Nonconformity | Henry Creel

War

I slapped her hand away, "I take it back, I didn't miss you."

"Then I take back my forgiveness."

"Oh, fuck."

"Okay, jokes aside," She rescinded her hand and her smile disappeared, "You don't have to tell my anything right now. Especially not with,--" She looked away and locked eyes with Four, who continued with her staring, "--These two leering at us. Maybe we can skip lessons tomorrow? We could go to the kitchen and steal sodas."

"Soda?" I frowned.

"How do you not know what soda is?" She demanded, "You lived in the outside world your entire life, right? I mean, I know you're probably not allowed to talk about it, but even I've had soda. That's saying... a lot."

"Maybe I did. But then I had a seizure and now I don't remember shit."

"That's... weird," She sat back and crossed her arms. I nodded. "Soda is a type of drink. It's bubbly and if you drink it too fast it makes you burp and your tongue feel weird."

"That sounds really unpleasant."

"Oh, it's not. You'll like it. I don't remember much from my childhood, either, to be honest. Not because I had a seizure, just because I was super medicated. I think." She shrugged. I hadn't really thought about what it was like to spend your entire like in a place like this. To never, ever see anything besides the same tiled walls and dreary lighting. What had she endured in her childhood to make her memories so scattered?

"That's very worrying, actually," I frowned.

"Oh, I know." She opened her mouth as though she wanted to continue, but then her face fell. Her eyes latched onto something behind me, "So what Peter did was really bad, right?"

"I would say so. Why are you changing the subject?"

"Would you be upset if I told you he's walking over right now?" Her eyes met mine and my heart dropped. It then occurred to me that avoiding Peter would only work if he, too, wanted to avoid me. I assumed he would.

"You're joking," I frowned, "Tell me you're joking right now."

"Not joking."

"Okay, uh," My eyes darted across her face, and then over the table, "On the count of three, I stand up and you take your chair and smash it over my head until I'm dead." She nodded. "Okay, one... two...--."

"Good morning, girls."

My gaze fell to my lap.

Peter's voice washed over me. I used to love the sensation, but now it just like lava running down my back, eating away at skin and bone. No, no, no, no. He should've left us alone. Didn't he know we didn't want him here? Didn't he know all the grief he'd caused? He knew better. He was smarter than that. He should have known better.

My mind rambled on, picking up thoughts and discarding them like candy wrappers. Getting up that morning had been nearly impossible, but I persevered partly because I was convinced I wouldn't have to do this today. Wouldn't have to see Peter and pretend to maintain the slightest bit of composure.

"For some of us," came Six's voice, pulling me out of my mind for the second time that day. She wore a sickeningly sweet smile when she replied to Peter, but her words were angry. She didn't even have to know the situation to be on my side. I mouthed a 'thank you.'

"I need to have a word with Number Sixteen. Do you mind?" He asked, polite as ever. He stood directly behind me, which was a blessing in one way, because he couldn't see the grimace that ran across my face. Yes, we mind. Yes, we mind so much it fucking hurts. The thought of having to speak to him made the metal links crawl along my veins, cutting through tissue all over again. Just when they had begun shrinking away, he managed to coax them back. My fingernails bit into the palm of my hand as I tried to hold myself together.