by B L Teschner
“It’s, it’s not mine!” Layla tried to tell him.
But he wasn’t hearing it. He took Layla by the wrist and yanked her up from the ground. “You’re coming with me!”
“No!” I yelled. “It’s not her fault!”
“And I’m taking you too,” he told Jill as he reached down with his other hand and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her up.
“I didn’t take it!” Jill cried; it was the first time I had ever seen her show any sign of vulnerability.
Troy’s hand left Jill’s shirt and clamped around her wrist. “Let’s get to walkin’, ladies,” he said as he pulled them along.
“No!” Layla screamed, trying unsuccessfully to yank away from him, looking back at me with desperation. “Millie! Don’t let them take me!”
I ran after them into the hall and took Layla’s hand, pulling her toward me. “Please, Troy, it’s not Layla’s fault!”
“Don’t take me,” Jill pleaded with tears in her eyes. “It’s all Millie’s fault; she took the knife from the cafeteria!”
“I highly doubt that,” Troy replied. He yanked them further along, ripping Layla’s hand away from mine as he eyed me over his shoulder. “And if you don’t stop interfering, I’ll be coming for you next!”
I sobbed in the dimly-lit hall as I watched Troy pull Layla further away from me. Tears streamed down her face, taking with them the mascara she hadn’t washed off from the day. We both knew where she was going, what was about to happen to her. My eyes stayed connected with hers until he pulled her and Jill down the flight of stairs, disappearing to the first floor.
I didn’t waste any time running to Toby’s room. “Toby!” I whispered loudly in the room of boys.
My call startled him and he sat up on his elbow. “Millie? I’m over here.”
I flew to his bed. “Oh my god, Toby…”
“What’s wrong?”
I fell beside him and nuzzled my face into his chest. “It’s Layla! They took Layla!”
“What? What happened?”
“Jill wanted my knife so I gave it to her and Layla ended up getting into a fight with her and took it back. Troy came in and saw them with it and he took both of them!”
His warm hand soothed me, running up and down my back. “Shh, it’s okay.” He pushed off his elbow and sat up in bed. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I don’t want to get caught!”
“We’ll be careful.” He looked over at Connor, who was sleeping soundly in the bed next to him. “I don’t want to wake anyone up.”
I nodded and stood so he could throw the covers back and stand up as well. “Where should we go?”
“Club room,” he suggested.
The club room was empty but was still dimly lit by the remaining log that had been left to burn in the fireplace. The air was warm and inviting, and the sound of the wind outside seemed gentler, settling down with the passing of the storm.
Toby pulled out a chair at the corner of a table. “Thanks,” I sniffled while sitting down.
He took the one beside me and swiveled it in my direction, our knees touching when he sat down. Neither of us offered to move. “I’m so sorry about Layla.”
“Me too.”
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not your fault.”
My lip quivered; he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Yes it is.”
“No, Millie.” His hand found mine that was resting on my thigh. “We’re in a bad place; we all are. And now we know that it’s destined to happen to each and every one of us eventually.”
His face was unfocused as my eyes clouded over with tears. “But we were supposed to escape. We promised Dwayne we would get him out of here, and we were all supposed to escape together. The Virtuous Five, remember?”
“I know.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my free hand. “You heard Martha talk about that alarm around the property.” I scoffed, looking down at my lap, which made more tears fall free from my eyes. “We wouldn’t have a chance anyway.”
“That’s how the knife was going to help us,” he acknowledged while giving my hand a quick squeeze.
“And I even messed that up.”
“No, no.” His hand left mine and his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I sniffled as he came closer and kissed the side of my head. “None of this is your fault. Like I said, we’re in a bad place. But, we’re still going to try our hardest to get out of here.”
“That’s not going to happen, Toby.”
His other hand came up and cupped my chin, tilting my head up to face him. “I want you to promise me something, Millie. I want you to promise me that whatever happens, that you’ll try to get out of here. Even if it means leaving me behind.”
“What?” I shrieked. “No!”
“Shh.” His hand thoughtfully caressed my chin. “If something happens to me, you still need to get out of here. You and Connor. And I want you to run past the cemetery and make it to the trees in the distance.”
“But—”
“Promise me.”
My eyes bled tears as they searched his. “I will,” I promised. “I’ll get Connor out of here. We’ll run.”
“Good.”
He leaned in and placed his soft lips against mine. It felt good kissing him; it felt like warmth and safety and trust and… love. That’s when it hit me: In less than two weeks I found someone who proved to be more loyal to me than anyone in my life had ever been before. From the beginning he had been by my side, fighting for my safety. I pulled back and looked into the blue pools of his eyes, soaking up the sudden awareness that I loved this boy.
“Toby, I…”
“I love you too, Millie.”
Our lips crashed together. Knowing he felt the same way about me as I did for him ignited a new willingness to survive this hellish place. But I needed to survive it with him.
We moved to the floor and held each other as our kissing became more intense. But it wasn’t a scene out of a romance novel. It was “I’m scared” kissing; it was “I don’t want to lose you” kissing. But before we could go any further, the heavy door flew open and hit the wall with a loud bang.
We shrieked as Steven came barreling toward us, shining a bright flashlight right in our eyes. “What do you think you two are doing?”
Toby stood up, holding his hands out if front of him in defense. “Nothing, sir. We were just going back to our rooms.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he scoffed, keeping the light blaring right in Toby’s eyes.
Toby squinted. “No, no we don’t.”
“My brother told me he already warned you once about being in here. Martha’s not gonna like this, not gonna like what you’re in here doing. I ought to take you both downstairs for being promiscuous!”
“No!” we shouted in unison.
“Get up!” Steven ordered me.
I listened, standing up beside Toby. “Please, we’re so sorry.”
He aimed the flashlight at the door. “Let’s go!”
“It was my fault!” Toby cut in. “I forced myself on her.”
“What?” My head jerked back and forth between the two of them. “No! No he’s just saying that—”
His light went back to Toby’s face. “Is that true, boy? Are you telling me that you forced yourself on her?”
“No!” I couldn’t stress loud enough. “He didn’t!”
Toby swallowed hard. “Yes I did. I, I don’t really know why she’s trying to protect me, but I did.”
“Let’s go.” He grabbed Toby’s arm and ushered him to the door.
Toby looked back over his shoulder at me. “I’ll be okay,” he tried to assure me with a lie. “I’ll be okay.”
“No!” My hands came to my trembling lips. “I, I love you!”
Steven yanked him through the doorway and shoved him ahead. “Get back to your room!” he warned me, leaving me alone with the log that had been left crackling in the fireplace.
Fift
een
Toby
The lights flickered in the hall as Steven opened the closet door. I didn’t think my heart could race more than it already was, but I was wrong. As I saw the carpet already peeled back and the grate pulled over to the side, it nearly palpitated out of my chest. I couldn’t figure out if knowing my fate made it scarier than not knowing what was about to happen to me. Either way, I couldn’t do a thing about it. I only hoped I would remember Millie in the same way once they were through with me.
The only comfort I had was knowing that Millie had the keys to escape with Connor. Still, the knife was now gone, so I didn’t know how she would pull it off without a weapon to defend herself. But Millie was strong and resourceful, even though she probably didn’t think that. I sure did. Hopefully she would sneak back into the kitchen and steal another one before they got to her. Hopefully.
“Down the ladder,” Steven grumbled beside me.
I didn’t even argue; I knew the taser was on him, and I didn’t want to go through what they put Dwayne and some of the other kids through. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I sat down on the edge of the hole and planted my feet on the rungs of the ladder, turning around and grabbing onto the familiar feeling of cold rebar.
“Taking it like a man,” he called down to me as my feet hit the cement floor. He quickly descended and landed beside me. “Most kids freak out when we make them come down here. They don’t stop with the questions, either.” He slapped my back like we were pals. “Thanks for making it easy on me.” He nodded up the hall in the same direction Millie and I had explored. “After you.”
My eyes glossed over as I walked ahead, passing the unlit rooms. I was afraid of what was in store for me. No, I was absolutely terrified. But keeping Millie out of this basement was worth it to me, and I would do it over and over again just to give her a chance to escape. Sometimes going through pain yourself is easier than watching someone you love experience it. I would rather have them perform their sick experiments on me than to bear the thought of Millie being subjected to them.
We turned the corner and continued walking the hall where Dwayne was being kept. Every step we took echoed around us, and I tried making my feet heavier to create more noise so I could draw him to his dimly-lit window. But as we passed his door his face never appeared in the square.
Hands beating from behind the door ahead—the one Millie and I had just so recently hid behind—attracted my attention. I knew that voice. Layla.
“Get me out of here!” she screamed as we came closer.
“Layla!” I called back. I rushed to the door and met eyes with my friend. Her mascara was cried down her cheeks and her lipstick was gone; I had never seen her look so bare.
“Toby!” she blurted, her expression morphing from fear for herself to fear for me. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s enough!” Steven growled behind me. “Don’t make me get the taser out!” He gave me a hard shove, which moved me ahead of the door.
“No!” Layla screamed from behind the glass. “Leave him alone!”
“Awe, she likes you,” he chuckled behind me. “I’m sure you’ve already gotten to know that one, too, huh? She gets around.”
I bit my tongue. As much as I wanted to defend Layla, I was in no position to. I had to stay as alert as possible, and being taken to the floor by a taser gun would not help that.
“Stop here,” he ordered when we made it to the last door. “Dr. Sigtile and Martha are on their way down to open this door. And just a warning: Martha isn’t too happy to be working this late. There’ve been a lot of disturbances this evening and she’s had enough.”
“Well why don’t you just put me in a room and handle me later?”
“Rooms with a bathroom are full. That’s why I told my brother to get Martha on the way down here; we need to deal with you now.”
“I can pee in a bucket.”
“Martha insists on every patient having a toilet.”
“Then put me in with Layla,” I pleaded.
He shook his head. “No can do. The program offers individualized treatment. Martha is a stickler for adhering to that promise; throwing you into a treatment room with another patient would be going against that in her eyes.”
“Treatment room,” I scoffed. “More like prison cell.”
“Call them what you want, our success rate is one hundred percent. We’ve been doing things this way for years, and we don’t plan on changing anything.”
He looked down the hall and I glared at the back of his head. “You’re gonna get caught eventually, you know that?”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says.” I erased the dirty look from my face as he looked over at me. “Still hasn’t happened yet. And besides,” he shrugged, “we’re doing this country a favor. We get some real sickos in here that we turn completely around. Do you know how many murderers we’ve probably taken off the streets? How many rapists?”
“Well I’m not a murderer or a rapist.”
His eyes narrowed to ugly slits as he leaned into me, his warm, stale coffee breath blowing from his nostrils. “Says the boy who just admitted to forcing himself on the girl upstairs.”
There was a commotion down the hall, and a long couple of minutes later, Martha and Dr. Sigtile came around the corner. She was in her usual attire, but her hair was down and brushed, it’s length hitting her at shoulder level. Her lipstick was also missing, which made her lips blend in with the pastiness of her wrinkled skin.
“Mr. Red,” she chirped with a deep scowl. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” She pushed between me and Steven and leaned down, sticking the key that was hanging from her neck into the lock. After it clicked, she pushed open the heavy metal door and went in past us. “This day has been awful, just awful!”
Steven shoved me inside as bright lights blasted on around us. It was an operating room. I turned to make a run for it but Steven stopped me in my tracks. “Not so fast,” he chuckled while turning me back around to face Martha and her brother.
“You can’t do this!” I barked. I swiveled and threw a punch at Steven’s face, which he blocked before it could make contact. Out of nowhere, a feeling came over me that I had never experienced ever before in my life. Electrical current felt as if it were surging through my veins and taking place of my blood. When it finally stopped, I fell to the floor, thankful that the agony I was feeling had been relieved.
Martha’s heels landed beside my head. “You can only imagine how upset I was to be awoken and told that you had tried to sexually assault another patient. And then when I found out it was Millie Charles… That girl does not deserve your abuse! I’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t receive any more of it from you.” She tsked somewhere above me. “You’re a pot head and a sexual offender! I’m glad we’re taking care of your poor soul now instead of leaving you to do more bad here in the program.” Steven reached over and grabbed a hold of my shirt with both hands, yanking me up from the floor. “Trust me,” Martha continued, “you’ll be such a wonderful member of society after this. You’ll do nothing but rave about our program to your friends and family once you get out. I promise.”
“Can we get this over with?” Dr. Sigtile lazily asked. “I’m tired.”
“Yes, please get on with it,” Martha replied.
Steven brought me to the operating table that was covered with a crisp white sheet. Everything was so clean in this room, which was a stark contrast from the other rooms. The walls were void of the old peeling paint; the floors had newer tiles. There was a large medical-grade lamp hanging above us, angling down at the table and illuminating a tray of instruments off to the side. I trembled as I saw what they were: a small metal hammer, some sort of thin metal device—a clamp maybe—with a screw on one end and rounded tips on the other, and two surgical needles that must have been at least five inches long.
“Lay down,” Dr. Sigtile ordered.
“Please,” I mumbled, still trying to regain my strength after bei
ng tasered. “Please…”
“Shh,” Martha shushed beside me. “This will go a lot smoother if you just let us do our job.”
Steven and the doctor simultaneously fastened restraints around my ankles. “Wha—No!” I pushed the tray away, knocking it over with a loud crash and sending the instruments to the tiled floor.
“Great!” Dr. Sigtile huffed. “Those were already sanitized and ready for the procedure!”
“Get a handle on him!” Martha ordered Steven, who immediately came up to my side and laid across my chest, holding me down while Martha tried to fasten a restraint around my wrist. My arms felt like jelly as they failed to fend her off. She got the first one secured and Steven stood back and grabbed my other, quickly tightening on the restraint. “Clean the instruments!” Martha ordered her brother as she stiffened her posture and smoothed her hair back, trying to collect herself.
I looked up at her. “Martha, please,” I begged like a child. “Please just let me go. I, I won’t tell a soul what you do here, I promise.”
Her bare lips pursed as she leaned over me. “What we do here, Mr. Red, is fix sinners like yourself. We’re trying to correct your behaviors for you, at no effort on your part at all. You should be thanking us for making it so easy for you.”
A tear fell away from the corner of my eye and trickled down the side of my face. “I, I’m not a sinner.” My head shook back and forth. “I’m not; I promise. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.”
“We’re going to make you respectful members of society,” she went on. “Would you like to know how we’re going to do that?”
“Please just let me go,” I whispered, my words thick with saliva.