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Present time
“So you said this is world wide, right?” Xavier had his hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee, little waves of bitter deliciousness evaporating into the air.
“Yup.”
“Then we could find a place that’s high enough to send radio waves to broadcast why the war should be stopped and there are other ways to set women free that isn’t through violence and death.”
It was actually a pretty solid idea, with how we can control the waves now. It could work pretty well. Which is why I had to knock it down to little specks of dust.
“Ah, no. Too many loopholes.” It’s been an hour since we arrived to Xavier’s apartment. He made coffee for himself while I marveled about ways I could leave this peace-seeking man on his own.
So far, I had nothing.
But I let him ramble on and on, idea after idea until I did come up with something. But it was close to midnight and I was getting antsy.
“Well, uh…” Xavier scrunched up his face in concentration. His eyebrows knitted together and wrinkles developed on his forehead. “What-”
I interrupted him with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow. “We aren’t going to figure this out in one night.” I shrugged my shoulders back into the leather couch. “Plus your ideas are getting pretty sloppy.” I was aiming to find his weak spot, but insults weren’t it. He just shook his head and slapped the heel of his palm into his forehead.
“Right, right. We better get some sleep.” He got up and walked across the pristine carpet that put to shame the cleanest of pearls. Xavier set the mug on the counter top that separated the living room from the kitchen with a half wall of elegant smooth black tiles and marble countertop. He walked back across the living room and disappeared into a room that branched off a hall to the left of the kitchen. I took the time to examine the chances of escape through any windows, and came up clean.
Xavier appeared with a giant blanket in his arms and a down pillow. He tossed it at me, hitting me with the pillow square in the face. My short cut hair fell forward in layered strands, standing up in different angles with static. “get as comfortable as you can.” He walked away and turned off the light with the switch near the hallway.
I glared into the night, angrily fluttering the blanket around my body. I threw the pillow behind my head and let my body fall against it. I turned to the side and let the cool leather press lightly to my back.
It didn’t take long for me to topple to the ground.
The muffled sound of my “Shit!” echoed after the Xavier’s stifled laugh. Chafed, I flung my hair back and fixed the blanket around my body. I grabbed the soft pillow that managed to somehow stay on the couch and pressed it against the carpet. I rested my head on it, and closed my eyes. Xavier’s laugh still rung in the dark, a deep sound that pounded against my eardrums, no matter how much distance there was between it and myself.
“Asshole,” I muttered. I let my body relax against the carpet, and as sleep gathered me in its thick black arms, Xavier’s laugh died out, replaced by a bloodcurdling scream.
~*~*~
My back was pressed against the yellowed wall of the operation room. My throat grew dry with every scream that I emitted from my lungs, praying that someone would come to the rescue. Scream after scream, tears collected at the corners of my eyes and my body shook with every second that the truth hammered my thoughts.
No one will come. No one ever did.
The tall built figure stood across the metal table, just five feet away. He had pieces of my grey uniform in each of his big calloused hands, fingers tight against the rough material. His face was beet red, anger disfiguring his scarred face. Blood ran off his chin, and his swollen nose was an array of purple, blue and red. Scratch marks lined his cheeks and blood oozed from them.
“Damn it! Hold still, you worthless piece of shit!” He thundered, and stampeded over to me. I screamed and crawled to my feet. I raced to the window, ignoring the pain of my obviously sprained ankle. I pounded my bruised fists against the bulletproof window hoping that anyone from the street would look up, would be my prince charming.
Prince charming.
He didn’t exist, only heartless animals did, that was proven to me every week on Wednesdays at noon. But that little child in me couldn’t stop the dreams that came to me when I wasn’t having a nightmare, on the blessed nights that I could fantasize about a different world. I couldn’t help the daydreams that invaded my thoughts while I ate the half cooked meals given in the facility.
Tight arms wrenched me from the window and threw me on the metal table. My head ricocheted and I could feel my bones grind against the cold table. I had my eyes squeezed shut, but with the sudden impact they popped open. A wail tried to force its way out of my throat, but nothing came out. My mouth was agape and tears streamed in, salty and bitter. I could see the vainglorious look on the mans‘ face, his blue eyes sparkling with the anticipated success.
He had my arms pinned down with his own, then climbed on and held down my flailing legs with his knees.
“Now now, it’ll be over in the blink of an eye.” An apathetic look crossed his thin lips and wide set eyes. I closed my eyes again while he tore off the rest of my uniform.
I whimpered while he moaned, I cried while he laughed. It felt like an eternity, the pain and the dejection.
After what he thought was necessary, the man climbed off the metal table and zipped up. He came over to me, I could feel the vibrations of his heavy footsteps rattle the table. He backhand slapped me, knocking my head to the other side. My hair, matted with sweat and tears, slapped my numb cheek.
“Next time,” he whispered, acid dripping onto my face with his spit ate through my nerves. “Don’t be such a bitch. Or I won’t be as generous.” He smiled and forced a kiss to my lips, opening my mouth with his hand. I let his get halfway to the door before I threw the scalpel that I grabbed when he was getting ready to the hollow where the back of his neck connected to his head. He stopped dead in his tracks, dropping first to his knees then on his face. I was glad for the aim training my mother put me through. Achingly, I put on my destroyed uniform, letting it hang at odd angles, and having to tie parts of it back together.
Slowly, I limped over to him, favoring my hurt ankle. I pulled the scalpel from his neck and flipped him over, grinding my teeth together against the pain in my hands. He was taking in hallow breath.
He was still alive. Perfect.
“Now now,” I mocked. I knelt next to him and pressed the scalpel into his left hand. Covering his hand with mine, I placed the scalpel right over his heart. “It’ll be over in the blink of an eye.” I applied all the force in my body to plunge the scalpel into his heart, wedging it between the bones of his ribcage.
Despite the fact that I just murdered one of the guards, the facility manager couldn’t kill me. I was valued, if you can call it that. I was healthy and strong. They need me to make more of them.
I reached for his master card and swiped it across the slot, opening the door. I left the guard right where he was, let some one else discover him. I hid the card in my bra and limped back to my cell, knowing two things: one, I had just made history, and; two, I’d need this card in the future.
~*~*~
“Damn it, wake up. Wake up already!” Strong hands shook my shoulders violently, and a voice sounded annoyed and tired. Groggily, I opened my eyes and franticly fluttered my eyelashes against the sudden light.
“Huh…”
“Will you shut the hell up?” Xavier had his head dipped low close to my own, and his breath still smelled of mint. His harsh whisper brushed against my face, galled and slightly disgusted. I sat up then, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palm drowsily. I risked a look to Xavier. Instantly, I wished I hadn’t. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, and I could practically see smoke rising from his ears. His hair was messy and stuck out at odd angles. After he dropped my shoulders, his hands turned to fists to the sides of his knees. He leaned his body back against the balls of his feet, visibly trying to calm down. “People are going to…” His voiced cracked under the weight of his anger, and Xavier started again. “People are going to know about you!”
“Why?”
“Why? Why?! You were screaming and punching anything you could reach, and you ask me why?”
You don’t know anything, I wanted to scream, I wanted him to go through the pain I had, to understand it. Maybe then he could judge me.
But instead I didn’t respond, just let a single tear drip down my face. Flash back after flash back, tears streamed down my face, flowing freely like a flooding river. It was the only sign of my weakness, of my scars. I held my eyes on a cold stare just beyond Xavier’s head, and my lips a straight line. I had my jaw clenched, slightly grinding together. Yet the bitter tears fell as though nothing mattered, like it was okay to show my true feelings to the enemy.
Xavier’s face changed quickly from anger to confusion to a pained pity. Slowly, he lifted his hands to my face, and stroked away the tears with both his thumbs. His hands were gentle around my face, Like I was something that could turn to dust with the slightly movement. But I wasn’t. His eyes were kind, and he genuinely wanted to help, I knew that. I guess that’s what pissed me off most. I didn’t need his pity, and much less did I want it. I’ve lived eighteen years relying on myself and my strengths. I used my weaknesses to grow stronger yet, not to gain the empathy and charity of others.
I grabbed his thumbs in both my hands, and flipped them back towards his wrists. I held them there, slowly applying pressure with my index finger. “Don’t you ever touch me again. I don’t need your pity, nor do I want it.” Xavier’s upper lip twitched in either surprise, pain, or both. He yanked his hands away and folded them over his chest. He fixed his feet to sit crisscross on the carpet directly in front of me. Xavier just stared, waiting, waiting, for something, but what?
“Apologize.”
“What?”
“Apologize,” Xavier demanded again, this time enunciating each syllable slowly.
I raised an eyebrow, slightly annoyed and also sort of… entertained. “For?”
“Tricking me then almost breaking my thumbs.”
“What?” I knew my facial expression looked disgusted. Who the hell did this man think he was to be demanding me to apologize for self-defense?
“Apologize. Now.” Silence. “I’m waiting.”
“No.” I kept my face blank, then threw myself down and covered my body and head with the blanket- not once forgetting to keep myself poised and ready all the while looking relaxed. “Night."
"I'm not dealing with this, I'm more civilized." Xavier ended on a note like he wanted to add more to his comment, but instead patted back to his bedroom. I could hear Xavier grumble incoherent words under his breath, creating a soft melody with the muted thud of his feet hitting the carpet.
~*~*~
Pure sunlight filtered in through the window and threaded through the blanket, small patches warming my skin where the sunlight reached. My back ached slightly from sleeping on the floor, and my right arm was numb from supporting the weight of my head throughout the rest of the night. I folded the blanket to my waist, and crossed my arms behind my head, breathing in the clean smell of fresh air.
Alright, it’s decided. Mornings are so much better now. That was the thought that kept ringing in my head until I realized that I was in a mans’ home, and I was without weapons. I decided to listen for any activity that may sound like it could put in me in a dangerous situation, like me mother taught me years ago. After staring that the ceiling for a while and straining my ears, an idea struck me. It was perfect. I shot up from my position on the floor, a wave of dizziness almost knocking me back down to the ground. I ran around to the kitchen, where I could hear Xavier cooking.
“Xavier! Xav-” I stopped short, just in front of the half wall counter. A huge machine, the color of stainless steel and black licorice stood on the marble counter in high glory. Water bubbled at the top and trailed through a black part in the machine, then in a glass vial trickled down black steaming liquid, gathering slowly.
“Xavier… the hell is that?”
“Uh…” Xavier turned around, a grey spatula in hand. His face contorted with an expression possibly trying to decipher if what I was asking was a trick question or not. “A coffee maker…?” He said it carefully, wondering if I was playing a mental game with him
“Really?” I touched the glass vial with the tip of my two fingers. It singed the tip of them, and I yanked my hand away, flicking my fingers up and down to cool them down. I glanced up at Xavier to find that he was now leaning his hands behind him against the edge of the stove. His eyebrows were raised and the corner of his lips turned up slightly. “Well, whatever. I thought of something.”
“Something as in…”
“As in something that could help us!”
“Alright,” Xavier turned back around to grab a plate full of bacon and an egg sunny-side up. He set it down on the table adjacent to the counter and sat. “So spill.” I sat across from him, my voice low.
“But first I need to know that you won’t turn me in when we get there,” I said bluntly, not wanting to say anything before I knew I was going to get what I needed.
“I won’t.” Xavier looked bored as he said it, carrying on with his breakfast.
“I can read people, Xavier. I know when someone lies,” I hissed, leaning forward on the table with my elbows. I looked directly into Xavier eyes, looking for any flinching or excessive blinking that might give him away. He didn’t do anything except for a flash of slight anger that crossed his eyes. Good, at least I knew I was getting through.
“It’s too late to hand you off to the authority without getting myself in trouble too.” Xavier took a bite, swallowed. “It’s suicide.”
He made a good point there, but I wasn’t still very sure about it. Better safe than sorry, right? “How do I know that what you’re saying isn‘t just a trap?”
“Because as hard as I try to cover up my tracks, they‘ll figure out that I gave you a shelter and say that I’m conspiring with you or something stupid like that.”
I nodded, seeing the truth behind his words.
“So what were you going to tell me?”
“We go back to the facility.”
Xavier choked on his bacon, coughing up pieces that were till in his mouth. His eyes popped out of their sockets, and his fork fell into the plate, the metal clinging with the china.
“Weren’t you just having a nightmare about that place like, not even five hours ago?”
“But we could get information! Creator, she didn’t share everything with all the women. Only two other people knew exactly what she was going to do, and those were Organizer and Finder. I don’t know everything.”
“I’m lost. Explain.”
“Creator, she made the plan, laid it out, created it. Se nurtured it until she knew it was ready. Organizer and Finder helped with that. Organizer connected the missing link, and told everyone their place in the plan. Finder collected outside information, to make sure everything outside the facility was in order.”
“And you were…”
“An eighteen year old who they couldn’t trust to keep her mouth shut long enough. You with me or what?”
Xavier looked unsure to trust me. I could almost see they gears turning in his head, mauling over his choices. Slowly, he nodded, a determined look concrete on his face. “Then it’s settled. We leave when it starts getting dark, right before the operation room closes.”
Xavier looked like he was about to protest, but instead whispered “Want some duct tape?”
~*~*~
Now standing in the darkening light of the setting sun, I began to feel queasy. I was wearing a loose graphic shirt and rough jeans. The material scratched at my thighs as I walked up the huge cracked concrete steps. My sneakers slapped the cold floor in a melancholy melody. I froze at the main doors, half tempted to turn and sprint all the way back. I took a step back and felt my back crash against Xavier’s hard chest. He nudged me forward, whispering in my ear, “Your idea. Now go. I’ll wait out here.” I hesitated before nodding my head. Xavier reached out from behind me, his arm brushing my side. His pressed his thumb to a small scanner to the right of the door knob.
A mechanic man’s voice welcomed him. “Good day, Mr. Xavier Flior.” The door opened with a small clicking noise, and Xavier turned the knob and pushed me in.
“Don't get us killed,” was his encouragement. The door closed behind me, harshly cutting off the only source of clean air. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the urge to choke and gag at the strong smell of chlorine bleach and misery. My steps echoed off the tiled walls, shaking my head to bring forward as much hair as I could to hide behind. My hands were stuffed in my pockets and I walked lazily, as Xavier advised. I threw my shoulders back had my head cocked to a small angle and forced a tiny smile on my lips.
I was at the end of the hallway, and looked around. Five staircases branched off in a dome formation, each leading to a different building of the facility. I head to the second to last staircase that lead to Building D. I climbed the stairs, slowly growing confidence in my strides. The staircase ended and so did my aplomb in my plan.
The echo of hushed whispers ran from the wall ways that branched off the main hall. I passed each one, counting them off in my head. Section one… Section Two… Section Three…
I passed the hallway that lead to Section Six and slowed my steps down. Just five feet ahead was the place I was kept caged in every day. Just four feet ahead was the place that gave me nightmares. Just three feet ahead was the place that scarred my memories. Just two feet ahead… just one foot…
I stepped into the hall and listened to the hushed conversations.
“…And then the hero rose from the ground, elegance and determination in the strides…”
“…No, sweetie, you have to wait to go tomorrow…”
And then…
“ Mommy, tell me that story again.”
“Ok.” She paused then began whispering again, gentle and loving. “Once upon a time, a strong fighter was born in a time of pain and anger. Her people were locked up by the time she was born, and every day she whispered vows of freedom to them all. But she was small, what did they believe? As she grew older, our warrior grew stronger and smarter yet. She rose against the enemies, and almost made it. She almost set her people free.” The mother paused, when her voice cracked. I was still pressed against the wall, willing her to proceed. I tried to swallow past rough lumps in my throat. A few women had quieted down, shushing their children and I could see little chubby hands wrap around the bars, the grime in their nails matching the black iron bars.
“But she failed. She was ripped away from her mother, and from the people she swore to save. She was sent to a different place of captivity, and all hope was lost in a sea of misery. But our fighter did not rest. You see my dearest child, she wanted to help everyone, to save all the babies like you. She wanted to let you see real sunlight, so she fought. She wanted to keep babies like you happy, and safe and healthy, so she fought. But alas, it has been many months since our heroine has last been heard of, many months and our faith has faltered, the once bright light of hope dimming with each passing hour.” Slowly, the woman in the farther cells began to tell the tale of the brave adventurer, weaving in different times and mythical creatures to keep the children entertained. Their hushed voices made a single tear spill from my eyes and drip into my slightly parted mouth, my heart beating against my chest. I was never told this tale, and half my heart was pained because of it, and the other was pained because I didn’t want to keep hearing it, in fear of a terrible ending. If it ever came.
“But darling, I know in my heart that she is out there, our strong fighter and savior. I know that she will take many bad people down, and stand triumphant outside. She will run place to place, letting them out and telling them it’s okay, that they were free. I know that she had to leave, that she had to go out and make us proud. And one day, when it’s all over, she’ll come back to me and say, ‘See, I told you it would be okay. I told you I could do it.’” The story always ended the same, with the heroine always glorious and victorious and conquering, no matter in what age the story was told or in what era. More tears streamed down my face and I took in a shaky breath. It was ragged, and it was too loud to my ears. I couldn’t let them know I was there, not yet. I want to hear the rest. “She holds the light, sweetie. She holds the light of a brilliant future, a scorching fire that will burn away the atrocious and dire past.”
“Momma?”
“Yes, Ally?” It was the first time the mother had mentioned the girls’ name, and knowing it made me feel ever more weak. Ally. Sweet, innocent Ally. I could imagine little Ally, with bouncing curls framing her face and hiding her ear. A delicate nose, and big bright eyes that held hope and faith.
“Will she, Momma?” There was no answered, and the little girl multiplied the volume of her voice. “Will she come momma? Will she save us?” Her voice wasn’t the only thing fortified, but also the pain the question brought upon the women. A few wept silently. I leaned out, to look into the cells. Those that didn’t weep dry-sobbed, heaving in and out deep gasps of air, their eyes squeezed shut. Others clutched at the rough fabric covering their hearts, and just let the tears stream down, dripping soundlessly from their chins. My throat clogged, and I stifled a hard sob myself. I leaned my head back against the wall, thanking God almighty for the lack of cameras in this part of the facility.
“Maybe baby girl. Just maybe.”
It was after I blinked back the burning tears that threatened to spill that I gathered up my courage and walked to where the cells were. The women froze, all staring at me and whispering beneath their breaths. I reached the cell that was previously my own.
The grey wall that was behind the bunk beds was decorated with elegant lines that curved in and out, up and down, swishing to the left and swiping to the right. It was a symbol for hope. The wall across from the bars was decorated with less graceful lines, filled with jagged edges and crisscrossed segments. This was the symbol for protection. The other wall was half blank and half filled with spidery lines, and dust gathered at the cold floor. They weaved in deep to the wall, and sometimes flowed out to the surface, lightly grazing the wall with elegance and beauty. It was a symbol I had not seen yet before, and curiosity stuck me hard. The artist froze then stood, dropping her smuggled knife to her bench then came. Her companion followed her, her dirty blonde hair glinted in the pale light of the bulb with grease and oil, and her face was set in a hard expression. And bruised.
“Finder,” I whispered to the artist. She gave her head a strong nod, her frizzy brown hair dropping forward. I then turned my head to the other woman. “Organizer,” I acknowledged. She also greeted me with the same formal nod.
A guard passed, his heels clicking on the floor. I backed away from the bars, and pushed my hands back in my pockets. “Everything alright, Mr. Flior?”
I didn’t turn around, just nodded my head. I waited until the clicking of his heels died down before returning to my place at the bars.
The women nodded heir heads once again in acknowledgement and in unison greeted me.
“Creator.”