The Infinity Project

Waking up in a hospital, being spoon-fed lies be her mysterious captors, being stuck with a group of teenagers, with no memories of her life before, but flickering remnants of a car crash. Things aren't looking good for Kira. On top of that she has to deal with sudden powers, and a mysterious dark force that has taken hold of her.
With betrayal looming at every corner, can Kira save herself and her friends, or die trying?


4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4


I don't remember falling asleep, until I awake. The first time since I've been here, a faint sunlight streaks in through the high up, barred up window. It's dirty, mild, barely enough to call light, but it's till there. A faint slanting beam, drifting down into this room. 

For the first time, it's not Dr. Saleron's over-exaggerated knocking that wakes me up, but my own will.

…What? Something's not right. Well, wronged than usual. Something is off, in a different way than I've grown accustomed to. 

I blink, and the room is suddenly filled with a surplus of light. Blinding, vicious, white light. Too much… I groan, and feel a hand tighten around my wrist, hauling me out of bed. 

“Hurry!” A voice hisses, one I do not recognize. A monstrous voice, a soft, mother's voice. Filled with anger and love, hate and protection. I am suddenly through the doorway, the log still not ceasing. A pounding begins echoing through my head. 

I fall to my knees, and that hand around my wrist continues to drag me, still pulling me along no matter how much I kick and scream. I yell to stop, but it doesn't. 

“Come on!” The voice yells, anger straining it. Anger, not anything you can call human. It's grip is like iron.

Like a metal cuff around my aching wrist, attached to a chain that I'm pulled by.

“No! No! No!” I shout. Trying to break free, I twist and turn, kicking out, flailing. The panic is a strange one, mutes and amplified at the same time. 

I just know I need it to end. 

I awake to Dr. Saleron pounding on my door. 

It was just a dream. No sunlight, no light at all, other than the flickering of the ancient LED bulb. 

“Come on!” Dr. Saleron exclaims, exasperation filling her voice. I flinch, the memories of the dream flickering back. But they're already fading, growing distant, falling away, leaving my mind in ease. Or, in a different torment. 

Dr. Saleron leads me to the room I originally awoke in, signaling for me to sit on the rickety bed. I comply, watching as she prepares an injection in silence. It's different than before, not a clear or bluish one, but a thick, blackish one. 

“This is going to hurt.” She proclaims, and I swallow back my nausea, refusing to let the tears fall. 

It's over in a matter of seconds, but the pain is excruciating. Fire, fire and ice. It tears me apart, and I let the tears fall. 

“What are you doing to me…!?” I choke out. 

“I'm making you whole!” I barely hear her answer, tinged with madness. More than tinged, drenched. 

I feel a scream rising, but then everything goes black. Terrible, soul-festering darkness descends upon me. 

The last thing I see is Dr. Saleron’s face, a malicious grin stretched across it, grey eyes wild. 


When I awake, everything is blurry. My head pounds. I'm strapped down to a bed, my chest constricted by both pain and stiff leather binds. 

Someone doesn't want me to get free. 

My cheeks are sticky with tears, my eyes stinging from those yet to fall. I swallow, my mouth almost too dry to preform the task, and taste blood and vomit. 

I attempt to twist my head, but my neck lets out a flash of pain, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from screaming. Agony races up and down each of my limbs, each nerve being set on fire than left to burn. And it's not a good fire, like the one of exhilaration, it is a dark fine, made up of pain and wrath and power. I take a breath, lungs aching. 

I take it slowly. First, I wiggle my finger. Minimum pain, only a faint tingling in my arm. Then I clench my hand into a fist, and the tingling becomes a roar, but I grit my teeth and push though, waiting for the fire in my arm to burn out. 

Then I clench my other fist. Bite down hard on my tongue, so hard I taste blood. 

Unclench. A yip of pain escapes, my will finally slipping, though just a fraction. The noise is nothing compared to the howl that had built up. 

Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. Soon, the pain begins to wear away, and I let my hands go still, instead focusing on my breathing. It's more painful. 

In. Out. In. Out. Each breath is a different type of pain, across my chest, in my ribs, in my lungs. Different fires, different ices. My lungs feel like they are filled with rocks, and each breath causes those rocks to shift and tear at the soft lung-flesh.  

Boredom has always been my enemy, but now it is a personal plague. With nothing to do put convince myself that letting put that mighty billow of anguish is not worth it. 

I give up. I don't—

Footsteps. The clink of a key, the turn of a rusted doorknob. 

“Hello.” A voice, familiar. But my mind, aching and drugged up, refuses to register it. 

“Hergph.” I grumble, my best attempt at hello. 

A dark chuckle, a horrifying sound that greets my ears, like nails down a chalkboard, grinding into my skull. Worse than that, it rips my skull open and plays with my brains.

“And how are you doing?” The voice, I recognize it now. Aliza Cunning. The person who runs the twisted business. 

“Gerphh.” This is supposed to be good. 

Another dark chuckle, and I force my eyes, which perceive nothing but faint blurs, to focus, allowing me to analyze Aliza Cunning’s falsely Beautiful face. 

“I hear the first time on the booster can be harsh.” She states. 

First time? First time?? Did that mean there'd be more?? 

“Thash furchhs surhh.” I spit, which translates to that's for sure. Whatever these drugs are, I don't like them. 

“You'll get your next, and last, shot in two days time. It should hurry this process right along.” My mind doesn't register its words, to panicked over having to go through this again. 

“Whighsh? Whighsh agh thidsh?” Why? Why all this?

“I'm sorry sweetie, you're going to have to speak clearer.” Aliza taunts, then slips out the door, leaving me tied up and trembling. 


Eventually, Dr. Saleron comes and lets me free. I was not expecting her to, I was expecting to die tied to this bed. 

By now, the pain has mostly subsided, and I manage to walk. But there is a dark plague hovering just beneath my consciousness, and I feel fear build inside me for what's to come. 

Dr. Saleron puts her hand on my shoulder as she leads me to the gym. I stare at the mats that are laid out, arranged into a fighting ring, the rest of the group lined up around its edges. 

Dr. Kurran watches, gesturing to one of them, but I cannot see for his hefty form blocks my view.

“Go.” Dr. Saleron's dark command rings through me, as my vision narrows and darkens, thoughts growing sluggish, as that dark plague is forced to the surface. Called to the surface, by Dr. Saleron's commanding voice.


…Why is there blood on my hands? Why does Wayne—Wind, stand poised over me, fear anger and regret shimmering in his startling emerald eyes? Why does he whimper faintly at the sight of me? Why do I feel like I've just done a terrible thing?

Why do I lie on the ground, head pounding, mouth feeling as if it's been stuffed fool of cotton? 

Why does Dr. Saleron grimace as I haul myself up, nearly crying over the blood that clings to my hands, my arms? 

Why is Wind bleeding so heavily from his temple, his nose. Why is there a red blossom across his shirt? Why do my knuckles ache so much? 

“I'm sorry!” I gasp, chocking on my own voice. What'd just happened? I done something… terrible. I just can't remember what. Because it wasn't me. It was a twisted, new me. 

But it wasn't me, it was that darkness, the vile black that shrouded the bare edges of my mind, even now. 

“Two days.” Dr. Saleron states, a threat. A promise. 

I should feel fear, anger, anguish, but instead only a mild numbness as the darkness threatens to rise again. 

I stare into Wimd’s crystalline green eyes, pure like fresh emeralds. My voice is a hoarse rasp, like there's rocks grovelling in my throat, as I choke out seven words.

“Don't let the darkness claim me again!” 

Then I stumble away, on my shaking feet. I flicker out of existence, then back again, landing behind Dr. Saleron. 

Part of me feels drained, another, energized. I do it again, flashing away so that I'm closer to the far wall. 

Then again, and again. Joy, sheer joy surges through me, a blissful feeling envelops my shattered mind, only forced to a halt when Dr. Saleron shamelessly grabs me, forcefully wrestling me away, locking me back up. 

Pushing me to the bed, tying me up. 

“I'll be back when it's time.” She whispers, her voice unnervingly soft. I guess it makes sense, whatever she's done to me must have earned my a place in her twisted, blackened heart. 

Where I cry, until my stream of tears grows large enough to make Niagara Falls bow down in submission. 

My pillow, thin and threadbare as it is, becomes soaked through, and despite the loose bonds holding me down, a struggle to move it around and find a dry spot. 

I'm back in my cursed room, tied down by these cursed ropes. 

A word most foul escapes my lips, enough to make even the harshest blush. 

My tears suddenly all used up, I bury underneath the scratchy sheets, willing my way into sleep, forcing my way into that place beneath consciousness, dreaming of what happened when that blackness took over. 

Dr. Saleron did something terrible to me, and I'm afraid I might be beyond repair. Worse than afraid, I know it with a loathing certainty. 

But I refuse to give up yet, because along with Dr. Saleron’s leading, crazed face, I see Wind’s gentle, caring one. I see his skin, pale as a ghostly moon, his eyes, glittering like emeralds set in white stone. His hair, darker than even the darkness around my mind, but a good kind of dark. 

I yearn for him to be near me, for him to hold me in his sturdy arms, for me to rest against him, for us to whisper into the long of the night. 

Not what most girls would want. I want a friendship, a closeness. No kissing, no removing of the clothes. I just want to feel someone's sturdy presence against my own frail one.

What had happened today? What was going to happen in the future? I realize, as I reflect, digging down within myself to that traitorous place of hidden feelings and buried secrets, that I have almost no hope left, it is a flashlight in the darkness, flickering before finally guttering out. 

I know that whatever happens, whatever secrets are formed in this place, that no matter what, the world will keep turning. The sun will still shine, the stars will still rest distant in the night sky. The seasons will swing by, and the rest of the world will live on, content in their ignorance. 

In that moment, I feel so incredibly, terribly small, insignificant. But resolve hardens inside me, the motel stone that burned at my core slowly solidifying, a sense of purpose filling me. 

I will knock the sun from it's never-ending course. I will rip those stars from the sky, and rearrange them to suit me. I will change the seasons, I will make summer into winter and fall into spring. 

I will do something, and it will make the earth teeter in all that emptiness, like it were no more than merely a cheap, plastic globe. 





Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...