Chapter Nine

*Not edited*Not proofread*

Chapter 9– Fun fact:

The hallways of South Raven High bustle with life as the students manoeuvre through the crowded corridors. Everybody seems to be more energetic and over-the-top as usual; talking louder, laughing harder, smiling wider. One would think they wouldn't be so lively on a Monday morning at eight o'clock just gone, but they are.

I think they all need to tone it the fuck down a couple of hundred notches.

Pushing my way through the chaos, I decide the stop at my locker isn't necessary and head to my first period of the day. Although I don't actually know what that is.

What week are we even on?

"Hello, friend. What's got you looking troubled?"

Eyeing him from the corner of my eye, I breathe out a sigh of irritation. "I'm not your friend."

"Is that what's troubling you? The fact that we're not friends? Girl, you shoulda just said. I'll happily be your buddy."

"Go away, Seth."

"No can do, my pal. We've got History together," he shrugs, trying to keep up with my longer strides as he grips onto his massive backpack. "And you know that's not my name, Cobolt."

Week one it is then, I subconsciously confirm with myself as Stanley rambles away next to me at a too-close distance.

"—fun fact. Did you know cherophobia is a fear of fun or happiness? I think you may have that." I ignore him, pretending he's not even there. "Fun fact. Did you know bees sometimes sting other bees? Who would've thought, huh? Fun fact. Did you know—."

"Shut up!" I finally snap, stopping in the middle of the corridor to glare at him, having enough of his droney voice. "I don't care about your facts. If you're going to walk next to me, then do it quietly within a two foot distance."

Stanley sighs, but does as he's told and distances himself. A quick, almost inaudible intake of breath draws my attention to him once more and he hastily snaps his mouth shut and looks forward before he can even get another word out.

And then silence.

Fucking fina—.

"Hey, Kody!" An annoying voice cheers from behind me. I grit my teeth and mutter a string of curses loud enough for people around me to hear. You've got to be having a fucking laugh. "Hi, Stanley," Zeke says, a little less friendly and more hostile. I don't dwell on his change of attitude though. Stanley did say people don't like him, and although Zeke is normally polite and welcoming to any and everyone, I can see why he'd be less open to Stanley; if you spoke to him for longer than two seconds, he wouldn't leave you the fuck alone.

Cearly Freckles is just being cautious.

"Don't you fucking start," I grumble in annoyance, barely glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

"Um... I just remembered that I have to go and get my history book out of my locker. I'll speak to you later, Kody," Stanley murmurs quietly, it's obvious he's eager to leave.

"Don't bother," I call out as his little legs rush away from me and Zeke, ignoring his weird change of behaviour. I really don't fucking care what they have against each other— which is clearly more than I first thought.

Zeke pockets his hands and stays next to me, though keeping the distance that he knows I prefer. "I didn't know you two were... friendly," he chooses his words carefully.

"We're not," I grunt back in denial. "He just doesn't know how to take a hint," I look over at him pointedly, "much like you."

"Oh behave," he waves me off. "You like us, you just don't want to admit it. But whether you like it or not, you're part of the group now," he proclaims happily, not realising that his choice of words cause my insides to stir and my palms to sweat at the memory they bring on.

We continue to walk in silence as we make our way to History, I think Stanley mentioned. Zeke doesn't say another word, nor does he expect me to.

Once we get to the room where our lesson is being held, the majority of people already inside, Zeke and I separate to head to our respective seats. The one by the window at the very back of the room is left unoccupied, and it's either a coincidence, or it's because it has been made known that I favour this seat above all the others.

I let my bag drop to the floor with a small thud as I pull out the chair and take a seat, my mind still in a foggy haze as I think back to Zeke's words and the memories tied to them. Pulling out my notebook and a pen from my bag, I rest my head against my hand and wait for the class to begin, absentmindedly sketching a set of small, round eyes on the lined paper.

___

My small, chained feet drag across the floor, my little toes cold against the cement. My hands shake with anticipation as I hold them out in front of me, the metal shacks binding my wrists together. Two guards march stoically beside me, their faces and necks scratched, bite marks on their arms. I paid for it with a couple of broken ribs, a black eye and bruised back, but it was worth it. In the end it made no difference, I still ended up in chains, but it made me feel slightly better.

"Sigue caminando," the guard pushes me forward forcefully, his words ones I can understand.

I bite down on my tongue until the familiar taste of blood fills my mouth, stopping myself from saying anything back.

Once we reach the end of the final corridor we walk down, the guard who speaks the same way Nine does pulls a pair of keys from his pocket and unlocks the metal door, a horrible sound emitting from the action. I do my best not to flinch back, despite my ears being abnormally more sensitive to sound after the experiments that took place over the last few days. Instead, I close my eyes to block the light that shines into them, bright and burning.

Once again being shoved forward, I stumble through the doorway. The noises coming from the room is torture to my ears as my eyes remained closed.

"Uncuff her," I vaguely hear the guard mutter. I don't understand what he says, but soon the guard on the other side of me takes away the metal around my hands and feet. I pay no attention to either of them, though, as I slowly open my eyes, immediately focusing on the sight before me.

It isn't a room that I've walked into. It's an open space, there's dirt on the ground and a bright sheet above us. I'm outside. I'm outside and there's the sky above me, blue, just like I had been told it is. The same colour as the guard's hair who patrols our wing; subjects call him blue because of this.

The sky is a much better blue than the guard's hair, though.

I like this blue, it's bright and calming.

Reluctantly drawing my attention away from the sky, I soon focus on the other subjects running around the open space, guns— similar to the ones the guards carry— gripped in their hands as they fire them at each other.

The place is filled with subjects and guards, as well as other things I've never seen before. They seem to help the subjects take cover from the bullets that come out of the guns as they run and hide behind them.

"Ve hace allá." The guard pointing to a male bigger than me in age, but smaller than the guards, is what breaks me from my daze. "Dile que estas aquí para comenzar to entrenamiento. Él te dira lo que tienes que hacer. Escuchale y haz lo que te dice, ¿Me entiendes?"

"Si. Entendido," I mutter out, knowing I'm expected to answer. With that, I'm left on my own in the unfamiliar place with the unfamiliar people. This is the training wing, I soon come to realise as I continue to look around a few seconds longer.

When I'm done, I walk over to the overweight man and tell him what I was told I should tell him. He looks down at me with disinterest, but orders me to go off and find another subject by the number two. I'm good at numbers, so I know that two comes after one, and I'm one, so does that mean he's the second longest subject? Or did he just replace the old number two?

Either way, once I find him standing by the sides of the training field, something in his hands that he glances down at, I reluctantly make my way over to him, cautious and on alert.

I come to stand in front of him, his body longer than mine. I peer up at him in curiosity, noticing he's not as ugly as the rest. His eyes are blue but they're not quite like the sky, they're... darker. His hair is messy and the colour dirty-looking. I look to the number on his wrist; 002. An original.

"What do you want?" He asks, not even offering me a glance. His different-shade-of-sky eyes don't leave the object in his hands as he continues to look over it.

I hesitate. "Me dijeron que tenia que venir a verte."

Finally, his eyes look at me directly, running over my small frame. "A newbie." I understand that word, that's what we call new people. But I'm not new?

"No soy Newbie. Soy One."

"Juan?"

My nose scrunches and the mans lips twitch when I make a face. "No, One," I emphasise the word more. "Uno. El número antes de dos— two."

"Oh, One." ¡Eso es lo que dijisté! "Well, One, just let me finish my observation and I'll take you through to the first phase of training. ¿Bien?"

I shrug my shoulders. I don't really have a choice.

Two smiles down at me softly, losing his strict expression as he notices my uneasy one. "Don't be scared, kiddo. You're part of our group now, and our group sticks together."

___

Looks like history is repeating itself, a twisted voice in my head whispers, bringing me out of my past memories that I always seem to relive. I ignore it as I stare down at the dancing letters on my page, even the simplest of words not making any damn sense. I don't remember being given a worksheet, nor do I remember trying to complete it, but subconsciously I was reading the words (or trying to) without really taking them in.

Not long now.

"Shut up," I mutter lowly, not realising the whispered order escapes past my lips.

Jace is back—

"Shut up," my hands slide into my hair and grip at the roots, leaving a slight sting in my scalp as I tighten my hold subtly, staring down at the letter that move faster as they blur and blend together.

And that little redhead.

"I said shut up," I tug harshly, my eyes squeezing shut as other voices pipe up in the background. They're less prominent, less coherent, but they're there. I can hear them. Different tones, different pitches, different languages, different accents. They're all different and it makes me more frustrated, makes my head throb harder.

I wonder if she'll turn out lik—.

"Shut the fuck up!" I yell out, my hands swiping my notebook and worksheet off my desk.

The voices suddenly become quiet, and in turn, all I can hear is my ragged breathing, fast and uneven. My head spins, my vision blurring with rage.

"Kody?" I blink up at the teacher, or rather his outline, watching as he nears me at a slow pace, almost cautiously. By the time he's standing in front of my table, I can see clearer. "Kody, is everything okay? Do you need a moment?" I can feel everybody's eyes on me as I remain staring up at Mr. Wick-something, it makes me uneasy and antsy.

I don't say anything in response to his question as I get up and round my desk, barging past him as I leave my things behind. I pull open the door, ignoring the echoing bang that sounds from behind me as it slams against the wall as I walk down the corridors, heading towards the closest exit which happens to lead me out to the back of the school.

The sky is a bright blue as I step into the cold air of November. The surrounding trees rustle in the wind, cars zoom by in a blur. My head continues to spin and throb, leaving an ache behind my eyes. My stomach churns uneasily and I sway unsteadily on my feet. I feel the familiar weight of chains on my wrist and ankles, but as I look down, there's nothing there. Nothing but the barely-noticeable raised skin on my wrist; 001.

Breathe, R.A, you're fine, Jace's voice is gentle as it's whispered in the corners of my mind. It's faint, but I hear it.

They're coming back for you, an evil taunt upstages Jace's soothing words.

Ignore it.

You'll see. You'll be back there in no time.

Don't listen.

My body turns to the wall and my fist connects with the rough brick. "Just shut up!" I punch at the wall again, harder this time. A knuckle pops out of place. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Another knuckle pops and my mind is once again silenced, the voices seemingly satisfied.

I hate them so fucking much.

Breathing out heavily with my bleeding hand still against the wall, I turn myself around and slide down to the floor in exhaustion. My head falls between my bent-up knees and I find myself wanting this to stop. The voices, the feeling of things on my body that aren't there, the constriction of my chest and the throbbing of my head. I just want it all to go the fuck away.

Why won't it go away?

___

Author's Note

I'm really not proud of this chapter, but oh well. It happens. I apologise.

*

I would like to say a happy birthday to Lisa777712345 , I don't know whether I'm late or early (time zones and everything, plus I only just saw your comment) but either way...

Happy Birthday! I hope wherever you are you're happy and healthy and are staying safe!! All the best wishes!❤️

(Sorry if I'm late)