“Taylor?”
My voice cracks, hands trembling from last night’s transformation. The physicality of me remains the same, but my mind and senses change…as if I were still turning. Still, every night, the same---over and over again. Leaning against my cell door, I wonder if I will ever be normal again, completely human. What am I? I cannot tell you this; there is not an answer, not yet. The door in the hallway buzzes, like usual, the latch releases. Same sound, day after day. They are coming for me, Taylor is gone, and I am next.
Looking to my left, thinking I see a shadow move, maybe Taylor is there after all. “Taylor!” I hiss. “What’s with the silent treatment all of a sudden?” A hint of disgust rolls off my tongue. Footsteps bound toward my cell. Panic rises in the pit of my stomach.
A female voice echoes across the empty space between me and the prison guard. “Lara, it is time to go, move to the center of the room so that I can see you.” Her key jangles at the lock, I push my body further into the corner, into the darkest area of my cell.
“What are they going to do to me?” I say harshly.
The brute woman steps into my cell, staring down at me. “They will do what they must, to make sure the rest of us are not in harm’s way,” she says. “Now, get up and place your hands against the wall.” I stand, my eyes level with her shoulders, and she is larger than a usual woman.
Standing and turning around, I place my forehead against the wall, hands pressed tightly onto its surface. The guard’s knee presses into the space behind my own knee, collapsing me further against the wall.
I keep telling myself to follow orders, to behave, soon I will be free.
I’m escorted down the familiar corridor, the same hands grabbing for me, calling after me. The restraints around my wrist are too tight, digging into my flesh. Gradually my skin tears away, old wounds bleed again. It is daytime and I do not crave its taste right now. All I crave is freedom.
Florescent lights beam above my head, rows of them paving the long path that seems to never end. Another guard approaches, pulling something over my head. I am swallowed in its darkness; the fabric is etched so closely, that no light dares penetrate through. My palms feel sweaty and the beating of my heart quickens. What feels like forever, of being led to an unknown place, to an unknown demise; they stop me from walking any further.
Hands press down on my shoulders, forcing me to sit down on a cool metal chair. Maybe they plan to shoot me while blinded from my captors. They might not want me to look in their eyes as they kill me, rid me of this hell on earth. I breathe heavy against the thick fabric bag, my breath is hot and trapped. The warmth crawls up my cheeks and swirls around my eyes. It is so damn hot, so hot that sweat accumulates all over my face. Blinking away the sweaty tears, the hood is ripped away from my head.
“Hello Lara, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
I blink, staring at the man seated across from me. Something is strangely familiar about his face, but I can’t quite figure it out.
He leans forward on his desk. “Don’t be shy, let us be acquainted.” The man looks up at the guard’s, then points at my restraints. “Release her immediately,” he says with authority.
The two guard’s fumble down near my wrists, finally unshackling them, I pull them in front of me onto my lap. Red ringlets wrap around each wrist, burning tremendously from the skin being rubbed away. Looking up from my wrists, I stare straight ahead into his eyes.
“What do you want from me?” I lean forward, slamming my fists onto the top of his desk. The guard’s pull me back into the chair again.
He grins, leaning back into his chair, as if he were attempting a larger distance between us both. Watching him open a vanilla colored folder, he flips through the pages diligently. His eyes flickering up at me occasionally, I sneer and look away.
“Lara, going through your records, I notice you are quite different than the rest,” he says matter-of-factly.
Looking back into his aged eyes, he pulls his body forward into my gaze. “What do you mean that I’m different?”
“What I mean is that you haven’t seen these so called, Children of Darkness…”
Thinking silently, I remember Taylor mentioning this strange phenomenon. Brushing it off though, I just chalked it up to her being crazy. Maybe there’s more to her strange behavior than I thought.
The vent above my head spews out crisp air, causing goose bumps to form over my bare skin. Wrapping my arms around my waist, something shifts in the upper left corner of the room. My eyes dart to the figure, it is shadowy and black. One second it is there, and then disappears, like it never was there in the first place.
What the hell was that? Could it possibly be what I saw earlier in Taylor’s cell, mistakenly thinking it was her?
“Lara?”
I’m pulled from my thoughts, gazing back at the nicely dressed man. Salt-peppered specks flickering through the high and tight haircut, he holds power here, someone important. Wondering where he got his nicely pressed suit and the gold rings that push over his wrinkled fingers; I feel disgust fill my gut.
“No, I haven’t seen anything of that sort,” I say, but wondering what that shadowy figure was.
The man pushes up from his chair, standing, looming over his desk. Tall and lean, he could tower over just about anything in his path, including me. A smile spreads across his face, smooth, like whipped butter lathered on a soft piece of bread.
Now pacing in front of me, he traces his fingertips across the surface of his desk. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I run this prison. Not much can get past me, Lara. I suggest you be honest with me, let us become…friends,” he says with that same toothy grin. Now, pushing up from own chair, I charge towards him with my hands fumbling at the collar of his beige coat. The guard’s storm after me, yanking me back with fiercely and whip me away like a force of wind.
“I will never be your friend!” I scream, spitting toward his face, but it falls down onto his shiny brown shoes.
He chuckles, “Feisty! I like you.” Walking back towards me, he trails a finger along the side of my jaw. I snap at his finger, tempting to bite the tip of it off to watch blood ooze from the wound.
I chuckle this time. “Don’t tempt me asshole, I’m thirsty and night is drawing nearer.”
“Threatening me?”
Play along… I have to keep reminding myself, over and over.
“I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t control my actions, or thought process,” I say, smirking.
Pressing his hands against the sides of my arms, he leans into me. “Don’t worry child, let me help you, but you must cooperate.”
I nod my head in agreement.
Trying to swallow saliva to wet my dry throat, I gaze up into his hopeful face. “What’s your name?” I ask in attempt to become his “friend.”
“Samuel Ledgard, but please call me Led for short,” he says with an exhale of breath. Still rather close to my face, I pull away from his body heat. Led’s eyes trail down the front of me and settles on my stomach.
I look down where his gaze has fallen. “What?”
His eyes meet mine again, not allowing an eye to blink once.
Pushing away from him, I feel uncomfortable in his gaze. Before walking away from him, he wraps his large hand around my wrist; the pain from my wound causes me to wince.
Looking back at the guards, I say, “Take me back to my cell.” It was more of a demand.
Led tightens his grip, “You go back when I say. I have more questions for you!” He yells, his chest rising and falling fast.
“Let me go!”
His face is beat red and sweat forms around his temples. Someone knocks at the door, the guard eyes Led to see if she should proceed to open it.
He sighs and releases my wrist. I pull my arm close to me, trembling from his drastic mood swing. Led motions with his hand for me to sit back down, with no choice, I follow his order.
“Let whomever it is in,” he barks orders at one of the guard’s.
The door opens and footsteps enter inside the room with us. Feeling the presence of someone behind me, I am tempted to turn around to see who they are. By the look on Led’s face, he seems happy to see this particular individual. Grinning from ear to ear, he walks back around to his desk and sits.
“Hello son, finally you come for a visit.”
I turn around. The aching need to know who stands behind me fills me with panic. Shifting my body in the chair, I turn to see who stands only a few feet from me. My eyes widen with shock, despair, angst.
“Wyatt?” I say, but my voice seems far away.