Final Truth

Chapter 47: That First Step

Julia's point of view:

A few days later, I find myself watching helplessly as more drops of my blood are deposited into the tank that held the once blue vial, now a violet hue from all my failures.

"This nightmare is almost over," I hear Henley mutter under her breath as she shuts the lab down, scribbling on a clipboard perhaps when my next test will be.

I am handcuffed before being taken out of the glass case, the cool metal foreign against my hands that were lit ablaze with fire from my test just moments ago. Even my most favorite power was not enough to save from failing these trials.

"I expect your friends will be coming after you soon, but you'll be done with these tests by then. You and Peter will be long dead, and your friends will suffer the same fate when they come," Henley says, trying to get a reaction as I am led out of the lab and down the hall that leads to Peter's confinement.

But she gets no such thing from me. After hearing her say things like that for so long, I've learned to let her threats roll off my back, true as they might be.

"Why are we going to see Peter?" I ask instead, my voice hoarse from all the screaming I did during the test.

"Because I want you to see something," Henley responds.

We eventually make it to the door that holds him inside that horrible little room, but instead of thrusting me inside of it, Henley takes me to the adjoining room that lets us see inside Peter's cell.

The space is dark, the only light filtering in from the transparent window that looks into Peter's side.

Henley grabs my shoulders and urges me toward the glass, forcing me to look at what was once a lively, healthy boy now turned into a shell of himself.

Peter lies on the floor of his cell, curled on his side with his knees pulled up to his chin while shivering profusely. He's layered with chains that anchor him to the ground, prohibiting him from likely moving anywhere other than where he is.

All of his clothing has been completely stripped away from him, leaving no question as to just how tortured he's been: bruises of every color litter his body, and he's lost so much weight that every bone seems to be highlighted under the sickly-colored skin, looking so prominent that they could burst from underneath it. His eyes are dead and dull, their red color no longer lit by fury and bloodlust. Very small teardrops have gathered in the corners of his eyes, right where he used to have smile-lines. Peter makes no move to wipe them away, instead just letting them roll into small puddles on the floor.

"W-when was the last time you fed him?" I ask Henley, feeling my stomach contort painfully at the sight and making me want to vomit at his expense.

Peter's head lifts slightly and his eyes seem to seek out something, almost as if he heard my voice, but he quickly sinks back down with a pained expression.

"The last time you saw him was the last time he had food," She answers tersely.

"Henley, that was days ago!" I shout at her, tearing my vision away from Peter for a split second to give her a glare that could blister paint.

She responds quickly to my outburst with a stinging slap across my face, pain prickling across my left cheek as I yelp.

"Watch your tongue," she warns me, but she's not done talking. "And haven't you noticed how he's been getting thinner each time you see him? We've only given him enough food to keep him alive, but now that your tests are nearly over, we've cut back almost entirely."