Instability

※ 3 ※

I'm not in the helicopter anymore. I'm not even sitting upright. I blink a few times, then rub the back of my neck.

A dull throb beats in my forehead, just as confused and disoriented as I am. Black curtains cocoons the little space, and a plastic chair clarifies next to me. I peer down at my clothing, the same agency-branded jeans and polo as always.

My back presses into the dentist office lounge chair. I lift my hands to feel my forehead. Two wires stick to my temples, and two more materialize on my wrists. I know better than to pull them off. It'll only bring people into this hospital...

I blink a few more times, scanning the room again. I'm in a hospital? I'm alive? Aren't I supposed to be, like, dead or something?

It only takes a second to recall everything, beginning with the juvenile agency. My interrogation with Daniel. Walking through the Ruins. A helicopter. That weird oxygen mask with the little metal can...

I'm in a Renegade hospital. Oh, crap.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I crane my neck to view the entire room. Which curtain do I rip down first to escape? Just as I take a deep breath, to hoist myself to my feet, I hear a nearby door open and close.

Blood runs cold in my veins. Too late now.

Metal grommets screech against the curtain rod. A deep voice speaks. "Daniel, I trust that you can handle onboarding Miss Cummins?"

My mind fires a million silent insults at Daniel, but I don't move an inch. I keep my eyes slid shut and my breath as steady as a beating drum, as if I'm still asleep.

Daniel snickers, sparking flames in my gut. "You mean Agent Cummins, Sergeant." My temper burns. Stay still, Ashley, stay still.

The sergeant doesn't sound impressed. "No jokes, Fadhill. Do not touch or terrorize her, and that's a direct order."

Daniels laughs arrogantly. "I'm telling you, she was resisting!"

"We're not discussing this here, Fadhill," the sergeant says, "and you know what constitutes minimal force, both mentally and physically. One more infraction, and I will alert your father."

Daniel doesn't miss a beat. "It doesn't matter if you tell my father. Dad's in charge of all the Renegades here, and you both know I'm the best Clarifier here. He's not going to remove me from my position because of her."

Daniel says his next line like he's trying to say it under his breath. An unfiltered thought laced with poison. "I'll stop treating Cummins like a stuck-up Statie once she stops acting like one."

My temper explodes. Without thinking, I open my eyes, rip the wires off, and launch myself at Daniel, the arrogant, disgusting, despicable Renegade near the foot of my chair. I force him to the ground and punch him hard in the face. Daniel laughs as if I was tickling him. I hit him again.

I'm not a Statie. I don't make the rules or the laws. I'm just trying to be a decent interrogator to get a decent paycheck. A boy like Daniel is not going to blame me for the problems he created.

The sergeant doesn't rush to pull me off of Daniel, but he does grab me with muscular arms when I try to slip past the curtain. The two of them tackle my limbs and cart me into the hospital hallway.

The few nurses in the hall don't even bother to look in my direction. How can they be so immune to screams? Ones that rip through my throat until they scratch it dry? I have to remind myself again I'm in Renegade territory. Rules don't apply for them.

The two Renegades push swinging doors open at the end of the hall. The sergeant drops me into a chair and locks my wrists to the wooden arm.

"Sorry for picking you up," the sergeant says, towering over me, "but I'm glad you got a few punches on Fadhill. That kid is a real piece of work."