A week in this hellhole. An entire week, with the same routine. No breakfast, no lunch, just sitting in the cell. I’ve learned that most of everyone is alone. I feel bad for them, honestly, having no one to talk to for half of the day. They must be going insane, well, more insane than I am. My seventh conditioning session approaches. I check the clock. It’s around 4PM. Quinn has been gone since three, so when they get back, I’ll have to go.

  Ugh.

  I dread this time. From what I heard, the first six conditionings are the easiest, but they bump it up by the seventh. Why? I have no idea.

  Quinn is thrown back into our cell. I look up from the floor and wave to them.

  ‘Good luck,’ they nod, before the intercom comes on once more.

  I stand once the first word is spit from that repulsing speaker, and exit the cell with the rest of the inmates in this hall.

  ‘Last name?’ the lady with the clipboard asks me once I’m in the cafeteria.

  I always happen to be the first one in, probably because everyone dreads it. I just want to get all of this over with.

  I go to respond to her, but it still feels like fire in my mouth. Ugh. How the hell am I supposed to do this?

  I stick out my tongue, hoping it will get the message across.

  ‘Oh–you’re the girl that got her tongue cut off? Idiot. Go to group two,’ she points me to another leader man. God, why are there so many men!?

  This time, I’m actually with people. Two women, another goddamn man, and a little girl that looks no older than eight. My heart shatters for this girl. She looks like she carries around a little stuffed animal. What sick fuck put her in here?

  ‘There are five of you, which means we’re splitting up. Only four to a room, unfortunately,’ the leader of this little group crosses his arms and stares at me for a moment.

  ‘Since you decided to fuck up the arrangement, I’m switching you to level three. Go over there,’ he shoves me to the right, where I’m met with only one boy. He looks to be about ten, and reminds me of Xia somehow. I can’t quite pinpoint why.

  ‘Let’s go, girls,’ this guy takes both of our shoulders roughly and starts walking us out of the cafeteria.

  We’re taken even farther into the hallway. Jesus, how long is this? I’ll have to explore once I kill every figure of authority inside of here.

  The door is already open for us, and inside, there are two beds. Ooh. An upgrade from the chairs.

  The little boy lets out a squeak, and tears fall from his eyes. Oh god. What are we going to do?

  ‘No! I can’t do the burn-beds again!’ He cries out as he brings him to one of the beds. He ties him up on the bed by the ankles and wrists, then makes a move for me.

  I don’t put up a fight. I probably could, but there’s no point. I’ll get taken and beaten the hell out of. I actually saw it three days ago, and I still haven’t fully recovered.

  The tying up part is nothing new. I experienced it for six days after all with the electric chair-esque conditioning.

  The name “burn-bed” inches its way into my brain. What the hell could that entail?

  The escort leaves the room, and is replaced by two other men. One of them, I don’t know. The other.

  My thighs clench together subconsciously, and my heart begins to race.

  No.

  No no no no no.

  This can not be happening.

  My breathing shallows, and my eyes blow wide as well.

  ‘Well well well, if it isn’t my beautiful baby girl…’ Kyle smirks. His hand wields a lighter, and the other wields a tiny knife, almost like a pocket knife.

  Tears prick my eyes. This is worse than any physical torture this whole establishment can muster.

  ‘Let us begin, shall we?’ his voice is soft, as if sort of regretful.

  Kyle approaches my bedside and takes the knife to my wrists. There’s already scars there, I can tell he sees them.

  What I didn’t expect, though, was for him to simply dig into my wrist with that knife. I cry out, and so does the boy next to me. The other man is doing this to him as well, I realize. I want to scream, cry, and vomit at the same time.

  As quickly as I was cut, I feel a warm tingle on my skin, then a blaze. Another scream leaves my lips. Holy shit. And I have to endure thirty minutes of this shit? Absolutely not. After thirty minutes, he has to run out of places to cut. Right?

  ‘Five more minutes, beautiful,’ Kyle keeps cutting me. My entire left arm is completely and utterly covered in cuts, while half of my right arm is as well.

  It hurts me to say that he absolutely knows how to make space. With each cut, comes a lick of the flames as well, instantly closing the wound.

  The little boy next to me is hardly crying, now that he’s actually on the bed. I’m pathetic, crying over this when he’s barely even phased. Who am I kidding? He’d probably done this countless times before. This is my first time. Why am I comparing myself to a little kid anyway?

  It’s finally over. A five minute rest time beckons to me with open arms. I simply lay there, breathing deeply. It’s starting to hurt a little less to breathe from my mouth. I still can’t quite speak though. The little boy next to me turns his head and looks at me.

  ‘Don’t worry. My mama will come save us. She promised she would,’ he mutters quietly.

  ‘No she won’t,’ the man carrying out this little boy’s conditioning shuts him down immediately.

  ‘Yes she will! You don’t understand!’ he argues back.

  ‘No she won’t, DJ. Now shut up before I cut your break short.’

  That seems to shut him up.

  Five minutes is over. I know this because Kyle doesn’t even give me a single warning, before diving back in. He starts at my ankles, cutting and burning. He’s enjoying it. I can’t see his face, but I can feel it. The injuries move up and up, to his original prize. The one he claimed without asking a week ago. I want to move, to scream, to kill. I can’t do jack-shit.

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  The knife reaches closer and closer. He’s purposefully spreading out his cuts for this, I know it. Please, for the love of god, let this be over! Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Stay strong, Tomi. You’ll kill this guy eventually.

  ?

  Those last thirty minutes felt like hours, hell, even days. At least dinner wasn’t so bad afterward. Now, I lay on the floor of my cell, while Quinn sits in their corner.

  ‘So, how was conditioning?’ Quinn asks, crawling over to my spot on the floor.

  I sit up with a groan, and grab my paper and pencil. I still can’t speak, unfortunately.

  ‘They moved me to level three instead.’

  Quinn sucks in air through their teeth, visibly wincing.

  ‘Ouch. I couldn’t imagine going from level one to three just like that,’ they shake their head in disbelief, ‘what did you do to deserve that?’

  I roll my eyes and keep writing.

  ‘There’s only four to a room, and there were five in group two.’

  Quinn softly takes my arm and rolls the paper sleeve up. The wounds and scars on my arms match theirs now. Like some sort of sick, twisted binding.

  ‘I can feel you growing stronger, though. That could be a plus,’ they start to speak a little louder. Wow. This is the most I’ve heard Quinn talk since I’ve been here.

  I tilt my head. Now that they’re speaking, I wonder what their life before this hellhole was. Mine wasn’t all that great, personally.

  ‘Before you got in here, what was it like in your life?’

  I point to the question on the paper, and gesture for them to answer.

  ‘Well…’ their voice trails off, ‘I really don’t remember all that much,’ they shrug.

  ‘Come on. You and I both know that’s bullshit,’ My gaze hardens once I finish writing.

  ‘I’m being honest. I really don’t remember that much,’ they repeat. I simply roll my eyes. I guess I just have to believe them. For now.

  ‘You have been off recently. What is wrong?’ Quinn tilts their head slightly, glancing at me up and down.

  They notice my tensing once their eyes accidentally glance over my groin.

  ‘Oh. Has someone… you know,’ they gesture down there, and I flinch.

  I nod frantically, shoulders tensing further, as if bracing for it to happen again. I know for a fact that Quinn wouldn’t do that, but my body doesn’t quite know.

  ‘Who?’ They ask bluntly. The air grows heavy around them. I can almost taste the rage emanating off of them.

  I scribble down that awful name onto the piece of paper, and their eyes darken significantly.

  ‘I have heard that name amongst the others. I did not know he went for the fresh ones as well,’ they shake their head.

  ‘What? Is he known around here?’ I show them the paper, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes. I’ve heard he’s known to prey on the women that come here,’ Quinn rolls their eyes and their nails dig into palms.

  I scoff. Not only has he been doing that shit to me, but he’s a repeated offender. I’m going to kill him, that much I already knew. Now that idea has been solidified, carved in stone, if you will.

  My gaze falls to the burn scars that nail the reminders of that man into my very soul. He’s laid his mark on me, in more ways than one. The only way to remove those marks is to remove the marker.

  How should I do it, though? That I’ll have to decide when the time comes.

  I could snag the lighter from his pocket and burn him alive. Ooh! Or I could take his knife and stab him in the balls. All of these are too merciful, yet I can’t think of any other alternative.

  I look up to the ceiling, hoping the blank canvas will provide an answer from the heavens. Actually, for something like this, I would need an answer from the pits of hell. I look to the floor instead.

  ‘That’s a murderous look,’ Quinn observes.

  Yes. No shit, Sherlock. I look at them and nod.

  ‘You’re planning to murder Kyle? Good luck,’ they nod, a hint of respect flashing through their stormy gray eyes.

  I spot the very victim of my murder plan strolling through the hall, glancing into each glass wall. He’s a fox in a hen-hound. Foxes can get killed easily if the farmer gets the shotgun, though. Shame I don’t have a shotgun, otherwise he would have been dead long ago.

  ‘Hi, beautiful,’ Kyle shoves his face against the wall and blows a kiss against it.

  ‘You’re kissing a wall,’ Quinn raises an eyebrow. They do not seem amused.

  ‘I bet she feels my love though,’ he retorts, blowing another kiss.

  My lip curls into a sneer. There is no way I could ever feel love from this fucker.

  I abruptly stand from my seat on the floor, and shove my palm right up to his face, as if I were punching it. He actually flinches back, and I have to fight myself to hold back a snicker.

  Even if I can’t hit him outright yet, this is a perfect substitute.

  I sit back down as casually as I can muster, as if I didn’t just almost die cackling like an evil witch.

  ‘Bitch. You’ll pay for that later…’ Kyle mutters before continuing his stroll down the hallway.

  I’ll be in my cell for the entire night, now. Unless I have to use the bathroom sometime tonight. He could do something then. Hm.

  If he tries, though, I’ll punch his lights out.

  ?

  I just had to use the bathroom.

  That’s all. I had to take a piss.

  When he said I’d pay for it later, I didn’t think he meant this!

  I let out a bloodcurdling scream, one that probably just woke up half of the inmates in my hall. One friend. One friend I had in this place, and that sick fuck had to take them away from me!

  Quinn’s lifeless form hung sprawled on the wall, held up by safety pins. How the hell are they being held up by safety pins!?

  Two of these pins are secured right in their pupils, while hundreds, if not thousands more intrude their figure.

  Blood drips from their form, leaving a puddle beneath them. Some of the crimson stains the wall, adding a pop of color to the otherwise lifeless room. They’re being juiced like a goddamn orange, by the looks of it.

  I approach the corpse, before collapsing next to it. I can’t cry, for some reason. My tear glands have been dried up, sucked of all their worth, along with the rest of me.

  With Quinn gone, I have no more use here. Sure, I have to have the V-Gene activated, but after that, who knows what the hell could happen to me!?

  At least with Quinn, I could have some light in the shadow.

  I feel sick. I can’t vomit, though. Not in front of them. That would dishonor Quinn even further. They already died in such a terrible, unholy manner. I can’t go on and denounce their name anymore.

  I lost another person. I can’t keep letting people get so close to my heart. It’s a curse, I believe. The people I get close to, all of them will die. I think back to Finn, and Xia, hell, even Lucas. I didn’t like him all that much, but I was still close with him.

  All of them will die. I can’t fathom that thought. Mama too. God, I hope she’s alright. I haven’t contacted her in what feels like decades.

  With all of these realizations, all of these disasters piling into my head at once, something inside me snaps.

  My sanity is a rope that’s been shaved down with Heki’s death, then almost dying, Remi’s death, constant, constant torture, and now this!? I feel the same anger fester within me, the same anger that was formed in that first moment, the first moment loss lay her cold, dead fingers on me.

  It hangs on by a mere thread, one, singular thread. How is it still standing? I really have no clue.

  I look up at Quinn once more, their lifeless, pin-ful body filling my head with horrible thoughts. I’ll kill them all. Every. Last. One.

  A faint snap echoes through my entire being. The snap of that last thread.