Ash and Cinder

4| The Compound

The manacles clink shut around my wrists. I wait patiently as a Whitecoat secures me to the wall of my cell. The chains are shiny replacements for the ones I broke a while back. These shackles aren't bad, actually, no scratchy rust, no bloodstains. The Redcoat finishes locking me in and gives me a small, encouraging smile. Another 'coat stands in the door, arms crossed over his chest. Normally there's only one 'coat, but the smiley one is on probation, I think. Allegedly for helping two Experiments' get married. It was a big deal, Maverick told Elle all about it and of course Elle told me a couple dozen times.

The cell door clicks shut behind the Whitecoat, cutting off light from the hall. I stretch and listen to every bone in my back pop. Today was an exhausting one but at least I got to visit Elle. It makes me antsy when I'm not allowed to see her, it feels like I'm not doing enough. Or worse, that she's faded away for good and they're not telling me because if they do, they'd have to kill me, too.

I slide my back down the wall to sit on the cold floor. A faint light from the small, barred window set in the door illuminates most of the cell. There's not much in here, just a single dresser, bolted to the floor and wall. Its drawers hold three sets of the same grey tank tops, and sweatpants, plus two sweaters for cold days. Resting on top of the dresser is a blue prescription bottle, half-full of oval pills. Savella, pain pills, for the fibromyalgia the Whitecoats triggered when they experimented on me.

They only kind of work but without them, I'd be neck-deep in agony and muscle spasms before the night is up. As if to tease me, a pinprick needles my chest. It's a bad night, then. I lean my head against the wall and squinch my eyes shut. The chains keeping me pinned to the wall are too short, I can't reach the pill bottle from here, and I can't risk getting in trouble for breaking another set of restraints. Especially not after what happened with Dieter. I suck in a huge breath, ignoring the twinge it sets off, and hold it.

Since I'm going to be curled in an agonized ball in a few hours, I might as well get some shut-eye now. I let the breath out all at once and shift to a more comfortable position. It doesn't take too long for me to drift off into a dreamless swirl of unconsciousness.

I wake up to the awful sensation of a chainsaw ripping through my chest. I gasp and make the mistake of bolting upright. Glass shards stab into my back, all along my spine, and thick hot metal bands tighten around my chest. Something akin to a white-hot iron burrows deep in my torso, and the manacles that were mere annoyances early are a sudden, bruising pressure on my wrists.

Don't fight it, don't fight it, don't fight it.

The mantra repeats in my head. The tenser I get, the worse this will be. I force my shoulders to relax, even though it puts that much more weight on my aching wrists. Sweat beads on my temples and nausea swirls at the back of my throat: Withdrawal on top of returning symptoms.

Slowly, slowly, I ease myself up to relieve some of the pressure. Despite my best efforts, the glass burrows deeper into my skin. I tip my chin up slightly, hoping that will help, and that's when I finally notice that it's no longer pitch dark in the cell. The emergency lights are on, bathing the room in an eerie blood red. Puzzled, my eyes flit to the door like it can give me answers. As if on cue it bursts open and crashes into the adjacent stone wall, and all at once an ear-piercing, keening tone floods the cell.

"Why are you still in here?" An angry Maverick storms in. He stalks over to me and makes like he's about to jerk on my chains, but his hand stops halfway, and he pulls back sharply. He must have got a wave of the pain.

"I just woke up." I have to shout to be heard above the high-pitched shriek. I clamber to my feet, grinding my teeth hard against the wave of dizzying pain that shoots from my neck right down through the soles of my feet.