a cozy hug. But it's contact is light and teasing, and it pulls away just as quickly. Stepping back, beckoning me forward with the promise of a real hug.

You'll be safe, it promises.

The bus, on the other hand, is the definition of cold and neglected. It's rickety and old, with dented metal and scratched paint. The colors had long since faded and rust spread across the surface like a rash, slowly infecting every last inch of metal. Most of the windows are broken and the tires sagged under the weight it begrudgingly carried. A single streetlight illuminated the packed ground at its feet, sending a sickly yellow light across the slab of concrete the bus was parked by. The grass growing around it was bunched, prickly and unkempt.

It's painfully obvious how prejudice they're being today. If they wanted a real test, perhaps they should've given both choices an equal chance. I glance between the building and the bus, wondering which one I was going to choose today.

While normally I'd just pick one and be done - anything to get it over with - I wasn't really feeling it anymore. Granted, this one wasn't too bad, so long as you chose correctly. Still, I hated these tests. Every single one of them, whether it was in an isolated copse or in the middle of a city.

Yet at the same time, there was a certain freedom to them too. They may have locked me in my own head, to perform a test of their design, but this was still my space. My mind. They could manipulate the environment all they want, but at least THIS decision was my own. Besides, what are they going to do if I decide to be difficult? Making me feel pain was beginning to lose its effects. They could only hurt me so many times before it got old. Of course, they could always manipulate me into make the choice they wanted, but that defeated the purpose. They wanted me to choose the right one willingly.

But today was different. I mean, do I really have to pick one? 

I've always wondered what would happen if I didn't choose. They couldn't keep me here forever, and I already know they're too stubborn to let me win by defiance. But they weren't the only ones with a mind of their own. If there was anything Travis taught me, it was to keep a strong spirit. He said to do as the Workers said, but do it my way. Well, if the Workers wanted me to choose, then I'd choose neither. Mind made up, I plopped back down in the grass, rolling on my back to look at the cloud-contorted sky.

I held my breath and waited for something to happen.

.....and I kept waiting.

...Still waiting...

I purse my lips when nothing happens.

I'm wasn't sure what I expected. A thrash of lightning? Tree's uprooting? The grass coming alive in a living sea of clingy tentacles that drag me under? But the only difference, maybe, is the ache in my back where a rock is digging into my spine.

I wait politely, giving them a few more minutes to put something together, but the field remains as dull as the last few times I've been there.

How - almost - disappointing. Heaving a sigh, I sit back up and dig at the grass by my knees, pulling them out and letting them fall back down. Piles our gradually born, three in total. One for me, one for the bus, and one for the building.

Stop pushing their buttons, a tired thought suggests as I build up the piles. It'll only make things harder for us.

But I can't do that. Not anymore. There's a stubbornness Travis unearthed in me. It's been growing out, blade by blade, till it was a field all its own. A new unconquered piece of land that wasn't ready to be built on.

Grass is easy to pick, the tired voice sighs, worse yet, they could spray it with weed killer.

Not true, I tell it. They wouldn't want to damage the grass. They'd definitely mow it. You know, keep it small and controlled. Easy to maintain. That's what they're all about.

The tired voice has no response to that, or maybe it fell asleep. It is kind of peaceful in the clearing. You know, when you looked past the rusted, metal heap dying on my left and the wildly unorthodox house to my right. Even the breeze, warm from the house yet cool near the bus, was like two opposites mushing together, creating a levelled ground in-between. Nothing too hot and nothing too cold.

Maybe I'll fall asleep too.

Is it even possible to fall asleep in my own subconsciousness, I wonder. Would going to sleep here cancel out the drug and wake me up in the real world? I don't know much about mental science - or science in general - and the lesson's given to me by Travis don't usually cover the freaky stuff like that. But it's worth a shot anyway.

I mean, what's the worst they could do? Ground me? Hurt me? Kill the best thing in my life?

Well, jokes on them. I don't have one anymore. They made sure of that.

"Looks like we're at the crossroads," I tell my piles of grass and smash them together. "You hear that?" I shout at the sky, imagining the look of frustrated embarrassment on my Handler's face. The way her cheeks would go red as her teeth grind, hands squeezing the black-top of her tablet as her colleagues stared.

"At the crossroads," I yelled at the clouds as I lay down on the ground, using my grass piles as a makeshift pillow. "I'm laying here and I'm going to sleep. Good-bye."

But as soon as my head hits the grass, a wide spread of light sweeps across the ground as the door to the building swings open. The coils instantly tighten beneath my skin. I try to keep my back turned, to stay impassive, but it's like having a hungry, salivating beast at my neck. It's utterly terrifying, but in a way that compelled me to look anyway. To make sure it's as horrible as I'm imagining.

But as soon as I turned over though, I instantly knew it was worse.

"Really, 227?" Doctor sighed, walking toward the edge of the porch. "Do you have to make things hard?"

My nose scrunched. The fact that I can taste the death coming off him is an enormous no-no. It flicks a terrible switch in my brain, and everything goes on high alert. Sleep completely forgotten, I curled away from the house and hunched farther into the grass, hoping it might conceal me. Doctor's head tilted sideways, slightly bemused, and I figured maybe my hideout wasn't the most inspired. I dig my shaking fingers into the dirt, wishing I was something bigger. Something taller or wider, anything to give me an advantage over him.

Then maybe I'll be a wildcat, my brain decided, recalling the zoology lessons sunken deep in my mind. Travis liked wildcats. Lionesses were his favorite. He loved the way they stalked through the wild grass, muscles moving in undulated rhythms as it tracked the unfortunate prey crossing her terrain. That's what I'll be. A lioness, for him. Today, I'm the hunter and Doctor's my prey. My claws are out and my teeth are bared. The coils bunch in my limbs, ready to spring. I'll be eating well tonight.

But Doctor steps onto the first porch step and my illusion shattered under his rubber-soled slippers. The lioness tucked her tail and retreated into the wild grass with a whine.

He wasn't actually coming down here, was he?

My rib-cage creaked and my heart thumped cautiously on its bars.

"227, would you please just come to the house?" Doctor asked, moving to the second step. "We can talk in there."

No go, that's a no go. Mission abort. We can't handle this kind of confrontation. Get out of there!

Good idea. I tucked low to the ground and crawled after the great beast of prey. I have to change my huddle into a deep crouch as I slowly inch backward, to keep my eyes on him. You don't take your eyes off the threat. That's when the beast attacks. I scooted farther back. Nice and easy.

He's still waiting for an answer. When I don't offer him one right away, he lifted his leg to go down another step and terror seized my limbs.

"NO!" I shout, and he paused. He stays on the first step and waits for me to elaborate. I take a deep breath. Another deep breath. And one more just in case. I shake my head, trying to remember what he was asking again. He wants me to go in the house to talk. He wants me to obey them, and follow orders.

But I really don't want to.

"No!" I repeated, shaking my head even though he doesn't see it, "I - I won't. I WON'T! You can't make me!"

He needed to get back in that house now. Like, right now. My heart grabbed it cage and rattled the bars, hard enough that it ripples the pools above, stirring sunken thoughts. Terror is coming back. So is the fear and anxiety. It's Saturating through my skull and running down my spine, staining bone and tissue alike. It's so, so cold.

I shiver.

Why'd did Doctor have to butt in? That's not fair. There were undistinguished rules! This wasn't how the game worked.

Says the cheater who tried to go to sleep, the tired thoughts whisper over the water, and I tell them to shut up and drown.

His foot skipped past the second step and landed on the cobblestone path.

Nope!

I jumped to my feet and darted for the bus. However bad cold winds and tetanus could be, Doctor was worse. The terrain is broken and rough, and more than once I nearly tripped. Through determination and stubbornness and the constant chant, "No. No. No. No. Not happening! No! NO! NO!" I manage to keep my balance.

Despite the hidden holes and landmine-like rocks, it's harder running through than I expected. That's when I noticed the storm.

Sometime during my escape, the wind had picked up a ferocious attitude. It whipped at it's enslaved trees for allowing me to make such a terrible decision and grew long, thin arms that catch and clawed at all the nooks in my clothes. It knotted into my hair, gripped my limbs, and grabbed my neck, adamant about dragging me back to the figure at the steps. Above us, a dry arc of lightning fractured the sky and sends bursts of light brightening my way, only for a second. Not long after, a low rumble of thunder seeped through the cracks, falling from the sky like torrents of aggressive rain.

Despite the storm's attempts to keep me away, I'm getting close to the bus. Just a little more and I'll be there. But as if sensing my progress, the winds only screamed their disapproval louder and slapped me left and right. Another bolt of lightning flies by, only this one is bigger and brighter, searing a long yellow burn across the clouds that leaves a fading glow behind. The apparition hovered for several seconds before healing over.

I'm almost there. The concrete is only feet away.

The wind bellows this time, putting everything in had to get its message across. Then my foot touched the concrete. All at once, a giant crack of thunder exploded from the sky, so heavy and loud I felt it in my feet, and so powerful it shook the very winds still.

All of the sudden everything is quiet. The tree's shrink back into their miserable stations and the paralyzed wind settles heavy onto the grass, crushing the red flowers.

I hunch over, hands on my knees. My breathless gasps seem loud now that everything else was so quiet, but it's an appealing sound, so I don't stifle it. My heart is sprawled in its cage, hitting the floor erratically to call a time-out as it wheezed. I haven't run that fast for a while. My exercises with the Workers were more controlled and stemmed, just enough to keep me healthy and fit. They didn't usually push me past my limits, and the burn in my legs and chest were the result. But one look at the distance between me and Doctor, and it's all worth it. From here, he's nothing more than a long stick protruding from the porch. He's still watching, if course, but its far away enough that it makes living easier.

I'm still shaking, but I'm not sure if it's out of victory or exhaustion. I decide to go with the former. A smile poked slowly from the corners of my mouth, and I salute him. Let the war continue, for this battle is won. The day you get me in that house Doctor, is the day I forgive you for what you've done. For everything that's been done to me.

So don't go holding your breath.

Or do. Your asphyxiation wouldn't bother me either.

I look up at my rusted, dented prize. For to the victor goes the spoils. Not the most impressive piece of junk, but something akin to pride swelled in my chest anyway. I searched for the least rusted spot and gave it a gentle pat.

"I'll take this win," I tell it.

"That's not a win," someone else says and I whirl around, scrambling quickly across the concrete, almost hitting the bus. The newcomer cocks his head to the side, face lost in the shadows of a loose fitting shirt. The only indication that he's male at all is the broad width of his shoulders and the deepened pitch of his voice. The hood he wears is strikingly similar to Doctor's and I decide, right then and there, that I don't like him. I want to glare at him, punch him even, but I'm too busy prying my heart out of my throat to do either.

He stands beneath the street lamp, arms crossed and disappointed. How he managed to weave disappointment into the fabric of his shirt, I don't know.

I glance quickly left and right, but there's no one else around to explain. So, I take a courteous step forward and ask, "Yeah, and who the hell are you?"

"Hey, easy there, I'm just trying to help," he says, unfolding his arms as if to placate some sort of understanding between us, even though I don't even know him and there definitely shouldn't even be any placating. "and what you did just now, it's not a win. You're losing and you need to stop."

"Whoa, hold on a damn second," I level a hard glare at him for making me swear a second time - Travis didn't condone it, even though I've heard Workers and Fighter say them all the time - and gave him another unimpressed once over. "Okay, one, this is my medically induced brain test, so I'll decide what I'm doing wrong, thank you very much!" he backed up as I marched forward, holding out his hands as if that would keep me at an arm's length. "Two, what would you know? Why are you even here? Last I knew, the Workers stopped including other people in our tests."

I backed him off the concrete slab and into the grass.

"Look, listen to me," he tried again, "You need to stop fighting him. Doctor is trying to help you, and if you would just do as he says then you'll see-"

I wave my hands crazily, instantly cutting him off. "Oh no, no, NO! Not happening. Not in my dreams, not in his, and not in yours. This," I gestured to the grass, the bus, and the building, "is literally a test he's forcing me to do. Doctor is trapping me in with my own thoughts, and, honestly how is that helping anything? He's tormenting me is what he's doing!"

"It's not like that," the guy insisted, twisting the sleeves of his jacket in his hands as he glanced nervously at the house. "He's not the one hurting you, I promise." He keeps moving back and I follow him step for step.

"Wow, you promise? Cause I've never head that one before." I snap. "Look, dude, kid, whoever the hell you are, I don't even know you. All you've done is convince me that you're another one of his Workers, so if you don't crawl back into whatever dark, slimy hole you came from I'm gonna throw you into my bus and give you tetanus! And THEN I'm gonna-" we were a third of the way past the grassy field before I stopped.

My threat hung brokenly from my lip as my jaw dropped, realizing he had been leading me back toward the house. I look quickly between him and the building - where Doctor was nowhere to be seen. "Oh, you sneaky son of a bitch!" A fourth time. I'm sorry Travis.

He shrugs, almost apologetically, and his anxious demeanor vanished. "Come on, I had to try something," he says, and I surged forward. He halts me with outstretched hands, "Okay, I know this looks bad, but it seemed like the best approach to keep you...calm?..." he scratched the nape of his neck. "Calm-ish. But it didn't quite go according to plan, I see that now. Let's try again."

"No," I spit. "Bad plan. Very bad plan." It doesn't matter what shape, size, or form they come in. Workers are Workers, and if they're under Doctor's orders, then it just means they're that much worse.

The guy has his hands out again as if to parley a conversation - like we're a pair of civil folk. But, unluckily for him, I've been known to be anything but civil.

It was probably stupid to attack a Worker sent by Doctor, but it's a minor thought as I dig my heel into the mushy dirt and lunge at him. If I can't get Doctor, at least I can have this one.

The guy sees me coming but doesn't run or dodge. In fact, beneath the shadow casting half of his face, I'd say he was a little irritated. He flicked his wrist, just slightly, and suddenly he's gone and I'm falling face first onto the porch steps. For a second I'm frozen in shock, trying to comprehend what the frick just happened. I looked up quickly, notice the red door, and scrambled away.

I bungle off of the small stone path and into the comforting sea of grass, my heart pounding so hard it echoed in my ears. my ribs pushed in tightly, my lungs squeezed together, and it's getting harder to breathe. I'm shaking again, my bones are rattling, and I dig my fingers into the dirt to ground myself.

It's okay. It's okay. I'm okay. Just - just stop. I hold my breath, before letting it out slowly again. It takes several breaths, and several long minutes before everything starts to resettle again.

It takes an embarrassingly long time before I noticed that the hoodie-guy was crouched next to me.

I blinked.

"Look, I know about Travis," he rushed out, and everything uproots again. Only this time it's different. I'm shaking, but its not from terror. It's from something a little warmer, a little hotter, that melts away the ice crusting my joints.

He continued, unbeknownst, "What happened to him was terrible, I'll admit it. But, it wasn't Doctors fault. Travis had to go. He was doing terrible thin-" and that was all he managed to get out before I tackled him. We hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of the both of us. But within our flailing, struggling limbs, I managed to gain leverage and straddled his lower back, pushing his face into the dirt.

"Don't you dare!" I scream at him, the grip on his neck tightening. "Travis DIDN'T deserve that! He - he -" my arms tremble and my voice cracked, "He didn't deserve that."

The guy flails a little and spits up dirt, but when he tried to turn his head I push it farther into the ground. His hood is up and I can see his face now. Blonde hair, narrow face, pinched eyes, freckles on his nose.

My voice is shaking when I continue. "Don't ever talk about Travis again. EVER. He was my friend! He...he was -" I'm not ready to go there. "How - how did you do that? Yo-you teleported me over here. How'd you do it?"

He rolled his eyes once, blew out a long, exasperated breath, and suddenly he's gone again and I fall forward. This time he's on the porch.

I release the strangling grass in my hand, and slowly stand up too. He lets his hood stay down this time, while his hands cut the air in a frustrated manner.

"Look, I don't have a lot of time," he snapped, glancing at the door over his shoulder. "If you would just stop and listen to me, we could have this all sorted out already."

"I don't listen to people who get their orders from Doctor," I yell, shaking my head to elaborate my distaste.

Hoodie-guy cupped his hands and his pretense of a negotiator lifted as he mimicked strangling me. "Ooooh, why are you so annoying? Hell! He said you'd be hard to work with, but I didn't think it would be like this!"

"He as in Doctor," I accuse, "See, THAT'S the problem here."

Hoodie-guy muttered something intelligible and ran a hand violently through his hair. For a moment, I'm certain he's going to jump from the porch and wring my neck for real, but he slowly exhaled instead, and all aggression melted off his frame.

"Okay," he decided slowly, "we're going to start this over, really quick," and cleared his throat. "My name is Cho Baek Hyeon, and you are gonna listen. And no, I don't care if you want to or not," he quickly added before I can swear at him again. "Cause this is for your own good. I promise things will get better if you just give me five minutes," there's a sudden noise behind the door and he winced, "Okay, make that three."

The door rattled again and I step back, looking between him and the house. I don't care about what he has to say. I don't want to listen. Besides, what silver words could possibly be hiding on his tongue that could make living in the same building with Doctor better? They were nothing but empty, hollow letters, devoid of a steady structure. How could I trust something so faulty?

"Doctor is not trying to hurt you," the guy says, wringing his sleeves through his hands again as his eyes crept back to the door. "He's only trying to help. You have to listen to him. I know it sounds crazy, cause it seems like everything he does is to make life hell, but it's not."

Empty and hollow.

I shake my head.

"You're a liar," I decided with a growl, trying not to let it show how my heart spiked with each rattle of the doorknob. "He's not trying to help cause all he does is HURT! Why do you think they make the house look so enticing? Why do you think that doormat is so clean? Because no one goes there. Nobody wants to go into that stupid, inconvenient house."

"Nothing good can come from there," I continued spitefully. "He's not my friend, and don't think for a second that you are either. You're just trying to trick me again. And I don't care how many times you-you poof away or zap me closer, I won't go into that house!"

His fiddling fingers lost their energy and for several seconds we stare at each other. Then his shoulders slumped. "You're not going to believe anything I say, are you?" He comes to the conclusion with a sigh and turned around wailfully. "Then...well, I guess you'll just have to figure it out on your own. But don't say I didn't try to help." He grabbed the doorknob and swung it open. I peek over his shoulder, but there's nothing interesting inside. Nothing but a warm, friendly looking entryway, with a coat-rack, a potted plant in the corner, and tiled floors.

His foot stepped on the tile, but he turns briefly and added, "See you around then, 227," and walked inside. The door swings shut. The only thing left of Cho is the two dirty footprints stamped on the welcome mat.

I'm granted a short minute to stare at the red door before the ground upheaves and I'm thrown into the dirt. The forest begins swirling, the way it might when someone stirs a pot. The tree's bend over themselves, roots ripping from the ground, while the grass and flowers shrivel into dead husks that crumble to the dirt. My junkyard prize doesn't even put up a decent fight when it flakes into a mound of rust. The house, on the other hand, stands strong and untarnished longer than the rest. I know it's just to rub it in my face. But soon enough, even its foundations began to quake.

To my joy, the house begins to crumble too.

I don't get to watch its complete degeneration though. I get distracted by the deterioration of my own hands. Piece by piece I'm eaten away. It's a painless process and probably my favorite part of any of the tests. Here, everything is in chaos. Everything is falling apart. There's an uncanny tranquility in it, watching the world crumble happen without feeling the need to panic. I remembered the first time I experienced it, I had nightmares for a long time. I'd dreamt that I ceased to exist entirely, constantly fearing the moment when I would flake away like everything else. A lost speckle of dust for the wind to snatch up.

Now though, I welcomed the world falling apart at the seams. I embraced the moment when I get to fade away and be forgotten. Away from Doctor, Workers, Fighters, and tests.

How freeing it was.

Until traitorous thoughts float to the surface, like bubbles, popping ostentatiously in my head. Doctor's waiting on the other side, they say. And he won't be pleased.

I swallowed thickly, but my legs are already gone so there was no running away this time.

"Let's go say hi then," I try to growl, strong like the roar of a lioness, but it comes out as a whimper. Which also makes me angrier.

Why? Why can't I be strong?

Just this once.

Instead, I'm falling apart. My torso and chest are gone. Then my throat, then my jaw. My vision is the last to go, and then there's nothing.