Numbers

Being In A Room Full Of Strangers Wearing Nothing But My Underwear

…“…her!” Someone yells; I decide that it’s best to stay very still and not move.

“She's awake,” A calm woman says; I open my eyes and try to sit up.  I look down and scream.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” I screech; there is a tattoo snaking up and around my left leg.  Numbers of every kind; Roman Numerals, regular, Greek and some I’ve never seen before.  It gives me a headache just looking at it.  The numbers are all different colours, but all the same sort.  Purples, indigos, violets, deep blues, black.  I frown.  All the number 9s are in red.

9.

The number that speaks of a dark secret.

My eyes narrow.  I look around; trying to work out what doesn’t feel right.  Apart from being in a room full of strangers wearing nothing but my underwear, that is.  I look down, and suddenly realise I'm already vertical.  I'm in a standing position, my wrists and ankles, strapped to the metal table that is propping me up.

“Morganna Evans?” The calm woman says my name; I look at her from under my eyelashes.  “Don’t give me that, Morganna; I know what you're thinking.” She says flatly; I scowl at her and raise my head.  I look her right in the eye.

13.

The number that tells you there’s more than meets the eye.

I narrow my eyes at her.

“What are you hiding from me?” I snarl; all my muscles lock as she takes a step towards me. 

“Morganna, the world does not revolve around you.” Another woman says.

“I think I know that,” I snarl back; the first woman glares at me and as her eyes become thunderous blue, pain stabs through my eye.  Not that I'm about to tell her that.  She steps into the light and I nearly choke.  Her eyes!  They have no irises or pupils; they are simply whites, except the whites are electric blue.  “Yes, they are a bit of an eye-sore, aren’t they?” The woman laughs coldly; I glare.

 “Now, now ladies.  Let us not be rude to Miss Evans.” The man says; I frown and look at the three of them.

“You got names?” I snarl; the man laughs and I glower at him.

“Yes, we have names.  But you should use your numbers to tell you.” He replies; I look at him through narrowed, angry eyes.

“What do you mean my numbers?” I scoff; he stares at me and I don't look away.

“Are you, or are you not an Inferciph, Morganna Evans?” He asks; I snort.

“Why the fuck would you think I’m an Inferciph?” I laugh; even though I feel slightly concerned.

“Because if you were not an Inferciph, that tattoo on your leg would have burnt you’re skin to a crisp.” He replies; I swallow and sigh.  All the tension leaves my body abruptly; I look at the woman with freaky eyes and they are pale blue.  I smile at her.

“Thank you…” I stare at her for a moment and then several numbers flash in quick succession.

9.

The number that speaks of a dark secret.

12.

The number that assures you they are trustable.

20.

The number that tells you they will always help you.

2.