evanna
"Tell me what you see."
"I see the city. I see a boy... who's just killed a man." The sight of the blood turning pink in the snow makes a feeling of satisfaction settle down within me.
"And what does that make you feel?"
I pick up the sound of a pen sliding wetly over a notebook, hurried yet steady. I feel exactly the same way, because the woman in the room with me is a pawn in my game, not the other way round.
"I think that he must be eliminated," I answer calmly.
"Do you understand why?" The light patter of the soles of her shoes against the glass floor ceases as she sits down quietly, crossing her legs in an elegant fashion.
"Because murderers disturb the peace of Tetrahmon." The video clip that's been on a loop ever since I've put on these glasses pauses. I close my eyes for a brief moment and lean back in my seat, my hands folded in my lap, my tattoo visible in bold ink. They made us roll our sleeves up.
"And do you know that they are the reason the Wall had to be built?"
"I do." Of course I do: it was meant to keep me out, and it failed. I should applaud Malcolm on her choice of material and quality of her workmen.
A hand gesture directs my attention to a medical bed in the corner of the room. "Please lie down." I do as I'm told. "Are you aware of Project Chrysalis?" She asks, taking my tech glasses from me.
"I am."
"What do you know about it?" Julian has warned me well enough; these compulsory appointments are simply to test our loyalty to the State. It's not quite what I need, but it's necessary. Bernard has declared it part of my training to obey every future announcement. So see I am, in the Medical bureau, listening to this moron prattling on with ridiculous questions.
"Only what was stated in the announcement."
"Do you understand that any following procedures will be linked to Project Chrysalis and will therefore be beneficial to us, as a State?" What, you want me to be your lab rat again? No thanks.
Smiling, I turn my head to her, my hair rustling against the pillow, and give a subtle inclination of my head. "Of course."
When I'm asked to recite my number, I don't hesitate. "7037Z." The soft beeping of a finger hitting a digital key on a tablet ensues, multiple times, as she keys in my digits and letter. I expect the frown, I expect the befuddled tone as she sets the tablet down and repeats my number to me. In the end I show her my forearm, tired of having to repeat the digits over and over again before she ignores the fact that my number isn't present in any of the database files of the Medical bureau. She's making me a 'new' file, and I'm almost flattered.
"Project Chrysalis is the future of Tetr-"
"So I've heard," I drawl. I allow her to continue: she appears a little rustled. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut. But then again, I like doing things the fun way.
"The future of Tetrahmon," she picks up again, smoothing down the white apron that's fastened over her grey uniform. "It is truly a gift from the President," she continues, pulling on gloves on a rather dramatic fashion. I hear the smack of the latex against skin as she pulls them on tightly.
"May I inquire-"
"You may."
"What is it, exactly, what you'll be doing whilst I'm here?" I ask innocently. My eyes flicker over to the side. She's holding a syringe between forefinger and middle finger, the pad of the thumb on the piston.
A false, practiced smile, the sort you'd see on a little girl's doll, plasters itself on her face. "Just a few blood tests, and an injection for the beginning of Project Chrysalis."
I nod. "What's in the injection?"
"The formula," she answers simply. I don't question her any more, knowing I'll be putting myself at too much risk if I do so. This girl is young and naïve: this job is probably her first, so it won't take me long to gain control over the situation.
The blood tests might be a problem: as of now, I'm not entirely sure I have blood of normal colour: either way, I can't risk a single cell or microscopic section of my DNA being left here. And an injection of Project Chrysalis wouldn't be great either.
I feel a soft pressure in the dip of my inner arm as I feel her wipe the skin their with a swab dipped in ethanol for sterilisation. I remember how it felt... cold, back when I was a child and they were taking blood tests- no.
No, not now. No memories, but work.
She adjusts the pressure band she'd fitted to my upper arm, and brings the needle in close, as I grin up at her. "You know," I say, "I really don't like needles."
"Just focus on s-" I cut off her sentence as I smack my fist into her hand: the syringe goes flying, smashes against the glass wall, and I feel the little bones on her hand crack underneath the force of my hit. She lets out the beginning of a twisted, tortured, painful shriek: and then she's choking as I wind the cord of measuring tape she's so helpfully left unrolled atop her desk around her neck, pulling her in tightly and twisting the cord around.
It digs into the flesh of her neck so much that soon the little millimetre stripes are obscured. I drop her as she loses consciousness, grab the bag I came with as I pull a pair of latex examination gloves on. I go through the stocks, take a sample of every injection prepared for analysis or determination back at the Red Hand: I take a syringe, sweep my fingers over the bottles of chemicals at the bottom tray of the cart, examining each one. Most of them are anasthaesias, others... well, they take the concept of beauty sleep to an extreme.
Grinning, I fill up a syringe with one of the more potent chemicals, and kneel beside the nurse, who's just choked back to life. She looks terrified, and I revel in the expression. "Now," I say, giving the syringe a little squirt as my other hand pulls the measuring tape from around her neck, revealing red friction marks, "allow me to explain myself." I dig one knee into her throat so she can't make any sound.
"I know you want to live, but I just can't left that happen. See, you now know too much, and believe me, where you're going'll be better than this place, anyways, hm?" I press the tip of the needle into the spot where I can feel the pulse of her jugular. "You know what's in here?" I ask, sinking the needle into her skin. I feel the slight change as I push it through the artery wall. "Cyanide*. That's right, cyanide. CN. I wonder why you even keep it here; I thought the medical bureau was for saving people, not killing them."
Shrugging, I stand back up, watching her torso rise and fall jerkily, her body moving grotesquely on the floor. I stuff the measuring tape into my bag, zip it up, use her fingerprint to unlock her tablet, deleting the file she's made on me.
"Good night, sleep tight. And have fun trying to breathe," I smirk. With that, I walk from the room, dusting my hands off on my clothes.
*Cyanide: a type of poison that causes near-immediate death by blocking oxygen from binding to red blood cells, therefore causing rapid organ and tissue failure, and, ultimately, death.
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a/n: so, here's your new weekly chapter! Don't forget to vote and comment on your thoughts, and who knows? People who support Shiver a ton get dedications.
Have any of your views on Evanna changed? I'm interested in hearing your responses.
Have an awesome week, and thank you for sticking around with me!
the song at the top is the lyric video for alive by sia <3