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?


8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8


“I was… practicing, I guess you could say. I couldn't sleep, so I started teleporting about. I got lost and stopped paying attention to where I was going, then all of a sudden I was in a dark room, that once the lights turned on revealed it was an office.” I blurt, not bothering to pause for breath between sentences.

“So you're saying it was an accident?” Dr. Saleron hisses, her grey eyes boring into me, picking me apart, analyzing me. For any falter of breath, any slip of words. 

“Yes.” My voice is less than a whisper, a rasp of the wind through reeds. So quiet, even a mouse’s soft ears would strain to pick it up.

“Then how come I found my files in a mess?” Her voice is a deadly whisper, her eyes bearing the promise of pain. She will hurt me, I realize with gruelling certainty, no matter what I say. It's how I say it that will determine the level of pain.

“I—I was looking for a map of some sorts, that could direct me back to my room.” I feel tears pricking in my eyes, and no matter how much I try to blink them away they stay there, hovering in my eyes, just waiting to fall.

“Come with me.” Dr. Saleron commands, and I follow her away. Before I leave, I hear Wind’s voice in my head wishing me luck.

And as fear flares in my gut, I realize I'm going to need it. I'm gonna need it bad.


She ties me to a chair, stuffing a gag in my mouth. If I thought I'd ever felt fear before, I now know I haven't. No fear is like this, this feels like my bones are being crumbled, like I've swallowed a bunch of rocks, like my head is being cut open from the inside. 

I feel like I'm about to throw up my last meal. But I don't. Because I haven't eaton in forever, and if I did it would only soak the gag and make this even worse. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Dr. Saleron drawls, a hint of a growl in her voice. 

I don't respond, because even if I'd wanted to the gag won't allow it. I sit in silent defiance, not even bothering to flinch as she pulls out the instruments of torture. 

It starts with an injection. Not one that leaves me in numbness, my mind sluggish, but one that sharpens everything. Footsteps hone into thunder. Dr. Saleron raspy voice is suddenly unbearably loud. The seat is pressing into me, the ropes heavy and rough on my sensitive wrists and sore ankles. 

Another injection, this one causing no pain, no effect. Except for that pulsing feeling of my power that I'd grown accustomed to was muted, then faded away entirely, and the Blackness retreated from the edges of my mind.

Next, she removes a small blade. A scalpel. She slices open a long gash on my arm, and hot blood spills out. 

The pain is like fire, a burning strumming up my arm. She pokes and prods me with the blade, and by the time she retires of it my clothes, my hair, the ropes, are soaked with blood. 

I try to scream, but the gag blocks all noise. A gurgle manages to slip past its shield, and Dr. Saleron only laughs, leering at me, content at my pain. 

“It's only just beginning.” She whispers, her voice low and hoarse  and anything but pleasant. Another gurgle is my only response. 

She injects me with something again, this one a hallucinogen. It starts with colours, shapes, creeping across my wobbly vision. Then the colours and shapes form random images. An alligator, jaw stretched wide, oversized fangs gleaming, lunges for me. I try to jerk away, but the chair keeps me in place. 

Random, meaningless, yet terrifying. Then the images become personal, and the agony takes a new form. I am vaguely aware that Dr. Saleron has returned to using the scalpel, but my attention, my mind, is elsewhere. At the images that dance around me. 

Tiffany, skin pale and ashen, crying in front of me, grovelling, begging me to help her, but I can't move for the ropes keep me tightly fixed to the chair. 

Then she grows angry, scream nonsensical phrases and curses to rival a drunken man. I'm crying, I realize, my cheeks wetted with a mixture of blood and tears. 

Dr. Saleron alters between hallucinogenic injections, for emotional torment, and sharpened blades, for physical agony. I just grit my teeth and let it come, cursing the tears that dribble down my cheeks. I curse Dr. Saleron too, using words that even my hallucination of angry Tiffany would refuse to utter. 

I don't know when it ends, I don't know when I fell asleep. Or unconscious, as I more than likely passed out from the pain, or whatever drugs Dr. Saleron was doping me up on. 

I don't remember falling asleep, until I'm awake once again in my bed, bandaged up and tied down. I don't know what they think tying me down will accomplish, as I can simply flash away. But when I reach for that energy, I realize that it's muted. Numbed. Better than during the torture, but still too far off to be of any use. 

Great. Just great. The one thing that could've saved me is gone, useless. I am left weak and trembling, awaiting whatever Dr. Saleron has decided to do next. 

Which apparently is get me up out of bed. She comes just like any morning, untying me and hauling me away. It's where she leads me that's different.

Down to a little room, on a little hospital bed, where she takes a needle filled with a pale gold fluid. She removes the bandages, tossing them into the garbage, then injects the fluid into me. 

I expect it to burn, to feel agony tear through me, but instead it's a pleasant sensation, a warm lull, I feel whatever was in the injection circle into my system, like warm honey, gliding through me and spreading warmth. 

My wounds close over, the fog that I'd welcomed upon my mind clears away. Energy ripples through me, a riveting rush. The Blackness floats back, and the warmth slowly fades. 

Healed. She healed me. For whatever twisted reason, she wants me alive. She wants me to fight for her. The Blackness roars in outrage, but when a malicious grin slips across her face the untameable darkness whimpers in submission. 

Dr. Saleron says nothing, but leads me to the cafeteria. I eat in silence, no one daring to speak when they see the anger, bottomless and eternal and burning hotter than flame, shining in my eyes. 

They recognize the power that shimmers through me, the Blackness that begs to slide over and keep me its prisoner. It wants me, and I want to let it. 

But I have to keep fighting, so I do. I stare down at my meal, shovelling it into my mouth, trying to stanch the hunger that roils in me. It's bland and flavourless, and still leaves me feeling hollow after I clean my plate. 

Days become a blur. We fight in training, and I always win. Sometimes it's teams. One on one. Sometimes it's me against the rest. I become Dr. Saleron's prized soldier, she beams at me, thinking she's broken me. The others glare at me, thinking the same. 

But he whole time I'm stalling, growing stronger, strong enough to escape. My plan relies on one untested idea, and the longer I wait to test it the riskier it gets. 

Could I teleport more than just myself? It seemed plausible. It happens in movies, why not with real-life superpowers? 

I had thought that my power, gift, whatever you want to call it, had reached its limit. But when it becomes clear to Dr. Saleron that I'm compliant, she continues with the injections. More than before. Three times a day I'm taken out, while the other have downsized to one. Why am I being singled out? 

Soon it grows unbearable. Soon I begin to plot. Soon, I realize, I will be gone. A whisper on the breeze, and this place will be nothing but a memory. A reoccurring nightmare. 

My plan is to get the group to the door without teleporting, saving my energy for what comes next. Then I'll move them one by one outside, before I move to the final stage of my plan.

Burning this place to the ground. 

Over the past few weeks, I've planted reserves of extra-flammable fluids in buckets around this whole place. Paint, mostly, but I manage to snag a boat-load of hairspray from Dr. Saleron personal collection. I got it from an old supply closet, filled with flammable substances.

I also have a match from the kitchen, and I have mentally prepared myself for the moment I light that fire. Maybe I will let the flames claim me along the way. Part of me wonders if the others would even notice if I didn't make it out with them. They'd been so distant, I know they blame me for Tiffany’s death. I hear the, whispering, saying that I'm nothing more than Dr. Saleron's pet. 

But that's fine, because if I have to get them to hate me in order to save them I will. Hey have wormed their way into my heart, and I will do whatever I need to keep them safe. 

I try to keep my mind still, but it refuses. Thoughts whirl, every possible outcome being analyzed, what-ifs I'd rather not consider. But I can't control it, so I let the thoughts swirl in my mind. 

The one thing I don't consider is what will happen if I fail. I can't. I do consider what will happen if I succeed. 

What will the outside world be like? I can't remember anything about it, no matter how hard I dig into my memories. I cant remember anything before right now, since coming to this place. O guess it will be a fresh start at life. Or would I be lost? 

I can remember the basic ways of life in the outside world, governments and cars and jobs and houses, but I can't give you an example. 

I can't explain what house I'd had, my neighbours had had. I can't say who the government is, I can't tell you a car that I'd seen. It was strangely infuriating. All these memories, just beyond my reach. Eluding my grasp by mere centimetres. 

The day is soon, over, and I'm tied down for the night. It's not going to do much. Tonight is the night I escape. 

But it's all down the drain when Dr. Saleron comes and injects me with an unknown fluid. I can't place what it is until I call up the energy, and it's not there. 

Looks like I won't be getting out tonight after all. Soon I'm ebbing away into sleep, my energy sapped from the day. But I don't drift off completely, I'm stuck in a half-sleep. 

Here, I think of everything that's gone wrong. I'm filled with hate, at myself and others. Bone-deep loathing for Dr. Saleron. Bone piercing grief for Tiffany. Bone jarring anger at myself for not being able to save her. 

I feel like a failure, and I'm starting to believe I am. 


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