Violet Path (44 page)
I raised my left hand slowly and identified myself.
“Both hands!”
“I can’t,” I yelled.
“Both hands or we shoot!” Matthew yelled and shot a bullet less than a centimeter from my neck, making my heart skip a beat.
I pulled my sling off and slowly raised both arms. It pulled at my shoulder, feeling as though my arm was being savagely ripped off with excessive force. Tears blurred my vision.
A soldier searched me briefly before declaring me “cleared.” He hadn’t noticed my dagger in my boot. Matthew then stepped up to the plate, and I lowered my hands.
Before any words were exchanged, he slapped me across the face. I tried not to react, but it stung. He raised his hand for a second time, but I kicked him before it landed. After a quick interchange of kicks and strikes, he was kneeling, wiping blood off his face. I refused to let him beat me. He pulled out a gun, and I gave in. Three soldiers came up from behind, pulled my arms behind my back, and cuffed my hands. I was defenseless. Matthew drove his knee into my abdomen. A couple of strikes followed until I saw a red and blurry world and was unable to stand. The taste of blood was bitter, and pain started to feel natural.
“I told you, I get what I want,” Matthew whispered.
He wrapped his large, cold hand around my upper right arm, and I clenched back a scream. Matthew dragged me toward one of the buildings. I was too sore and tired to keep up as he hauled me across the field. The snow absorbed my trail of blood.
He took me to the basement, through a lab, and threw me into a chair in the middle of an operating room. It was icy and empty with bright lights and metal walls. I could barely keep my head up.
A soldier uncuffed me and strapped my arms and ankles to the chair. A strap ran across my abdomen and neck. I was choking, physically and mentally, restrained with no way out.
Matthew called for a surgeon and equipment, which was quickly brought in as he accosted me.
“You need to learn to take care of yourself. The Shadows couldn’t heal you? That’s pathetic. Don’t worry, it’ll only take an hour or two.” Mathew’s words flickered on his tongue. He then tore the top of my right sleeve to reveal gauze soaked in blood. I gasped for air as he tugged at my bandage. He stood in front of me and looked directly into my eyes, then passed his hand gently across my cheek, like Maxime, leaving a trace of velvet blood. I turned away, and he laughed, “You need to be more careful.” My heart splintered as images of Maxime, David, and Ryan flew through my mind.
Matthew turned to the doctor and gave simple orders: “Heal the shoulder first and if time permits, anything else.”
“How much time, sir?”
“Two hours, tops.”
“Yes, sir. Local or general anesthetics sir?”
“Neither.”
There was an abrupt silence of shock that rippled across the room.
“Sir, it’s a complex procedure, which means excruciating pain unless under anesthetics. I first have to heat the local cells for it to heal and fuse the shattered melted clavicle and then—”
“I know what it is! She ran off thinking she was strong. Let’s put it to the test. No anesthetics! Besides, she already has an advantage with the S.S. Pill.”
“But, sir—”
“Are you deaf or incapable of taking orders? No anesthetics!” Matthew yelled.
“Yes, sir. Is a mouthpiece all right, sir? I’m afraid the reaction may be intolerable and distracting.”
“No, she can scream all she wants. Burning her lungs will only harm her. If you get distracted, fix your mistakes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The doctor approached me rather calmly, pulling the equipment on a tray behind him. I was trembling in fear. My heart accelerated as he raised a couple of appliances and placed them on my shoulder tightly, like clamps, making me jerk and clench my jaw. He then poured clear liquid on my wound and let it drip to the floor. It stung lightly, like a prickling feeling. I saw him lift another appliance and looked away. My breathing became heavier, and pearls of sweat beaded chains around my forehead. I heard a beep and felt as if a spear had been thrust into my clavicle.
I screamed.
Every degree of pain shot from my wound like hell had been created under my skin. I felt like I was being skinned alive.
I screamed again.
My throat inflamed, and the pressure burst in my head. I tried to move, to get away, to fight back. I clenched my eyes tightly and released every ounce of energy I could muster. Tears streamed down my face, and I pleaded for them to stop. I was drowning in my own cries, groaning as if it could help with some relief. Time was endless. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t inflate my lungs; I was being strangled.
I screamed again.
“Come on! Wake up!”
Matthew was shaking my shoulders uncontrollably, causing my head to whip back and forth. To my surprise, I wasn’t in the least bit of pain, but my head was spinning, and I quickly became nauseous.
“You’ve had more than enough rest. We had to move cells in your collarbone and activate a ridiculous amount of enzymes to heal your shoulder rapidly. That surgery alone took three-and-a-half hours. Then you had burns and scars to heal. What the hell have you been doing?” Matthew sneered.
I hazily looked around. The surgeon was leaving with his tray full of bloody utensils. Five soldiers stood armed around me. I was perfectly fine. To my surprise, Matthew started to uncuff my wrists, but he kept my ankles locked. I immediately examined my hands to find them unscarred without any letters engraved in them. A soldier then handed me a blue shirt.
“Change.”
I waited for him to turn around, but he couldn’t care less for my discomfort.
“You can’t possibly think that I’m going to have my back to you for a few minutes. Change!”
I pretended not to be concerned, slipped off my torn-up shirt, and pulled on the new one. It was a tight fit, and I realized that Matthew had taken away my body-warmer as well as my anti-gravity ring.
“You’ll pick up your training where you left off, only with a different schedule. You will remain here, in this cell, unless I authorize you to see daylight. Instructors and materials will be brought here. You will eat and sleep here. Because there is no bed, and I am aware that handcuffs are uncomfortable, you will be given general anesthetics to allow you to fully rest. If you do not cooperate, not only will physical pain be inflicted, but you will also go without food or water. Also an attack on The Shadows, or what’s left of it, will be listed under your name. You know I care little for prisoners, so you’ll watch their executions. Have I made myself clear?”
I hated him. He was a monster. I wanted to squeeze every ounce of air out of him. I clenched my jaw and remained passive, but I was on the verge of breaking. I nodded and looked away. I didn’t understand how someone could be so sadistic.
“Good. Your first class starts now.” Matthew’s voice was light and joyful.
A man walked in and saluted Matthew. He then looked at me strangely. As he started to release my ankles, the surrounding soldiers raised their guns. I felt dangerous, powerful. I stood up and felt my legs crumble beneath me as the blood flow started again.
“The soldiers stay,” Matthew announced, then stepped out, and the heavy metal door slammed shut. I was completely trapped.
The man circled around and around. I waited silently until I couldn’t stand the sound of his footsteps on the metal floor. “So who are you? And what am I learning today?” I asked casually, because there was no way that I would respect Matthew or his minions.
“I’m Morgan. I trained Maxime and now you. You will learn all you need to know about your abilities and limits. Nothing will be overlooked,” Morgan said in a serious voice.
Before I could ask my following question, he spun around and launched a knife at me. I surprised myself by moving to the side and blocking the weapon without getting injured. I naturally had good reflexes, but that had really shocked me. Then it dawned on me: Matthew was replacing Maxime with me, so I had to undergo the same training and surgeries. It also explained why Matthew needed me to sleep in the cell, surrounded by doctors and scientists.
“Good, good. It’ll improve. Don’t worry; you’ll be able to catch the blade when I’m through with you. Now class will really begin,” Morgan said. He reminded me of Anton and Nick, only his voice was deeper, and his eyes didn’t reflect a soul or thought, but a programmed robot. As encouraging as his words might have been, I didn’t trust him.
He lectured me for hours while he had me run around the cell. Not only was I tiring, but I wasn’t interested in his words. When he finished, dinner was offered, although it still felt like no later than three in the afternoon. I didn’t appreciate the haphazard, meaningless act of kindness, but I was starved.
After being served chicken, rice, and a mix of vegetables with exotic spices along with a pitcher of water, I was seated and strapped down once more. There was no way I would get used to it, even if the food was delicious. The same doctor as before forced a needle into my vein in my left elbow. I watched as he pressed on the top of the syringe and the anesthetics were pushed into me. I tried to think of a way to resist, to avoid being dehumanized, but I was left blank, empty. He pulled the needle out and left. The soldiers tightened their circle around me. My eyelids felt heavy, and my mind cleared itself quickly, welcoming fantasy and hope. I let go and flew to ethereal freedom.
At first I didn’t notice the changes until I was tested to see if the procedures were actually working. I started to recognize footsteps, anticipate gestures along with their reactions, and I rarely struggled with physical challenges regardless of their abnormal difficulty. I hated it. My brain wouldn’t rest. It was always telling me how many seconds were left in the passing minute, the distance between me and whoever was coming toward me, or the notes they hit when speaking. It was extreme concentration nonstop.
I tried to talk Matthew and Morgan out of it and to train me instead, but they would only increase the amount of anesthetics. I turned to the doctor, but he was completely lifeless, manipulated, controlled by Matthew. I started to give in slowly, not knowing what other options I had.
I hadn’t seen real, natural, radiant light for ages, and not only had I grown pale like a ghost, but I also felt like I was suffocating without the fresh, clean air. I missed the burning sun, the cool wind that had once rushed up my neck playfully, and the light, pure air that would filter my lungs. I begged to have a lesson outdoors whenever I was given the opportunity to speak, but it was always denied.
I had a strict schedule with specific lesson plans and sensitive time limits. Even restroom breaks and showering were given restricted times, and I was always surrounded by a squad of loyal, dehumanized soldiers.
I didn’t fear much other than losing my mind to Matthew and the destruction he caused. I even learned not to fear Matthew in person or the emotional and physical torture that came with his presence. Regardless of my adaptations, I was not intrepid and felt my memories being threatened. Every time I closed my eyes, I put every drop of effort into piecing together an image of Maxime. I imagined his soft touch and sweet lips, but every remembrance became nothing but gossamer dreams like dust in the wind. I lost him and my heart along with it. I had nothing left. I was broken.
I did my best not to despair, but days went by, weeks followed, then months, and finally a year. Christmas and New Year meant nothing to H.S.H.S., but to me it meant everything. It was the perfect snow, with glimpses of Maxime’s reflection on the glittering ice, David and Ryan’s vague memories, and finally knowing my brother. But also the barren, white fields stained in raspberry-colored blood, scattered by Matthew’s footsteps and torn by his hand of steel. It marked the changing of my life, both death and life. It was the horizon kept afar by raging emotions varying from love to hate. It was emerged in denial, for I wanted to hold onto it with all my heart, but needed to let it go. I needed to forget. I needed to move on.
Sadly, Maxime’s face started to fade. I couldn’t see his eyes, his chiseled jawline, his jet-black curls. I couldn’t smell his scent, that fresh scent of the forest. And as every day passed, Maxime slowly faded.
Last time I had heard the date, it had been March 25, and then July 7. Time passed quickly, but it was still impossible to track. Matthew made living unbearable. I even started to think Maxime had forgotten me. I had left him, but I had secretly hoped for him to save me from H.S.H.S. As time sped by, I wasn’t sure he was ever going to come.
“Good morning, Alexia,” Matthew said one day. “Today, you get to make a decision. I am giving you a choice.”
I wanted some freedom, some say in what happened, but he wouldn’t offer me what I’d desired. Six soldiers walked in dragging two men with bound hands and feet.Their heads hung low, hiding their faces in the shadows. I feared what was going to happen as I tried desperately to see who they were. I didn’t want to recognize them.
The men were seated in front of me. One man was bleeding from the head and stomach with deep cuts along his limbs. His blond hair was caked in blood. The other man had red hair and was only slightly injured with a few bruises and cuts. The soldiers pulled their hair and forced their heads up. I choked. The blond-haired man was John from my group at The Shadows. I didn’t know the other captive, but John’s presence was already more than enough motivation for me to watch my choice of words with Matthew around.
I looked away, hoping John wouldn’t open his eyes and look at me. I couldn’t face him or explain anything. He was only a pawn Matthew was using against me.
Matthew took his gun out of his holster and walked over to me. He uncuffed my hands, then tied them together in front of me. He placed the gun between my palms and lifted my arms up so I was aiming at the two prisoners. I glared at Matthew. I couldn’t and wouldn’t pull the trigger.
“This is a fellow named John, who we managed to capture only a few days ago. He hasn’t been very cooperative as you can see. He’s from The Shadows, so I suspect you know him. This is Caelan, who was taken late last night from Lisba. I have repeated myself time and time again that I do not appreciate having to waste our provisions with prisoners, but because of your unusual softness, I will grant you one spared life. You shoot the one you think deserves it the most and the other lives. You have two minutes to decide; otherwise, they will both be disposed of. The choice is yours.” Matthew smiled at me as tears clouded my vision.
