Memory

Chapter Thirty Three- Trystan

Hands shove at me, rousing me up mercilessly from my restless sleep upon the cold bed. Sunlight manages to seep into my cell through the window bars, illuminating the room. I blink open tired eyes, struggling to focus on the face before me.

Inwardly groaning at the annoying sight of Jake's highlighted handsome features, I drag myself up into a sitting position, loathing the feel of the hospital gown scratching at my skin irritably. "What do you want?" I demand him, my voice cracking from disuse. I know I must look like Godzilla right now. My hair is surely a living hell.

"Thought I just drop by and grace you with a gift," comes his soft voice. I almost sneer, but I manage to keep my cool.

"What kind of gift?" I ask him, cracking the strained bones in my neck and base of my spine.

A heap of black clothes is tossed onto my lap, and I look down at it, hands hesitant to touch it. But once I see the familiar insignia of the Survivors, I sit up straight and clutch at the clothes, holding them close to my chest. I look up at the now smiling Jake. "Where did you find these?"

He shrugs. "Some room," says Jake. He turns away and walks to the door.

"Wait!"

He stops, turning his head to me. "Yes?"

I glance down at the black clothes, then set them down on my lap, looking back up at him. "Thank you. But...why?"

He shrugs again, a small smile spreading his lips as he closes the door behind him. I wait until I can no longer see his shadow underneath the door to unfurl the clothes to see if it was damaged in any way, if anything was missing.

Surprisingly, everything is in place and nothing is missing. There isn't much on the attire to be missing. Even the pocketknife on the thigh. It's still there.

Good. It will be a vital tool to saving my life.

I take out the knife from its sheath and slip the blade underneath my pillow. I am tempted to put on the clothes. They would be so warm. The cold in this room is torture. But, I do not want to get Jake in trouble. Well, not right now, anyways.

Instead, I roll the clothes together, lift the mattress, and just tuck the bundle underneath it, sitting on the new bulge to flatten it as I lowered the mattress. Hopefully the guards don't go snooping around the room. They shouldn't suspect me of having anything.

I lower myself to the ground, gritting my teeth as the floor freezes my feet. I shake my head, standing upright and pacing back and forth, now rethinking my plan.

I won't be needing to look for the room now; Jake brought the clothes here. But, now that I think about it, why did he do it? He didn't answer my question. He probably felt a little sympathy, or guilt of scheduling my death. So he probably gave me my clothes back in a last-ditch effort to alleviate the feeling of guilt.

Or, perhaps, he has something else in mind.

No, he couldn't. He's too affiliated with the Government to even try anything crazy. So, the possibility of his help is immediately ruled out. What else could I do?

I could annoy the wardens into giving me some luxuries. Like, I don't know. A T.V or something. I spotted an outlet somewhere in this room before. If the television needs a power source, then it would probably be a cord. And cords make good weapons. So do the legs of a chair. Or my bunk bed. I'll use my knife to screw off a bar from the ladder of my bed, and just use that. Next time my warden comes to brings me something, I'll make my move.

But, I'd have to chart my location first. I remember what the warden said before. Something about Corridor fourteen. I'm guessing that is what this cell is called.