Inferno

I've been here all my life, living in complete solitude. I've prepared for anything that comes my way, but not the human race. They care about nothing but themselves, and have no mercy. After finding my way into a dangerous situation, I'm forced to abandon all Ive ever known for a new feeling inside.

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6. Chapter Five

     After a night of complete darkness, I awake to find myself in the middle of an electric current. I glance to the switch by the table and see that it's in the middle.

     I wasn't aware that someone came in here while I was resting. The electricity zips across my body in every wave. I feel fried, as if my skin could fall off from the heat.

     My mind is charred, I can't think straight. How did I sleep when this was going on?

     Nearly ten minutes of the constant stream of currents, Chief Marley walks in. He doesn't say a word, he merely just collects a few papers and flips the switch.

     "Have you learned your lesson?"

     I glare at him with an expressionless face.
     "He will be back tonight, and the rest of the nights you decide to give me that look."

     My eyes shift downward but then something clicks in my mind. Hurley looks like Chief Marley! Their dark tousled hair, and their tall and thin frame. Their chiseled facial features also give away the resemblance.

     Just then, a team of 6 doctors parades in through the wide doorway, carrying pens and clipboards. I feel like a science experiment being studied.

     Eyes are all on me to see what I will do. One specific man steps forward and chooses a tool from the table. He chooses a small metal object with a handle. It has a button on the top and a metal ring on the bottom.

     I examine his movements and see that when he clicks the button, the ring becomes fiery red. He seems satisfied with the weapon, so he approaches me, pen and paper ready.

     I desperately wish I could back away now, the anxiety is finally reaching my brain. He lifts his arm and places the ring on the side of my torso.

     I feel no pain for the first few seconds because he fumbles with his position on the button. His thumb finds it and he clicks fast, as if he is afraid he will get hurt too.

     I feel it heat up quickly, and a burning sensation overwhelms me. I breath heavily but try not to hyperventilate. I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes in a failed attempt to ease the pain.

     He takes the instrument away, leaving a bright semi circle on my side. I feel the skin sizzle and mingle with the cool, damp air.

     He steps back into line, setting the tool down as he passes. Another doctor steps forward, as if this is some kind of choreographed torture session.

     She immediately reaches for a shiny metal nail and twirls it between her fingers. She steps forward and her presence alone can give you shivers down your spine. She holds her head high as she plunges the nail into the side of my arm.

     A familiar scene flashes in my mind, the day I was captured. The nail doesn't slide in as easily as the bullet did, but the woman perseveres. She presses it harder until it reaches something hard. 

     Without realizing it, I've regained some of my strength back. I feel my body pumping blood faster and faster to the wound.

     She lets go, and it remains in place. My skin is regenerating and healing around the metal before her eyes align to my shoulder.

     I squirm uncomfortably like a frog being dissected little by little. I never focused on the pain until this point, when the skin becomes tighter and tighter around the nail, trying to close the hole.

     She brings her face inches to the injury until she finds what words to write down.

     "This is incredible" she whispers.

     Her hazel eyes glance to mine, then back to the wound. She jots down some notes before stepping back into the line of doctors.

     Again, a doctor steps forward, but this time, I see something strange. His face is distorted, and his skin is eerily pale.

     When he brushes his messy hair away from his face, it reveals a nuclear attack. I've seen it all before, on the programs on my television at home. People like that survived a bombing done by the U.S. in Japan during World War II.

     My heart aches for him, because of the pain he has to endure to survive the tragedy. My sympathy soon vanishes as I feel something hot being splashed onto my hand.

     I look up to see it bubbling and sizzling. I feel it eating away at my bare hand. It's acid. It courses through my veins faster than I can react, leaving me no time to scream for help.

     I tug on the wire that holds me in with immense strength, hoping I can break free. My good hand is freed and I moan at the friction created by the pulling.

     I am working so fast that everyone in the room just stares wide-eyed. I manage to yank my injured hand out of the looped wire and undo the knots on my feet.

     I stumble off the platform, unable to keep my balance after being hung up for so long. I feel my hands come back to life, finally. It feels as if a thousand little needles are poking at the surface of my skin, desperate for blood to flow back in. I shake them wildly while people race towards me preventing an escape.

     I set my mind and focus on everything in slow motion. I steady my rapid breathing to a slow and conscious rate.

      When I feel the time is right, I stampede forward, dodging hands grabbing for me. Chief Marley stays calm, and it irks me. His most interesting subject is escaping and he doesn't seem to care. Wasn't it his plan to have me here all along?

     Just as I look back to wear I'm headed, a tall dark figure stands before me. I recognize his relentless stare and his chiseled jawbone.

     Hurley takes a step forward, towering over me unlike ever before. I've always been on a platform, hung up by wires. We've always been eye to eye, on the same level.

     His full frame threatens at least a foot above me. I try to think of a hunting method I use for large animals, hoping maybe it could work on him.

     He puts his hands on my shoulders and shoves me back through the crowd viciously. My mind is drawing a blank until I spot a long metal arrow on the floor.

     In the chaos, the table must have been overturned, the mass of tools lying on the cold tile floor. I shrug Hurley's hands off of my shoulders, but he won't budge. I ball my good hand into a fist and punch him as hard as I can in his stomach. 

     He doubles over in pain at my blunt blow. I fear I may have caused serious damage because of my exaggerated strength and agility, but that's not important.

     I dash over to the tools, searching for the giant arrow. I spot something glimmer by the platform and see the sharp tip. My feet take me as fast as I can, and I grab for the weapon.

     When my fingers are wrapped around it, I hold it up near my head. Although I'm used to a bow with the arrow, I take a chance with the sharp object.

     I reach Hurley's side just as all the frantic doctors pour out into the hallway. Father was right, men really are dangerous, cold-hearted killing machines.

     Chief Marley's expression changes from as hard as a stone, to a face full of fear. He leaves behind the line of doctors, turning the light off and shutting the door behind him.

     The dim light coming from the platform's "spotlight" eliminates the room with a white glow.

     I take advantage of Hurley's vulnerability and plunge the arrow into his back. His spine arches and he screams out in pain.

     One of his arms reaches for the arrow as I make my way to the door. But before I can pull the handle, something latches onto my wrist. It wraps itself tightly around my bad arm and yanks back quickly.

     "You animal!" He calls me.

     I don't care that I am an animal, the real insult would be to be called human. 

     He brings his fist into contact with my cheek, but it doesn't do anything. A small bruise forms around the cut he just made.

     Usually my body would automatically pump life saving chemicals to heal the wound, but this time my injuries are too numerous. I withstand the pain for a few more seconds before dodging another one of his blows.

     I bring my foot up between his legs, knowing every man's weakness. He backs away at the last second before my foot is brought up near his face.

     I slow my body's adrenaline flow, and calm myself, focusing on Hurley's movements. Again, as my senses are aware, he charges towards me seemingly in slow motion.

     He holds a knife, with the point towards me in his right hand. I run towards him at full speed and barrel over his left shoulder where the arrow is stuck.

     My hand brisks over his muscle where the weapon dug itself into. My fingers find their place and I rip it out of his shoulder blade as I land on my feet. 

     He groans and growls as I shuffle back, seeing blood pour from the wound. I drop it and it clatters to the floor.

     He looks up from me with his red rimmed eyes of hatred. I can sense he feels defeated.

     But before I can bring my concentration back to him, he is on top of me, forcing his weight into my tiny body. I trip backward and my head slams against the metal platform.

     A headache roars in my ears and the throbbing gets louder with every second. I moan aloud and Hurley smiles wickedly. 

     "I've got you now." He whispers.

     I try to squirm out of his grip but I seem to be slipping into a trance. I feel pressure behind my eyes, as if my head will explode any minute now.

     As Hurley struggles to get up with a bad back, I gather all my strength and pop to my feet. Dizziness takes control, but I balance somehow.

     He charges at me again in rage and violently puts the wire over my hands and feet. He takes a step back when he's done.

     "You can't get out now little monster."

    But when I try to focus, my eyes become hazy. The last thing I remember is him walking out the door.

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