Not an Object, Not a Weapon

Chapter 1: Broken

@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*

"Get her up!" a man barks, a man whose voice I have come to familiarize myself with... and hate.

"Let her rest, she needs it," the nurse says calmly back.

"Are you refusing orders?" He raises his voice and I know this is not going anywhere pleasant, both seem to be losing their gentle side, not that he has one.

"Of course not, with all do respect, she was an absolute mess yesterday, demanding things from her today may not be the best course of action," the nurse continues to defend me which makes no sense. The leader seems to call all of the shots, and shoots those who do otherwise.

"Get her up," he grits his teeth, "I will not ask again."

"Noted," she says and before I can even open my eyes the nurse is at my side. "Darling, it is time to get up now."

"Darling, huh?" he mocks her, "reminds me of someone else," he ridicules her, "don't get too attached, especially not to this one, she will either be too weak and disposed of, or strong and do my dirty work."

"I need you to get up," the nurse repeats but is more stern. Opening my eyes, the first thing I see are her brown, round eyes that have a soft glow to them making my prediction, more accurate, that of her being a mother.

"Let's see what you can do."

I turn to face his unforgiving, unsympathetic eyes, "do?"

"We are going to push you past your breaking point."

I shake my head, "broken," rocking back and forth I try to think of another word I can add to get my point across, "already."

He leans down and kneels right beside my bed, "You see, I don't believe that, and you better not either because your life depends on it."

"Take it," I say rather boldly and for once my voice is at a normal volume.

"Now what fun would that mean?" He wears a malicious smile and I can tell that even though I am breathing, I am dead. Who I was, whoever I was, is as good as dead. He places a blindfold over my eyes to block my eyesight, probably to stop me from figuring out where I am so that I could plot an escape. He really does think of everything, unfortunately for me. Avarija takes off the blindfold and I take in my surroundings, I see knives dangling on the wall to the left of me, I see an array of swords in front of me and to the right of me there are spears, poisons of some sort and a bow and arrow. "Pick a weapon and we will put you in a simulation."

"Can't,"I shake my head.

"Will," he responds back, spitting in the process.

Hesitantly, I walk straight towards the swords and pick out the one with the most intricate design. The craftsmanship is beautiful, reminds me of flames, it is also light which means easier maneuvers which is the difference between life and death. Once the sword is comfortable in my hands, my fingers release it and I fall along with the sword. The sword bangs against the ground with a loud clash sound and I fall with a loud thud, "can't."

"No choice, pick that sword up and get your ass into the simulation."

"Can't," I say, desperation lacing through that word making it more powerful. "Painful," I say, "broken," shaking once again, my mind goes blank.

"Get your ass up!" he yells freaking me out even more.

"Problem Avarija?" A new voice enters the room. My eyes don't bother looking to see who it is.

"New recruit problems," Avarija spits at me once again, but this time I feel it on the top of my head.

"When is there not?"

"This one is bad though," he laughs at the misery I am convinced he put me through.

"Broken," I say quietly, "dislocation," my injuries pop into my head and for some reason I decide that saying them out loud is a good idea, "concussion," what else, "fracture." Shaking my head, I continue to think, "tr- tram- trauma-,  no, defeated." My body is rocking back and forth at this point. "Defeated," I start again with this, "defeated three, no... what was it? Three defeated, yeah... no... yeah." The rocking grows more frequent, "AH!" I felt a foot in my back.

"Get up and fight," Avarija orders.

"Three, defeated, three defeated... defeated.... Defeated, why? Three, one, two, three, defeated, all, three," I start rambling. My mind starts overworking again and I feel my body rocking.

"What is wrong with her?" that boy asks.

"Pick up the sword," Avarija yells and suddenly his foot makes contact with my back again. "Stand her up," he orders I am assuming the boy.

I hear footsteps coming my way, "you have to stand up."

"Take it," I say numbly, "take it all."

"I don't follow," he whispers.

"End it, please," I finally lift my head to look at him. He has jet black hair and a crooked smile. His eyes are blue and are filled with sympathy. I think he finally realizes what I am saying, "done, all done."

"No, not yet."

"Empty," I say with a shaking head, "look, hopeless."

"Not hopeless," he whispers, "potential, future."

His arms wrap underneath mine and he pulls me to my feet. Once I get steady on my feet, he bends over to pick up my sword and hands it to me.

"Away," my arms tremble, "memories... I think."

"Memories?"

"MEMORIES?" Avarija yells, he then calms himself down, slightly, "memories?"

"Maybe," I say trying to dig through my brain, "remember... no... no recollection."

"I have had enough of this, Elias, hand her the sword."

"Elias?" He nods as his hand holding the sword is brought closer and closer to my body until he places it gently in my hand.

"Let's see see what you can do," Avarija rubs his hand together in anticipation.