Nonconformity | Henry Creel

To be Slaughtered

He should've been here.

"Sixteen?" Six's voice called, rather loudly, in my ear. My head whipped towards her. "Can you stop that?"

"What?" I frowned, "Stop what?"

"Bouncing your knee up and down. You're shaking the table," She nodded toward my tremulous leg which was indeed shaking the table. I forced it to stop and muttered 'I'm sorry.'

"Don't apologize," She said. My gaze went back to the door. "What's wrong?"

I faced her. 'What's wrong?' What wasn't wrong? Peter might have exacted a revenge murder in my name, and I couldn't say a word about it to anyone. Six was far more trustworthy than most but, even still, I couldn't risk anything getting back to Papa.

Oh, god, but maybe I was wrong. I hoped I was wrong. What if Peter did commit the murder, but he just hadn't gotten caught as I suspected? What if he was laying low? With each muscle in my body, I clung to the idea. Dug my fingernails into it, burrowed my head into the naive, irrational possibility.

Maybe he was fine.

Probably not, though.

"We should leave," I muttered, "Like right now, we should leave."

"And go where?"

"The old staff's quarters."

"Why?"

"Because I am going to lose my fucking mind if I don't distract myself right this minute," I replied.

"Distract yourself?" Six looked hesitant, "From what?"

"Peter," I answered, "Up, up. Let's go."

"Sixteen," Six placed her hand on my arm, "I say this with so much love and respect, but you don't seem... well. Why don't we slow down and, I don't know, think it through? You can't just go on little adventures every time you're stressed out."

"Why not?" I frowned.

"Well, one, because it's not healthy... I think," She sat back, "And because someone just got murdered. There's no way Papa would let us just walk around." She did have a point in that respect. The entire lab was on high alert, going so far as to cancel lessons and enforce a strict curfew. Each patient could choose between their bedroom or the Rainbow Room for the day, and of course, most chose the latter. Every camera was powered on, silently observing every stop we took with its unrelenting metal glare. Not to mention the halls were practically crawling with guards.

"I could convince him I think," I remained standing, "You underestimate how good I am at manipulating men."

"I don't think you should brag about that."

"Too late."

"Fine," She begrudgingly rose from her chair, "But when Papa sends us right back to the Rainbow Room, don't say I didn't warn you."

I grinned and linked my arm with hers.

"I expect you to give me a lesson in manipulating men as a thank you," She muttered when I began pulling towards the door. "You're a bad influence. You know, six months ago, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing something as stupid as this. Why do I let you talk me into stuff like this? Why are you so good at it?"

"Stop asking questions," I demanded, "Just know I'm always right and I never make mistakes, okay?"

She scoffed.

We marched up to the guard blocking the door. His neck was probably the size of my thigh. A scar ran along his eyebrow and a rather mean-looking scowl twisted up his face. Nonetheless, I offered him my best attempt at a nervous smile and asked, "Hello. We were wondering if we could please speak with Papa. We're feeling really ill-at-ease and he usually coaches us through stuff like this. We'll be here and back in five minutes, I promise."