Straight through the Heart

Chapter 22

For the first time in a while, I wake up feeling well rested. For a moment, I forget my troubles . Then, I can feel the soreness in my body seep in and the aches that won't be soothed over a night's rest. I glance to the foot of my bed and see a fitted black long sleeve and stretchy pants. A pair of combat boots rest on top of the clothing. I briefly clean up before donning on the clothes. As soon as I finish lacing up my boots, the door to my prison cell opens. 

Two different guards appear at the front. They stand stoically together as they wait for me to walk between them. I glance at their marble features and wonder how many pairs of guard Barsetti has. Perhaps he has figured out how to perfect humanoid robots because his guards appear more and more like robots. 

As we enter yet another different corridor, I eye the clean, white walls. My surroundings have drastically changed since the cell. It feels as though I am in a different building altogether. 

There are grunts and screams which echo the corridor. I gulp as the sounds grow louder as we walk further down the corridor. We eventually approach a wall lined with large window panels. Each panel show individual training rooms as we pass them. I am unable to study the rooms for very long but I see some intriguing things such as a young girl aiming at a moving target with two guns in her hands. I'm surprised at this skill and accuracy she has for someone so young. Two adults dressed in a white lab coats examine the girl as they write down notes onto a clipboard. 

 Some of the doors have small windows to gaze in rather than its large window panels. We walk past the row of doors and approach a pair of swinging double doors. 

The noise has escalated as I hear the familiar thuds and grunts of fists connecting with something. I glance shocked at the rather large training arena. Individuals of all ages but similar fitness train rigorously. There are young children doing flips on the maps and into a foam pit off to the left corner. There are sparring matches in the other corner. To my left, a group of people my age are throwing their choice of weapon against targets of certain distances. 

I try to take everything in as much as possible. I try to gather intel on the individuals and burn their faces into my brain. It's quite difficult since my brain has taken quite the beating in the past few weeks. 

I do notice that they all don the same attire as me. I don't know if that is to my advantage or not.  The guards usher me towards a female turned away from us. There's something familiar about her long, wavy blonde hair. My stomach clenches in a nervous manner as we go closer to her. She senses our presence and turns around.

"Amber." I whisper, shocked. "But you..." died. Obviously, she's very alive as she stands two feet away looking fit as a fiddle. She wears the same clothes as I do. A flicker of hope forms within me as I cling onto the notion that she was kidnapped just like me, that she almost died but Barsetti took her and brought her back to health. 

The smirk on her face shatters that hope. 

"Died?" She laughs her familiar laughter, making me remember all those times we joked together as best friends, as roommates. 

"A little bit of fake blood and expert special effects makeup artists can go a long way." She grins and shrugs. 

"You...you're working with them? With Barsetti?"  The last part I say aloud despite the fact nobody has confirmed anything about him yet. 

She rolls her eyes at me. "No, I was kidnapped and tortured. Now, I have Stockholm syndrome and this is my home."

I almost believe her.

"You probably spent too long in that cell of yours." She mutters as a side note. "I'll take her. You guys can go." She tells the guards, who leave her. She must be someone of power.