Escaping Elysia

Chapter 9 - Try To Scream

Evita

My leg itches. I'm sitting on a scratchy couch in the library, reading a book. Or, trying to, but it's hard to concentrate. The itching started a couple of days ago, and a rash has come up on my thigh where the nurse always gives me my morning injections. I resist the urge to scratch. Maybe if I go to the clinic they can give me something for it.

Nadya walks in. She's regained some of the little strength she had before she pulled her IV out last week, and pulls the stand behind her easily. She's ignored me since then, as have Dale and Weston. Dale and I are still working together in the Solar Room. Somehow we've managed to divvy up the work without so much as one word to each other. The other day I almost broke and talked first. Dale came in with three long scratches across his cheek. I opened my mouth to ask him what happened before I remembered that he hates me, and probably wouldn't answer anyway.

I watch Nadya as she crosses the room to the shelf where card and board games are kept. She reaches up to take a deck of cards from one of the higher shelves, her arm stretching, pale and thin. Her fingertips graze the flimsy cardboard box, but before she can get a good grip it spills open, scattering cards across the floor. Nadya leans over to pick them up, wincing. I guess she's not quite as strong as I thought.

I think about getting up to help her, but that will attract the attention of the other people in the room, including Leah, who sits at a table with her friends. She draws her thick, angled brows together as she watches Brandt and Nadya. Surely she'll do something to help.

Nadya straightens to catch her breath, most of the cards still laying on the floor. One of the guards, who was leaning against the wall, walks up to her. It's Brandt.

"Pick those up," he says, hooking his thumbs in his belt. Nadya bends over again and manages to grab a few more cards before her face twists in pain.

"Come on. Faster." Can't he see she's trying? Other people in the room are watching now, including another guard, Ripley, who's across the room. Nadya tries to bend over again, grabbing onto the IV stand to steady herself. Her fingers brush the cards, but she doesn't have the strength to lean down far enough to pick them up.

"Did you hear me?" Brandt yells. He pushes her shoulder down, as if in some twisted way he's trying to help her reach the cards. Nadya loses her balance and sprawls onto the floor, pulling her IV stand down with her. I stifle a gasp and tense, setting my book down beside me, but I don't leave the chair.

Where's Dale? After working in the Solar Room this morning I saw him lie down in the Solarium grass to take a nap. Is he still there?

Ripley steps forward. "Brandt," her voice is tense. "Calm down."

He glares at her. "I can handle it." Ripley shrugs and leans back against the wall.

I notice Leah whisper something to her friend, a girl with tight, black curls. The girl stands up and slips from the room, unseen by Brandt, who has his back to her. Other than that, Leah doesn't move a muscle. Though I've never seen her talk to Nadya, she seems to know Dale well. I've seen them at lunch, heads bent together, laughing at their private jokes. Shouldn't she be helping?

I think about what Dale said to me the other day. Do you even care that you upset her? Now is my chance to show him that I care, but I'm rooted to the spot.

All motion has stopped, and everyone's attention is on the pair in the center. The researchers tend to stay out of this room, but I still look around, hoping one will appear and stop Brandt. He clenches and unclenches his fist, and I remember the day in the cafeteria, when he kicked Dale in the face so hard his nose bled.

Nadya's crying now, huddled on the floor, and Brandt rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on," he says, but she doesn't respond. Her IV bag lays beside her. The fall must have dislodged something, because the drugs drip onto the floor. He nudges her with his foot and she still doesn't move, weeping silently. "Stop crying." His voice is harsh but his gaze flits around the room, darting from person to person. He nudges her again. "Come on, get up."

Beads of sweat form at his hairline, and he pulls back his leg, as if kicking her will help her stand. Idiot. I leap off the couch and push him away before I have time to think about what I'm doing.

He looks down at his chest, where my hands just shoved him, and then up at me. I can smell alcohol on his breath. "What do you think you're doing?"

I hold my hands up, palms open and facing Brandt, but remain between him and Nadya. "Just helping her pick the cards up, that's all."

"She's fine. Get out of the way." He rests his hand on his hip, next to the taser.

I crouch and begin picking up cards with my right hand, still holding my left between us, as if it can protect me. "Look at her." I nod toward Nadya, who is still in the fetal position. She doesn't notice the puddle of drugs creeping toward her. "She needs help. That's all I'm doing."

"This is your last chance to move," he says, and now his hand is on the black box and he's pulling it out of the holster. I could get out of the way. I could go back to the scratchy couch and let him finish tormenting Nadya. No one would blame me, if the alternative is getting tased. But I can't.

I glance again at her frail body. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dale walk into the room, accompanied by the girl with the tight, black curls.

"I'm just trying to help," I repeat.

"Have it your way." He points the box at my chest, and I look up to see a sadistic smile on his face as he jams his finger into the button.

At first it only feels like I'm vibrating, like every part of my skin is touching the metal rails of a track as the train speeds toward me. But then pain explodes through my body, spreading from my chest and down my limbs, and I cry out.

I fall to the ground, my body rigid on the floor. I try to move, to get away from the black box, but it's no use. I've lost control of my muscles. My body stays frozen while my mind screams to be free.

Finally, the electricity stops and my muscles relax. I can't help but whimper. But it doesn't end. He holds down the button again, and my thoughts become less coherent.

I try to scream. The sound never leaves my mouth.