The Outliers

Detention | Chapter Two

Copyright 2014 All Rights Reserved

Detention By Claire Chilton

Chapter Two | Solitary

Carla winced at the harsh electric lighting as she slowly forced her eyes to open, fighting to wake up.

Oh crap, where am I?

She quickly sat up as her memories returned, gripping the bedframe for support when a bout of dizziness hit her. What the hell did they shoot me with? She waited until her eyes refocused before exploring her environment.

Glancing around, she found herself in a cell with uniformly cream walls and a floor covered by industrial gray linoleum. Her eyes rested on a tiny barred window. She wistfully stared at the dark night sky on the other side of the bars. I've gotta get out of here.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. It was small and hard, equipped with pillows like rocks and annoyingly itchy gray blankets.

"Home, sweet home," she muttered while she scanned the room.

No sink, no toilet and no shower. Great, what do I do if I need to pee?

She shook her head, and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she still hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

She pondered her options as she glanced at the bulky metal door. She frowned at the lock, which looked as if it had been built to last a million years. After standing up and walking over to the door, she tried to open it, but it was firmly locked. There was a small grille at face-level looking out into a cream corridor. She peered through it.

"Hello?" she called out. Nothing happened.

"Is anyone there?" she said. Her voice echoed down the corridor, but there was no reply.

She rattled the door handle, trying to get out. This is inane! Why am I locked up? After realizing that the immovable door was not going to open, she walked back over to the bed and sank onto the mattress with a sigh. How do you get attention in a crazy prison?

An idea popped into her head, and she grinned. "Any chance of some food in this bloody place?" she shouted.

Alarm bells blared loudly. Red lights flashed in the corridor, and the sound of stamping feet echoed down the hall toward her door.

She rested her hands behind her head and leaned back against the wall, feeling mildly smug. Profanity was like a call to room service.

The door shuddered when a massive bolt was drawn back. It opened, and a flashing red light glowed into the room from the corridor. Standing in the haze of a red glow was an extremely short Derobmi.

He strolled into the room, stopping beside her bed and peering down at her with narrowed eyes. He had patchy lime-green skin, which was mostly marred with acne around his chin and forehead. Small round glasses with thick black frames sat on his pointed nose, and his dirty-blond hair was wiry and slicked down with grease or something equally slimy.

His hair obviously annoyed him because he impatiently tugged on it as if making it flatter would be an improvement.

He looks like a rat.

"You have flouted our rules before you've even heard them," rat boy said. "But you will learn to understand them over time." He puffed out his chest with pompous indignation.

She narrowed her eyes at him. She had a feeling they weren't going to get on. "But I'm only here for two weeks."

"Oh, are you?" A nasty smile spread across his face.