Cheerios

Surveillance

Andrew ran as fast as he could down the hall, trying to get as far away from those horrible images as he could. He didn't want to think about them, but he couldn't help it. They wouldn't go away. He stopped running and started banging his head into the wall. It hurt, oh how it hurt, but the pain helped distract him from the images. He kept slamming his head into the wall.
*THUD*
He could see his blood stain spots on the wall.
*THUD*
He felt two pairs of arms grab his shoulders. Pained screams escaped his throat as hot tears ran down his face. He kicked and flailed, trying to escape from the men's tight grip. They threw him in a room with padded white walls and slammed the door, a click following it.
Andrew stumbled to a corner of the room, falling down and letting out shaky, ragged breaths. His heart pounded in his ears, his forehead throbbing from where he had banged it against the wall. He slammed a hand against it as he sobbed into his other elbow, a mess of tears and snot.
—————————————————
A woman with red hair hunched over, staring at the computer screen in front of her and scrunching her nose.
"Ugh," she said in a disgusted voice. "Have a little dignity, would you?"
"Hey, don't be so hard on him, Claire," a skinny man with a clipboard said from behind her in a quiet voice. "Things like that, they're hard for people to see,"
"Oh, shut up, Marc," she barked. "You always were a wimp,"
Marcus only sighed in response and clicked his pen.
"So how long's he gonna stay in there?"
"Until he calms down, might take a while," Claire said, pulling a chair in front of the screen and plopping down. Marcus looked at the sobbing boy on the screen with pity in his eyes, but he knew better than to say anything about it in front of his older sister.
Claire rested her feet on the desk, leaning back in the squeaky rolling chair and watching the screen. She let out an exasperated sigh, fidgeting with the key around her neck.
"Why'd we get stuck with this stupid job, anyways? It's so boring,"
"Well it's better than the job we had before this." Marcus shuddered as he sat criss-crossed on the floor. "Those poor kids.."
"If you wanna work here you can't be so soft," Claire cut him off, rolling her eyes.
"You seriously think I wanna work here? I'm only in this hellhole because it's the only way I can get money in this bullshit city,"
"Would you shut the hell up," Claire hissed. "They might hear you,"
Marcus looked down at his clipboard, shocked at himself for blowing up like that. He pushed his red, curly hair back with a sweaty hand and sighed as Andrew screamed and begged for them not to hurt him.
About an hour later, Andrew finally stopped screaming. Marcus stood up and walked over to the monitor, hunching over it. Staring at Number 832.
—————————————————
Andrew leans against the wall, his knees tucked into his chest, whimpering. He stared at the ground, trying to think of something, anything besides the pictures the man had put in his brain. But as soon as a decent thought came into his mind, it was immediately rejected and replaced by the pictures. Tears of frustration rolled down his face and dripped down his lips and neck. He looked at the ceiling, pulling his hair and quietly sobbing. That's when he noticed it.
A camera.
There was a camera in the corner of the room on the ceiling.
He stood up, stumbling a little, towards the camera.
"Help," he said hoarsely, his throat scratchy from all the screaming. "Please help me."
—————————————————
Marcus stared at the boy, in shock. He looked around his age, maybe a few years younger. Strands of messy, dark brown hair stuck to the sweat and blood on his forehead. His pale grey eyes were red from crying, and most of his face below them was wet from tears.
Marcus gasped at the sight of him, which caused Claire to stop snoring. Marcus held his breath mentally cursing himself for making noise. She resumed after a few seconds. He breathed a (quiet) sigh of relief as he backed away from the monitor. Claire had always been a heavy sleeper. He looked at the corner of the monitor.
"Room 27Z," he whispered to himself. His eyes drifted to the key around his sister's neck, which had '27Z' engraved into it. He slowly pulled the string over her head and grasped the key in one hand. He tiptoed to the door and quietly opened it, stepping out and looking behind him.
"Sorry, Claire," he whispered as he closed the door.
Marcus felt his heartbeat pounding in his throat. He'd never broken the rules once all his life, but there was something about that kid he just couldn't put his finger on. Soft footsteps echoed down the white hallway as he nervously shoved the key in his pocket. He stopped in front of an elevator and pressed the button. His heart basically leapt out of his chest when he saw a man with a black suit and an electric collar standing inside.
He tried his best to not look suspicious, nodding to the man and stepping inside. He pressed the letter 'Z', which was at the very top of the row of buttons. He balled his hands in and out of fists as the elevator went up.
"So, where ya headed?" the man said, his hands behind his back.
"Oh, erm," Marcus stumbled on the words. "Just checking on someone,"
"Mind if I ask who?" the man looked at Marcus, who's face was undeniably red.
"Number." he swallowed. "Number 832,"
"Ah, heard he caused a bit of trouble this morning. He learned his lesson though," the man chuckled.
"Haha, yeah." the elevator doors opened and Marcus basically fell out and quickly walked away without looking back.
"Huh, weird kid." the man said as the doors closed.