by Clara Wake
Nickolai remains silent, taking in everything he says. Whether he believes him or not is another question, but he considers it, considers him.
“You did give me the sandwich,” he agrees with a nod. Still, he keeps his guard up; it is something he’s learned since he arrived. Always keep your guard up—no matter what or who is with you.
“So, can I please take a look and clean it?” Jake asks. His eyes almost never leave Nickolai’s lip. He’d been wide awake just thinking about it. He just had to make sure he was okay.
“Okay,” Nickolai finally answers and lowers his knees from his chest. He bashfully drops his shoulders and lets the medic take a detailed look.
“Do any of your teeth hurt or are wobbly?” He asks, as he carefully pulls Nickolai’s head forwards.
“No,” Nickolai replies, shaking his head. He can’t help but wonder how the hell someone of his age knows so much about this kind of injury.
“How do you know all of this?” He inquires, humouring his curiosity.
“I read the same first aid book from age six all the way to now; I always wanted to be a medic,” he tells him. Jake then falls silent, watching Nickolai suck at his lip, “you know, your lip is healing pretty well, but”.
He still chooses to grab his medic kit and take out some cotton balls, dipping one of them into a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
“This might sting,” he warns, dabbing carefully at the bruised and split lip. He gives it a thorough clean, exposing his lip and giving him a more detailed look. He smiles promptly upon seeing it. “It’s fine,” he declares, as he leans back and sighs in relief.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks, eyes searching him for any evidence of further trauma. He certainly read a lot as a kid, and he is proving it. Dedicated to his craft, he wants to keep his squad safe – regardless of the majority being complete assholes.
“No,” Nickolai lies. His side hurts where they punched him, but their hits weren’t too thick or sturdy, so he feels it's not that bad to be slightly sore on the sides.
“Ok. By the way, my name is Jake,” the Medic says, bringing out his hand for a handshake. He smiles brightly at Nickolai, his eyes watching the nervous elf; hoping he’d accept his friendship.
“I know,” Nickolai tells him, he remembers all their names. He has a good memory.
“Nickolai,” Jake greets him, before slowly taking his hand and shaking it. Why can’t all of them be this kind? Then again, how long would this last? And was Jake setting him up for another attack.
CHAPTER 5
Days grow long and nights even longer. Thoughts and poisonous mirages plague his mind. Constantly on alert, he lays on his back waiting for an attack.
It has been months. How many? He isn’t sure. Time isn’t necessary for The Compound. Well, the morning is. He could be woken up at the crack of dawn, up and at it with training. From first aid to tactical response, everything is a lot like a boot camp only stricter. You thought the Army was tough? Or the Special Forces? Those are nothing compared to the strain, endurance, overload, and challenges these children face every day. No breaks. If you want a drink, you must work for it.
Faults and mistakes are made, bruises rise, and bones are broken. Blood is spilt, and screams are heard. Yet, he continues to rise above. Nickolai isn’t going to let them take him down. He isn’t going to let them win.
He is being tested, and he is smarter and stronger than they realize. Even with the constant and undying bullying and torment, it strengthens him. Each curse word, or smack to the back of his head. He holds in the anger, the pit of rage bubbling in his stomach. One day, they’ll learn their lesson—just like the Governor would. He hasn’t forgotten about her. No.
Nickolai’s birthday passes, and there is no celebration; that day is the worst for him—the darkest, a reminder of his dreadful parents and why he is here in the first place. Seven years and so much more suffering in this hell he has to call home.
Nickolai’s eyes are sharp, his ears strong, and his aim deadly. He is their best marksman, even better than Tyler, their sniper. He regularly hits the targets and beats everyone with his swift movements and modified compound bow.
Of course, this didn’t happen straight away. Countless days, weeks, and months, Nickolai missed and shot so far off target the laughter grew. Other days, he was swatted with each miss until he got it right and precise. With bruised and aching bones, he persevered further. More than the others. While they lay asleep at night, Nickolai continued to practice beneath the cleansing moonlight, pushing himself and proving to them he could do it.
From the snap of the shooting spring to the broken lower limb of his compound bow, he carries himself and his bow through it all. He fixes any issue he stumbles across and makes sure he and his bow work together to eliminate any task thrown at them.
The Squad continues to grow more frustrated, especially their Shadow, Syrus. Sparring with him, Nickolai takes him down in a flurry of fists and dance moves. Even with his success, Nickolai has his weakness, and they all knew them, unfortunately.
Nickolai isn’t wasting his time as they are. They’ll be rough with one another after training sessions, or they sleep and eat – rinse and repeat. Other than that, they don’t do much else; they’ll be on the computers playing games or surfing the internet – at least, what they could access.
Reading soon becomes easier with the help of his one-on-one time with his personal tutor every passing day, and he reads every book he can find in their small library opposite the cafeteria.
Focusing on martial arts and even meditation, Nickolai research everything he can to make sense of everything.
Why? To prove everyone wrong. He isn’t what they claim him to be. He isn’t the failure they lead him to believe.
Praise is never an option. Cheering is never something they receive. Compliments? No such thing. If you do well, you just do well and it takes no notice. However, if you fail, fell, or missed a target, you’ll know about it. Screams and yells come from the Captain about how much of a failure you are to yourself and your team—all the things Nickolai already knows about himself. Sometimes, depending on the Captain’s mood, it takes a lot more than the stern barks from his mouth.
There’s a small room, on the lower deck of the basement dubbed, The Chamber. Those who come back from there are broken, shattered, and changed. Changed in such a way that most of them take their own lives not long after being subject to the room’s chains.
What goes on in there? Anyone who made it out in one piece never spoke of it and if they did? They’d be sent back inside and this time? They never got out again.
It’s rumoured to be a small room, but speculations have said otherwise, and they all make sense as if there is some truth and fact behind their speculations and assumptions.
The Chamber is treated as a ghost story around the campus. Every squad fears it, but only a selected few are unfortunate to witness it.
It’s been noted and mentioned a few times after his hiccups, as small as tripping over a branch and hopping back up. He is threatened like the others as well.
Every one of them never makes the same mistake.
Even with the words, “The Chamber,” the boys feel a chill crawl down their spines and goosebumps drench their skin. It terrifies them all, and with that Nickolai starts to wonder if that’s where their sixth member is.
Nickolai lies awake one night, wide-eyed as he watches the shadows dance around his room; the nights are the hardest to close his thoughts, to wash them away is difficult.
After hours of drowning his thoughts, his mind finally and slowly starts to switch off for the day. It was long, exhausting and cruel. He has the bruises to show it and a splitting headache to remind him. Banging, throbbing and splitting his skull.
He is getting more food than he did when he first arrived, thankfully. Jake has been sneaking food into his room every chance he gets.
They are still cruel to him in the cafeteria, refusing fo
od and drink to him. Even though the members of their own squad don’t even know him, they obey Aiden’s orders, and do as he tell them. Again, these kids and men are like sheep. Mindless and spineless.
Some nights, Jake reads with Nickolai and spends time with him outside of training. As if he is a friend to Nickolai. This thought ignites a warm feeling in his chest and manages what looks like very minor smile to his lips.
Someone cares about him despite all his flaws? Maybe there is a possibility to be loved after all. Be it, by a mother, or a friend. Either way, it was something. Something so much more profound than hatred.
Lost in his thoughts, Nickolai is soon jolted from his bed as a blood-curdling scream erupts from outside, the heavy panting and constant squeals and yells catching his attention, with a sharp flick of his ears. Nickolai rushes out to investigate, swinging through the doors and hiding behind the small row of bushes outside Earth’s shed. He peers around and watches, his eyes wide and alert. Alarm bells are wailing in his mind as he keeps a sharp lookout.
His lips are parted in pure shock and fright. The screams are horrifying; it’s no wonder no one else seems to be investigating. It is the screeching of someone dying, or close to it. The sounds turn his stomach with each cry.
“No! Please!” A young man wails, dropping to his knees, doing anything and everything he can to keep himself from moving forwards. He drops down just before Earth’s shed, begging and pleading with the guard that shackled his wrists together and tugs and pulls at him to keep walking.
There’s a semi-rifle in his arm, and he continues to pull the young man to his feet, grinding his teeth as veins surface in his neck. His breath sinks into the air as he breathes heavily, “Get up!” he orders, yanking the young man up once again.
“Please, please!” The young man begs, sobbing and panting with each step, tears crawling and spilling from his eyes.
“Shut up! You’re going in there; that’s what happens when you do the wrong thing” The guard claimed in a harrowing tone.
Nickolai watches in horror. His chest rises and falls with his erratic breathing. His heart hammers and jerks up into his throat. He is shaking, not from the cold of the night, but from the pure fear of what is unfolding before him.
“No! Please, please!” the man pleads, his voice shaking uncontrollably. it was stunning how he could even speak, “I’ll do anything! Please don’t put me down there,” he spits, whining loudly and sobbing.
He’s desperate, scared and doomed; he needs to do something. His eyes dart around the dark night, eyes flickering to anything and everything surrounding him and in his haze, he sees the young elf and screams.
Louder than before – his voice breaks – and he doesn’t stop. He moves, lunging towards the direction Nickolai is in, reaching out with his cuffed wrists. “Please help!” he howls, before he’s pulled back and thrown to his back releasing a few loose leaves from the ground, as he pounds his back into the soil beneath him. He doesn’t stop screaming. “Please Help me!” He wails once again before the Guard takes a quick look around.
Nickolai darts out of his line of sight instantly, hiding behind the bushes as quietly and fast as he possibly can. Holding his breath, he covers his mouth with his trembling palm. Clenching his eyes closed, he waits for any sign of the man to be elsewhere and anywhere but near him.
Nickolai takes a moment, listening to the constant screams and begging of the young man. He can’t stand it – he can’t just sit there and let this happen. The fear colliding with adrenaline rushes through him. He may be just a boy, but he must do something.
Stepping out, Nickolai is stealthy with his steps, as light as a feather. He slowly treads towards them, eyes narrowed on the Guard’s back. Then a gunshot rings through his ears, and blinds him for a second, knocking him almost off his feet. He stands his ground, blinking from the throbbing agony to his sensitive ears. He manages to catch himself before falling and swiftly moves back into Earth’s shed. Unseen or heard. The shot rings through The Compound, rendering pure silence within the night. No more screaming, no more begging. Silence finally owns the night once again.
Silence must be heard.
Darting to his room, his ears ringing and his mind flashing with everything that’s happened, He’s panting and breathless. He’s confused and baffled by what’s occurred—at least what he thought took place. Everything develops so quickly; the adrenaline sinks in and he shakes. Uncertain and flooding with unpredictable thoughts. He attempts to take a moment to himself, to calm and collect his mind.
Sitting down, he draws in a slow and deep breath. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. He can’t erase it; he can still hear the screams repeating, the begging spreading through his mind like a broken record. He’s rattled he didn’t do anything.
What happened? Everything becomes dark, and the corner of his eyes foggy and distorted, before he feels heavy in the face. Sweat starts to tread his temple and forehead, and his breathing increases before he leans to the side and passes out.
“Rise and shine, shitheads! It’s Agility day!”
The loud roar rings through the hallway, the same morning greeting every day. With the topic of their training inserted. Unquestionably the worst alarm ever, and you can’t turn it off; because he’d come storming in if you aren’t up and out of your room within minutes after his first alert. His tone is high and ecstatic. He loves Agility day because it’s the most fun he has with them.
Charging in, the Captain swings Nickolai’s door open and slaps the sleeping elf on the cheek – not softly – with a hard smack. Nickolai jolts awake with a loud gasp.
He’s disoriented, confused and groggy. Baffled by how he is back in his room, Nickolai blinks as he sits up and looks at the Captain. “Get the fuck up, pointy boy!” The Captain screams in his face, before moving out into the hall to check the others. Promptly yelling down the hall, “Get up you little fucks!” He is so convincing.
Rubbing his eyes, Nickolai slowly makes his way out of his room with his accessories and clothes for the day. He’s learned a new habit thanks to this place, and that’s to repetitively run his palm over his scalp, waiting and wanting his hair to grow back. Which luckily, it is. Small and thick strands of hair are surfacing, and of course, that patch at the back of his head, is longer than the rest and constantly sticking up like bed hair. He doesn’t mind it too much now; he missed it.
He enters the bathroom. There are three rows of shower stalls and two rows of toilets, one row of sink and mirrors. Surprisingly, you had the luxury of taking as long as you wished beneath the soothing and warm water, a moment of peace before the chaos, but of course that doesn’t stop the constant taunting from The Captain, insisting you were a girl for staying in the shower for so long. What’s so wrong about that?
The stalls are empty, and there’s a moment of clarity that washes away all the sorrow and pain. However, the horrifying events of last night linger heavily.
Steam covers and amble above, keeping the air warm and the walls drenched. Making his way out of the shower, he throws his towel around himself and hurries, making his way back to his room. He has no time to be standing around in only a towel.
Getting dressed in his usual dark clothes, he, of course, chooses his agile combat boots with the green strip down the side indicating which squad he’s from. He isn’t going to go trekking the field of mud and dirt in his sneakers. As usual, he ties his crimson blanket around his arm and sets off.
Agility day is one of the hardest and most challenging days. It’s the last day of the week—well, for their bodies anyway. They get some rest, some during the weekend but they’re still pushed to their limits.
Some have passed out during their agility training and are left overnight in the cold and thick air—left to sleep it off, rain or hail, scorching and soggy heat. It never matters to the Captains of the Squads. If they learn their lesson, it is okay. If they got back up and attempted the day again, they are fine with it. A lesson learned.<
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The weather isn’t an excuse. It is raining? Good, the better for sustaining the endurance of running, crawling, and climbing during hail or downpours. Stuck in the mud? Get yourself out of it or sink and lose. Your choice, however, limited it is.
It is nothing but a struggle for everyone involved. They fight, strain and pull themselves through it. For what? Why? The questions flood their minds every now and then, just wanting to know why they are being trained for such drastic measures. Maybe, when they’re older, they’ll learn the truth; or live a fabricated lie.
As he became more confident, so did Nickolai's skill with his compound bow, gaining the ability to hit the target with impeccable timing and force. Considering he’s learned to modify it to the best of his abilities, he’s made it his own., and for him only.
Training is sometimes his favourite part of the day – the bullying is nil and their focus is entirely elsewhere. He enjoys the peace of that aspect, but of course training means shouting from the Captain, threats left, right, and centre. The old Chamber threat becomes a joke at this point. Until of course, one of them is pulled by their ear and dumped behind the triple locked door. Who knows what will happen, and they didn’t care now. No matter what the Captain threatens, they scoff and roll their eyes. It never happens.
It isn’t long before rumours start to spread, that over one of the large barricaded walls is another set of squads, labelled by colours instead of elements. The same layout and setting. Only there is one difference: they are girls.
You’d think, they’d have heard them, considering how loud and rough their side was. However, their side is eerily quiet. It’s unsettling to say the least, but the girls are there.
The gossip spirals during breakfast, and the boys make comments: crude and rude jokes, obscene gestures and motions about them. The older boys, of course, are the ones who decide to announce that there are girls over the border. The buzz is loud, like a hive across the floor. If you hadn’t heard about the girls next door, then you were literally under a rock or worse? In the Chamber.