To Be Free Read Free

through some fabric, so
leaning against them isn't a problem.
    They're lined up side by side,
leaving us a gorgeous view of the testing rooms just across the
hall through the one-way windows they've installed. I made the
mistake of looking once, and by God it still haunts my
nightmares.
    They throw him into Ten's old
cell, and the black-haired man groans slightly, lifting himself
onto his hands and knees before raising his head and looking
around. The Vigils watch the man as he sits up, their
expressionless faces partially hidden by the headgear still on
their heads, turning them from regular citizens to nondescript
soldiers with the power to destroy us.
    "You will be seen to shortly,"
one says offhandedly, turning his back to the rows of cells and
walking back the way he's come. His companion gives me a stern look
as he passes by my cell, where I sit with my right shoulder against
the western bars and smirk at him, arms crossed.
    "As for you, Nine, I hope
you're ready 'cause they're cooking a hell of a storm in there for
you," the second hisses, and I recognize the sneer - the Vigil I've
given hell to ever since I've come here.
    "I can't wait," I reply
sweetly, and after making a face he follows after the first man,
leaving us to the silence of the quiet screams and moans of agony;
the sobs of those who've lost it all and hope to die with all their
being. Most of them will die in the next twenty-four hours, if
they're lucky; the chance of being one of the people with what
they’re looking for is around 5%. They're great odds, so long as
you're not one of the 5%.
    I catch the movement of the man
as he gets up to his feet, massaging his wrists - given the height
difference between him and the cell, I'd say he's around six feet -
and carefully walks over to the eastern end of his cell, near where
I'm at, and touches the bars carefully.
    He's either fearless or stupid,
and I'm heavily leaning towards the latter as he touches the bar,
jolting back with the sting of electricity. His eyes are a piercing
brown shade, a hazel that shifts with the light, and full of that
life most lose quickly around here.
    "I wouldn't waste my breath on
escaping if I were you," I inform the man as I card my fingers
through my overgrown fringe. The light brown hairs are damaged
after being uncared for this long, washed once a week as it is. He
turns that piercing gaze onto me, our cells separated by mere
inches. "Trust me, you'll be let out soon enough, and you'll wish
they'd never taken you out."
    Frowning, the man uses the
sleeve of his issued attire - a long-sleeved white shirt and pants
that don't do anything to keep out the cold at night - to press his
hands on the bars, leaning towards me as best he can in his
prison.
    "Why do you say that?" he asks,
and for a second the voice throws me off. Not only because of
recognition, but because I wasn't expecting to hear a voice like
his - light at first, but deepens as he speaks like some sort of
roller coaster. It's not one I'd associate with him.
    I can't say where I've heard
that voice, though - my little stint of amnesia's getting worse as
the weeks go by, and half my life is lost to me now. The parts I've
wanted to forget ever since they happened haunt me still,
however.
    "They always test the newbies,"
I state, shrugging a shoulder. "See that window up ahead? We have
the privilege of watching the gruesome results of whatever they
decide to do - although you'll get the same test as everyone. If
you're what they're looking for, you survive. You're trash, you
die."
    His frown deepens at me,
clearly displeased, but I've used up what little tolerance I could
dredge up for him. Besides, if things go the way they have for a
while, he'll be dead and my turn to the chopping block will arrive
soon.
    I plan to be out of here by
then.
    "Who're you?" he questions,
ignoring the fact that my thoughts have drifted away from him. I
sigh loudly, enough for him to hear my irritation, before I turn my
piercing gaze