Souls of the Outcast

0001

Evan Kanter awoke with a start, his eyes shooting open, only to be blinded by a bright bulb hanging over his head. He winced and looked around. He was in a steel room, a roughly twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot box with a single door. No other identifying markings or patterns.

Where was he? How had he gotten here? He swung his legs over the metal slab he'd been lying on. He tried to stand up, only to fall back down into a sitting position, blood rushing to his head. He rubbed his eyes and tried to think.

He was 18 years old-he remembered that, and his name. But...what else? He tried his hardest to think back, but all that came to him was extremely hazy memories of shouting and resistance. Had he been kidnapped? He stood up again, taking his time.

Evan was an averagely built, moderately tall boy-the normal for a teenager. He looked down. He was wearing a black shirt and white shorts. He was barefoot, the metal cold against his feet. Then he noticed something on his forearm in red numbers.

0017

Confused, he scratched at the numbers. They didn't come off. His arm was sore where the numbers were. Was he tattooed? He looked at the door, walked over and pushed on it, not expecting it to open. But to his surprise, it did. He stared at the door for a few seconds, wondering if he should go out. He glanced behind him to the steel slab and lightbulb.

It's not like there's anywhere else to go, he thought.

He stepped through the doorway into a tan-bricked, circular room with tile flooring. All around him were other thick, metal doors, lined up like jail cells. He read the numbers above them displayed on a screen.

0018, 0019...

His eyes stopped at 0020-those particular numbers in bright red. He glanced above his own doorway and saw the red numbers 0017. The other numbers were black. He looked around the other side of the room.

0016, 0015...

His eyes stopped again at the door with the numbers 0015 above them. In red. Three doors were red, three were black, making six in total. Why?

"What is happening...?" Evan muttered. Across the room was another door, but this one did not have a screen projecting numbers on it. Seven, he corrected himself. He went up to the door and pushed on it. Nothing happened. He backed up and ran into it a few times. But it was no use-the door was locked and not budging.

Evan sighed and looked behind him. The only other doors were the ones with numbers on them, so he turned his head to the doors in the circular room. He walked up to the door marked 0015. There was a pull handle, so he pulled on it hoping this door wasn't locked. And it wasn't.

He stepped inside and looked around. The room looked the same as his-a metal slab, a light bulb-

Something slammed into his jaw with extreme force, and he stumbled sideways. He cursed loudly out of surprise and pain. He turned to look at what hit him, only to be rammed in the nose by something-probably what hit him the first time. He fell to the floor, holding his now- bleeding nose. Before he could get up, he was pinned down by something. No...someone. The person grabbed a fistful of Evan's shirt and drew back a fist, getting ready to strike again.

"Who are you, and what do you want?!" a voice demanded.

To Evan's surprise, the voice belonged to a girl. He groaned internally. In the first five minutes of his new memory, he'd gotten the snot beaten out of him by a girl.

"My name is Evan Kanter, and I want you to stop hitting me, please," He choked out. The girl had black hair that reached down to her shoulder blades, blue eyes and a sharp, defined face with significant Asian properties.