Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  “Take her pants off, too…” Frank breathed. The fabric was pulled as I struggled, though they forced the pants to pool around my ankles, effectively keeping me from moving as it tangled with the restraints.

  “Those bruises make her fucking hot…” Frank smiled, his teeth toying with his lower lip. “I love it when they’re defiant and need to be shown who owns them.”

  “Well, Frank…” the leader smiled, pushing me forward and bending me over the table. “Go ahead and show her.”

  Much to my relief, it didn’t hurt as much as the previous day.

  The others did not waste the opportunity. I tried to block it out, tried to ignore what was happening, letting it take its course. I would come back to reality when they were done.

  Which did not take as long as the previous day, either.

  Frank left, spanking me once as he zipped himself up, telling me: “Thanks for the fuck.”

  That was my cue to return to the present.

  Which I promptly wished I had been absent for.

  It was just the same as yesterday. The drowning feeling made me think that every moment was going to be my last, that I was about to collapse and die on the table. While death would have been a welcome relief from what was going on in my body and the pain of my pitiful existence in the Commission of the People, the panic that gripped me at every moment was instinct. I was unable to breathe, my body and brain were fighting to function, and there was nothing I could do to tell them to calm down and accept what was happening.

  And the entire time, that damn song was playing again.

  This time it only played twenty-three times.

  I was led back to my cell, dressed, but exhausted and cold.

  Mark was pacing in the back of the cell, waiting.

  He ran forward and hugged me as I fell to my knees, trying to ignore the men as they locked the door and walked away.

  I looked at Mark, who was watching the men leave through the glass. When they were gone, his eyes turned back to me, worried and confused.

  “I need to get out of here…” I hissed, clutching the front of his suit. “You have to get me out of here. I was just sold for two packs of cigarettes…” His eyes went wide and he stared at me in horror. “And I…I’m starting to get used to this torture…” I whispered, shaking my head as I looked at the floor of my cell, surprised and terrified. “I…I just s-shut down when they were raping me…”

  It took me a while to gather myself enough to talk to Mark sensibly.

  “You said you were going to help me, so help me,” I hissed, staring at him expectantly. He took a deep breath, as though fighting with himself about how to tell me bad news. “Don’t you have a plan? You always have a plan!”

  He looked sheepishly away, keeping his eyes low. He gently guided me to the wall and sat next to me, taking my hand in his and holding it comfortingly.

  “Please, Mark, I really need to get out of here…I can’t take this anymore…”

  He sighed again and shook his head, giving me a sad smile.

  I was losing him just as I had lost Josh. I leaned my head on his shoulder, desperate to keep him close, not letting him go, no matter what.

  I did not pester him, hoping to give him time to think up something. Three times, I did look at him, asking him if he was thinking of a plan. I was getting tired of his silence. I needed stronger confirmation that he was going to help me, that he was going to get me through this hell…

  I could not do it alone.

  Each time I asked, he would nod and smile mysteriously, but I was getting upset at his avoidance. It made me nervous and angry.

  Mark was so good at thinking on his feet. Why was he acting this way?

  Once again, the group came to retrieve me. I had decided on a name for them in the silence I shared with Mark. Since they were only interested in torturing me, I was going to call them the T-Team, to separate them from my Group-A and Group-B scientists, who I knew the individual names of.

  Every member of the T-Team was molded into one face. They were indistinguishable shadows, sharing the same form and face.

  I went with them, leaving Mark behind again.

  They took their fill of me as before, but as soon as I saw the door of the lab coming closer, I felt my brain shutting off. I did not need to be present for any of this. I remained unmovable, unshakable as they tried to get me to scream and cry. I did not give them the satisfaction.

  The rape was over far quicker.

  As was the testing. The song only played twelve times. I knew all the words now, though I could not recall them as I walked back to my cell.

  Because of my lack of comprehension of my own situation, it took me at least three hours before I finally managed to talk to Mark.

  “I need to know your plan, Mark…” I whispered. He remained where he was, so I stood up and looked at him seriously. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  Mark sighed and stood as well, looking at the floor.

  “No, no.” I shook my head strongly. “Do not just stare at the floor and avoid the question. I need you to talk to me!” The words stuck in my throat and the tears began to overtake me. “I don’t know what’s happening to me…” I hissed. “I’m losing everyone. I-I’m forgetting the people I loved and cared about…I’m…I’m even forgetting how you used to be able to think so quick on your feet and get us out of situations…” I sniffed. “I need you to come back to me, Mark. Help me get out of here…I don’t want to become Dana…”

  Mark stared at me for a long moment before swallowing hard and closing his eyes in pain. My heart fell.

  “You…you don’t know how to help me…” I hissed. I fell to my knees and shook my head. “You always know…” I began crying, curling forward, holding myself around my bruised middle.

  “Please, Mark…” I pled. “You’re the only one I have left! You have to help me out of this! I’ll die without your help! I’ll end up in the pit like everyone else! Please, Mark!”

  Mark reached down and tried to touch my shoulder, but I shied away, slapping his hand and turning another direction, trying to clear my vision of tears and get rid of the embarrassment I felt at begging like a spoiled child.

  He moved to face me, crouching and resting a hand on my shoulder. I looked up slowly, pushing the tears away with the heels of my hands and trying to focus on him. His hand came up and gently brushed some droplets away from my cheeks, his eyes looking into mine, seeing my agony.

  “Please…h-help me…tell me…just tell me everything is going to be okay…”

  He sighed heavily and averted his eyes. I waited, my heart beating loudly in my chest, waiting for anything. I wanted him to tell me something. To tell me that everything was going to be okay, that he was sorry, that he was going to help me, that all I needed to do was stay strong…

  I just needed his support.

  “Mark…please…”

  He looked at me and opened his mouth. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes wide. He was going to speak. He was going to tell me what I need to hear and it would renew my fighting spirit. He knew me better than anyone…he knew what I needed to hear…

  He hesitated, trying to find the right words. I hung onto each heavy second, waiting for him to speak.

  He took a deep breath and turned to face me, his mouth opening slowly.

  “Here’s the truth…” he whispered.

  His voice was wrong. There was something painful and cold about his voice…

  It wasn’t Mark’s voice. It was too familiar…too frightening…

  “This was all part of the plan. This was everything that needed to happen. It’s only going to take one or two more things…and you’ll fall right into your role…”

  I knew that voice. I knew who was really talking around Mark’s façade…

  “Really, Little Lily, you’re so silly. You were weak. Everyone was weak. Griffin, Tori…they were the weakest ones you had. Griffin flew into a rage seeing his lesbian dead, and Tori gave up f
ighting as soon as she was strung behind the car. They. Were. Weak.”

  I stared in horror at the words coming out of Mark’s mouth.

  “And Josh?” The voice barked a laugh. “He was pathetic. Sniveling and wandering around, trying to make sure everyone was happy so no one would see how useless he was. I never could stand him.”

  “No…”

  “He wasn’t worthy of the love you gave him,” the voice snapped. Mark’s face was cold, unrecognizable, dark and evil. I was terrified, staring into the dark eyes, trying to find any semblance of familiarity, any sign that Mark was still there.

  There was no way this was him…

  “But then again, you always cared too much about people. That was how Mykail got you in the sack so quickly. You opened your heart to him and your legs followed shortly.”

  “Shut up…” I hissed, turning away. The words were worse than daggers and bullets. They felt like acid ripping holes in me. The pain was too slow, too precise. Mark would never say these things.

  “But you were just so naïve and precious. You cost everyone their lives…you should have just been captured in the Sweep and saved everyone the trouble of trying to keep you alive.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled, turning back to him. “I tried to give myself over! I was going to give up and let everyone else live!”

  “So, why are you begging me to get you out of here?” he challenged. “You were going to give yourself over to him, so why don’t you just take what you deserve!”

  “Shut up!” I lunged at him. “You took everyone I loved, and you either killed them or turned them against me, and now you’re taking Mark and destroying him in front of me!”

  “You did all of that on your own,” Dana’s voice snarled through Mark’s face. I was sitting on top of him, pushing him to the ground, watching as he leaned up to taunt me. “You did everything all on your own…I’m so proud of you.”

  “Stop it!”

  I reached for his jaw, shoving my fingers through his teeth and into his mouth, sticking them further and further down his throat, my nails scratching along the surfaces of his mouth as he choked.

  “I won’t listen to you anymore! Give me Mark back! He’s all I have!!”

  I was crying, forcing my hand further into the mouth, trying to rip the voice out, trying to free him of Dana’s hold, knowing that it was not Mark talking. Just as Dana had taken away Mark’s voice, I was going to take away Dana’s…

  We had all suffered too much because of him. Lives had been lost and people had been stripped of everything they knew because of him. There was too much pain in the words, too much pain in the voice, too much pain at seeing him consume the one person I knew to be infallible…

  There was blood spilling out of the sides of his mouth, shooting upward as they were forced between my hand and his lips as he choked and suffocated, his voice fading in echoes around the cell. I knew I was almost at his voice…Dana’s voice was almost gone…

  When everything went still, I knew I had succeeded. I felt myself relax, knowing that the words were no longer there to hurt me. They were gone. I had destroyed them.

  I moved my hand, but was startled by a warm, stickiness on my fingers. Carefully, I looked at them and saw the thick, burgundy blood that soaked my hand. My stomach flipped and panic began rise in my chest. I turned to look at the figure below me and saw Mark’s face, pale, blood pouring from his mouth as his eyes stared widely, glossy with death, but filled with the emotion he had in his final moments.

  I fell off him, sitting awkwardly at his side, my leg still over his abdomen as I stared at the expression.

  Fear…

  He was afraid…

  …of me.

  I was not staring at Dana. I was staring at Mark.

  I had just killed my strongest support, my best friend and big brother…

  …I had just killed him again.

  My breath was short, staring at the expression, the blood on the cement, and the blood on my hand.

  Lifting my hand to pull at my hair, I let out a scream that echoed through the cell, shaking my chest as I pulled at my hair and face, grieving the loss of Mark and the battle I had lost with myself. I screamed and screamed, wanting my throat to bleed so I could lay on the floor and die with him.

  I screamed until I could scream no longer…

  * *** *

  There were sores all over my body. I knew they were there despite the fact I could not see them. I did not bother to look more than once. My eyes had been deceiving me for weeks. It was no surprise that I could not see the horrible, weeping sores.

  I just had to wait for infection to set in, or for me to bleed dry, and then I would die.

  For three days, I sat in my cell, my meals delivered and taken away without notice as I stared at the dead body in my cell. Sometimes, the corpse moved, turning the dead, fear-filled eyes on me. But regardless of where it was looking, I saw the terrified countenance every time I blinked.

  When a group of guards came to get me, slapping the restraints on my wrists and hauling me to my feet, I put up no fuss, unable to find the energy. Maybe they had seen the sores and were taking me for treatment. Or maybe they were taking me for another round of testing…

  Perhaps they were going to ‘take me out back and shoot me…’

  Did it really matter what they did?

  It was over. There was no hope. Dana was either going to kill me, or turn me into the next leader of the Commission of the People—his clone.

  The guards walked me through the halls and to the offices that now seemed unfamiliar. They then led me into a hallway I vaguely remembered from a distant past.

  We walked into a room that was very different from any room I had ever seen in the Commission. There was a chair covered in restraints facing a wall of glass. I was going to be electrocuted. They had brought me here for execution.

  I followed their lead as they brought me to the chair, sitting me down and strapping my ankles and wrists into the tight restraints. My skin was still raw from the restraints on the table and the tight hold of the leather hurt more than it probably should have.

  But I did not say anything in protest.

  They moved my head into place on the back of the chair, strapping my forehead into another restraint, making it impossible for me to turn my head. I heard their boots stop as they positioned themselves behind me. Only two remained behind my chair. The other four left the room.

  After the door closed everything remained very still.

  I looked at the glass wall in front of me and saw a large, dark space. There was one table, similar to the ones in the lab, but it was positioned upright.

  There was something sparking in the back of my mind. A memory of a story, the one that Dana had told me…

  This was what had happened to Liam…to my uncle…to Dana…

  His lover was tortured to death in front of him. Following the script of his own testing, Dana was going to torture mine.

  I was about to see Mykail again.

  Of course, it would be the last stab to my heart after the horrible hallucinations and what had happened with Mark in my cell. I found myself rather weary of being hurt so badly. There was something about it now that was no longer sharp…it was too much for me to even take notice of…

  I was already hurting. What was a little more pain?

  But, when the door opened behind the glass, I did not see a winged man with the guards. It was a much smaller person, slight of frame and clearly a woman. I stared at the bag over her head, watching the guards and men in white coats lead her to the table, pushing her down heavily and strapping her in the same fashion I was secured.

  I stared, waiting for the bag to be removed so I could see who was in front of me. Despite the fact I had already come to terms with what I was about to see, I was getting extremely nervous.

  The bag was removed sharply, pulling her long black hair over her face as she slumped forward, her shoulders shaking.

  One of
the guards tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head up.

  My eyes went wide.

  “Eun…”

  Mark’s little sister was across from me, about to be tortured, all for the sake of making me like Dana. Still thinking clearly about how I had murdered Mark, I now remembered his sister, the last tie that he had to my life. She was at Dana’s mercy, about to be part in this horrible experiment to turn me into a Dana clone.

  “No…”

  How could I not be affected by this? How could I not be terrified realizing that Eun, my final tether to Mark, was going to be tortured in front of me? She was what Mark had endured so much for. He had been obedient to Dana only because of Eun. Now that he was gone, she was without protection.

  A voice piped over an intercom system reached my ears.

  “Can you hear us?” one of the scientists in the room asked as the guards exited, leaving the three scientists clad in white coats with the petite woman.

  “We can hear you,” one of the men responded, clicking the button on the side of his personal radio.

  We could hear them, but they could not hear us.

  “Alright, then we’re going to get started,” one woman nodded.

  “No…please, don’t…” I whispered.

  I saw two of the scientists go to a table and pick up a flat iron that came from a fireplace set. They walked to another stationary table and lit a fire, placing the iron over the blue flame. I pulled on my restraints, trying to get out of the confines of the chair and stop the torture before it began, but the leather straps cut into my wrist, pain weakening my muscles.

  The third scientist, the woman who was leading the torture, grabbed Eun’s jaw, pushing her fingernails into her face, forcing Eun’s teeth open, at which point she shoved a wad of cloth in her mouth to keep Eun from biting her tongue. The action was frighteningly similar to what I had done to Mark.

  “Don’t touch her!”

  How was it that Dana knew using Eun would get more of a reaction out of me than Mykail? How could he have possibly seen what happened to Mark? How could he have known? It wasn’t possible…

  The tip of the iron was glowing white as they pulled it away from the open flame, bringing it to the terrified Eun. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the approaching poker. Mine were also wide, frightened, trying to move the chair and wiggle my limbs out of the restraints.