And So It Begins Again

Albus Part 4

It is 23:27. Five hours and eleven minutes since I rubbed my temple. One hour and twenty-seven minutes since lights-out. I lie in the darkness, my ears straining to pick up any sound. Two minutes later, I hear it.

It is only the soft swish of a cloak on the floor that alerts me to the man's presence. "Tonight," he whispers into my ear, his breath warm against the side of my head. I'm not sure when he leaves again, but when he does, he makes not a single sound.

Seven minutes later, I hear a click. My door is unlocked. I cautiously swing my legs onto the ground. No headache.

The signs had been subtle at first. Fake smiles held in place, weird glances cast my way when people thought I wasn't looking. The handleless doors I couldn't open. But the final piece that clicked in place that told me something was off was when I finally figured at the pattern for my headaches.

Anytime I did something that I wasn't exactly supposed to do, like veering off course during our morning run, or trying to sneak another bread roll, or trying to get out of bed after lights-out, I would get hit by a crippling headache that stole my breath and left my writhing on the ground in pain. Most of the time I blacked out and woke up to doctors looking down at me, helping me up. That's why I chose to believe the figure that appeared to me that night on my drill. I knew something was off, something they weren't telling me. They told me the headaches were my memories trying to restore themselves; the headaches were the chain attached to my shackles.

In my head, I let out a sigh of relief. Having placed my gear exactly where I knew I could find it before lights-out earlier, I quickly located my weapons, clothing, and shoes. I walk through the now unblocked doorway.

The hallway is dimly lit by glowing red lights spaced three meters from each other on the ceiling. I notice the prone body of a sentry robot that usually patrols around the hall lying on the floor.

Stepping over the robot, I quickly make my way through the building that I know like the back of my hand. I take the turns with confidence and speed. Within five minutes, I am at the door that leads outside. Unlike the rest of the doors, this one has a handle. I reach out to turn the handle. The moment my hand comes in contact with the metal, a headache crashes through my head, worse than any I've experienced. I black out.