Burning Day

Chapter 3

The next morning, I was woken by a rifle jamming into my ribs.

"Wake up," a voice snarled as my side roared with pain. "Wake up, Subject 23!"

I twisted as my eyes adjusted to the light and was able to make out a man's figure standing over me.

A Keeper.

He grasped my wrist and wrenched me out of bed, sending me crashing head-first to the floor. "You've been assigned Kitchen Duty this morning."

My brain throbbed as I attempted to stand, but it still froze on his words. I wasn't scheduled for Kitchen Duty until next cycle.

That was Gwen's job...

The Keeper, irritated by my hesitation, grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled me toward the door, but I didn't care about my stinging scalp, not with the sheer panic electrifying my blood. As the soldier fished his ID out of his pocket, I managed to twist toward her bed, desperate for even the slightest glimpse.

My heart shattered when I saw Gwen's bed empty, her sheets dangling off the top bunk.

My stomach heaved, and it took every ounce of my strength not to crumble into tears.

She was all I had left, and now even she was gone.

My legs dissolved to jelly as the Keeper scanned his ID against the door's lock and yanked it open.

Gwen's empty bunk was the only thing I saw as the door swung shut.

I was dragged down the halls, but was unaware. Gwen was taken. Pain riddled through my veins as the Keeper turned the last corner and opened the door to the kitchen. He shoved me inside, and I fell to my knees as the door slammed shut. The kitchen's metallic appliances reflected my anguished expression as I tried gathering myself.

But I couldn't.

Sitting on my knees, face buried in my hands, I dissolved into sobs.

I knew I'd be punished if I didn't start my duties, but God, I couldn't stop crying.

The Ungifteds couldn't stop, could they? They had to keep taking and taking from me, even when I didn't have anything to give. I hated them—every single one.

And it was in part for that reason I was so desperate for my Gift, that I stayed awake at night almost imagining symptoms. So I could take that final step away from the Ungifteds, so I never had anything in common with those monsters again.

So I never had to feel ashamed of what I was again.

It was only when a small hand rested on my shoulder that I managed to take in a breath. I raised my head to see Subject 37 staring down at me, thick brows furrowed in concern. The pink kidney-shaped birthmark at the corner of her mouth, at odds with her dark complexion, downturned with her frown. "Are you okay?"

37's black wiry hair puffed around her head like a cloud, framing her heart-shaped face and doe-like eyes. Her pigeon-toed legs bent so she met my eye level.

I shook my head. "No...it's Gwen, she's—"

"Gone," she finished, barely above a whisper.

I gulped and nodded. "We should...we should start cleaning."

But for the life of me, I couldn't get up.

Sorrow washing over her face, 37 bent down and put an arm under each of my armpits. She was an entire head shorter than me and only twelve, but managed to haul me to my feet. I was afraid I'd collapse again, but 37 kept a firm grip on my shoulders as she led me to the kitchen sink.