Divided.

Divided. (Part 9)

Little Jimmy's heart was racing. He hated it when the advanced teenagers brought him to this place. It had a dreadful chemical stench that got right up his nose and sometimes made his eyes burn - when the smell was really strong. It was really strong today. So strong that it made his eyes water.

The walls were made out of limestone and the only light came from the metal caged light bulbs that were hanging down on wires from the tall ceiling and even they didnt give off much light. He never got to see what was behind the copious amount of wooden doors that lined the hallway on both sides; even though he'd been behind one himself once before. He couldn't remember what it was like; he used to spend hours a day trying to rack his brain about what happened to him as he sat huddled up on the cold concrete floor in a confined hole that he'd learnt to identify as his bedroom.

Today he'd been dropped off at the elevator doors by the malevolent teenagers and handed over to a man in a long white coat with no expression on his face and eyes almost covered over because of his long eyebrows.

The steel elevator doors had slammed shut and although there was no echo inside the lift he thought the echo must have sounded like an erupting volcano on the other.

The floor moved down taking Jimmy and the white coated man down with it, down ... down ...down until Jimmy's ears begun to ache and he had to wriggle his jaw around from side to side to ease the tension and deter the pain away. They were going down deep. It was cold but Jimmy always felt cold, just like his feet always ached when he pulled out the stones embedded in his bare feet.

His bedroom was around here somewhere, he couldn't remember where precisely, his memory had taken a hammering so repeatedly over the years he didn't know some days if he was coming or going. He couldn't remember his mum - if he had one, he couldn't picture the faces of a person he knew - if he knew anyone at all, and above all he hadn't a clue if there was anyone anywhere that even remotely cared about his childhood welfare, or dare he think it ...if anyone had ever considered loving him.

What does Jimmy know about love anyway, a childhood growing up as an animal, a former experiment, a play thing for the offspring of the persons 'in charge.' He couldn't even remember how long things had been this way.

Flicking his filthy dry hair out of his eyes he looked around and far down in to the hallway that split in two different directions at the end. The worst part about being down there had to be witnessing seeing the tribe of ill-fated workers; the advanced captives were the ones who had to work there. He didn't fully understand why they were there and what they had done so wrong but he knew it was possibly a worse fate than dying. Advanced's live slightly longer than the un-advanced's, 40 years or so; their hearts beat much slower at average about 40 beats per minute at rest.

The reason he hated the workers so much was merely because of the way they looked, their eyes ... more specifically the dark holes where their eyes used to be. Never in a million years could Jimmy imagine his life without sight. He was a juvenile boy but he never took for granted his sight. His taste buds had long gone, he had dirt in his ears but sight ... sight he still had and sight was still something they could take away from him if he kicked up a fuss. Watching a butterfly flap around was a highlight for Jimmy and if he happened to come across a stray cat in the street he'd feel as if he'd just witnessed a sleek prowling panther.

Horrendous people to look at he thought but he was still none the wiser as to how they'd come to be so unfortunate.

"Why not?" Jack whispered, "Why shouldn't I follow you?" he nodded his head towards the advanced disables toilets, "In here," he said and then pulled down hard on the light string and locked the door.