What if...? Book One, Part 1: Neverland (A Peter Pan rewrite by Jae)

7-Twice (continued)...

"Tisk, tisk, Jane. What was your plan?"

I glare up at Tris.

"Make it passed the side doors? What about the fifteen foot electric fence around the perimeter, hm?"

"You've got lipstick on your teeth," my breath struggled under the male nurse on top of me.

"Two weeks. In the box." she says looking down at me.

"No. Tris that's too long, she-" Charlotte starts.

"She will have a usual punishment just as anyone else would," Tris cuts her off with a rising voice.

Her eyes go back to me, she's enjoying me on the floor.

"But-,"

"It's alright, Charlotte. I have friends waiting for me in there," I say to her.

Tris snaps her fingers at me and the guards at the door pull out a white pouch that I know too well.

"Hey. Hey, no, Tris, you don't have to do that." I plead to her, looking back and forth from her to the opening pouch, "Come on, I'm not fighting. Tris!" I shout louder as she walks away.

The guard steps to me. The pouch is opened, its contents pieced together.

"No, no, no, you don't have to do this. You don't have to-"I fight now away from them, "no, no!" I'm crying now as the needle digs into the back of my neck.

Charlotte looks away as the guards sit me up and push my head forward to stick the needle in my skin. I feel the cold liquid spread from my neck to my spine. Too soon it's in my head, my eyes spotting with black circles, and I fall into the guard's arms.

- - - - - – - - - - - - - - - - – - - - - -

When I come to a small light hanging above my small bed swings slightly high above. I turn my stiff neck to recognize where I am. The box. Solitary. A tiny metal toilet with a sink attached to the top of it sits in the corner. And that's it.

The door is thick and only has a small opening for trays of food to be sent through. I know a small vent sits on the wall under the bed that I lay on. The only other characteristic of the room would be a sky light, high above in the ceiling. The light bulb sways and will flicker off when the timer goes off, indicating it's daytime. Sun light will be my only source of light through that small skylight until dusk breaks and the light bulb flicks back on. I grunt and sit up, shaking away the lingering medication fatiguing me. They must've thrown on the thin bed in anger with the way the back of my head aches. Quick movements are a dizzying factor thanks to the poison trying to leave my blood. There's an itchy emotion that longs for me to open the window for air, but it's too high. I suppose that's the point of it.

Two weeks.

I've done longer. A whole month one time last year. I had been stashing doses, claiming I never received my dailies and building an inventory to sell to other girls. Tris was livid when I was caught with far too much of our currency in here. It was heard that she was demoted or something similar, something bad enough to make her rage incredibly so. Enough so, that I lost the few human rights I had left. My birthday passed in this box, as it will again this year. My tally marks for every last minute of being 16 are still behind the bed frame, I'm sure. I kept such special track for when we turn 18, extra treatments are added to our narrow window of effective dose from lethal dose. And I know Tris has been dying to see me try to handle another treatment.

Experimenting is all medical practice. Their new 'medication' is only successful through sacrificed inmates, which comes in waves. When they discover a new solution they'd like to test, they choose one of us to take the leap of faith. By law we are only supposed to get a maximum of 4 treatments, or experiments, before we are in lethal danger. No more until we turn 18, for when we reach that age, apparently we become invincible adults that can handle chemical torture. They give us as many treatments as they want when we reach what they call maturity.