- 05 -

                                    

                                          
My shoulders scream in pain as I'm dragged by my elbows to a new room.
                          
For hours, I yelled about the blood in my room, tearing off the gauze they tried to wrap the wound in, tracing the smears on the walls. Whoever was watching the button cameras must have thought I went insane, and that's exactly what I wanted them to think.
                          
More guards had shoved their way into the room and cuffed my hands behind my back. I pretended to fight them and the crunch of one guard's bone was satisfying, but it wasn't what I'm here for. I squirm in their grasp. My heels drag on the floor as my elbows are wrenched backward, but my eyes are up and alert.
                          
The walls look like the inside of my cell, but we pass another door quickly. There's a clipboard attached next to the handle, and I scan the paper clipped to it. Whoever is in there, his name is Noah, he's a Category 6, and he's an omni-linguist. There are some notes scrawled in red pen at the bottom and I can only read the words ramblings and bribes before I'm dragged along. My hair dangles in front of my eyes and I twist my neck to try to get it off, but by the time I can see decently again, I'm down to the Category 3's.
                          
These rooms actually have glass walls. Glass walls. Well, it's only one, but I can't even imagine not having a solid metal door and four opaque walls to keep you company. Maybe he can see his reflection. Maybe it's single-sided glass. But the way I lock eyes with the kid on the other side makes me think it's not. He can see straight through.
                          
My eyes flick to his description. Alec, Category 3, superhuman tracking. I tilt my head and he slams his hands against the cage, following me until I pass his room. I stare at him until I can't see him anymore, wondering if they were really training a tracker.
                          
I make a mental note. He might be useful later.
                          
I pass the 2's and 1's, both of which have glass walls. No one looks at me; everyone wears a metal collar around their neck, identical to mine. I spot the girl from my dream, Emma, the girl who remembers everything. She looks it, too. Her skin is slick with sweat and she's breathing hard, eyes bloodshot, hair stringy. She's not okay, but she knows everything. And I need to talk to her.
                          
They made this easy for me when they throw me in a cell just down the hall, barely ten feet. I can see her cage, even though I can't see her, which means if she comes to the front, she'll see me.
                          
I take a moment to inspect my new cell. It's the white walls I'm used to, but the sleep shell looks brand new, and the walls are stamped with black letters reading "containment room 01." That's good. Everybody is where they need to be, except for me.
                          
They slam the door behind me. My room doesn't have glass walls, but that's fine. As long as I'm close to Emma. Glass walls would make this easier, but it'll have to do.
                          
I take a seat in the middle of the floor, twisting a strand of my hair in my fingers. After a few moments, I glance up as though inspecting the ceiling. "Hello?" I call, as a test.
                          
"Number 16, we request your silence for the time being until your room sanitization is completed. Thank you for your compliance." There's a small click as the automated voice cuts out.
                          
Perfect. That's exactly what I wanted. I give a small nod of confirmation in case anyone is watching me and go back to fiddling with my hair. I wait, counting. I like to think that restraint is my biggest strength, and it's especially important in someone who can control anything or anyone just by thinking about it. There are no fancy hand motions, even if I like to pretend; it's all in the mind. That's what I tell myself as I steady my breathing. It's all in the mind. It's all in the mind.
                          
And then I scream.
                          
I scream like they're killing me. I scream for the sixteen years I've spent in this pristine facility with twenty dark secrets. I scream until I feel like my throat is bleeding. I scream until I can't breathe, and then I scream some more, until I'm seconds from passing out.