Chapter Seven

*Not edited* Not proofread*

Chapter 7– Believe what you want:

My eyes feel heavy as they open, blinking a few times to clear the hazy fog that obstructs my vision. I hear a distant noise but I can't make out where it's coming from or what it is. It sounds like a rhythmic clinking of some sort, but I don't know what would be making that noise.

Rolling myself off of my back, I let out an abrupt hiss of pain, feeling the rough dirty ground against my open wounds and shifting my ripped shirt so it pulls against the dry pieces of blood and sends a shooting pain through my whole body.

"Welcome back," a light voice teases. I recognise it. Nine. "You've been our for while. How are you feeling?"

I understand what she says but I choose to ignore it as I slowly and painfully push myself to a sitting position, my body aching and my back screaming in protest. I look around the dark cells until I spot a dark silhouette in the cell opposite mine. "Qué hora es?" I rasp out, my throat desert dry and excruciatingly sore.

"Lights out was about two hours ago. So maybe eleven?" She tells me, sounding unsure. I nod my head and move myself back so I'm leaning on the wall. It hurts my back as I rest against it but if I didn't then I was going to pass out. "Are you okay, Harlow?"

"Si, estoy bien," I decide to reply, knowing she wouldn't stop asking until I gave her something to ease her worries.

"You didn't have to do that for me, you know?" She informs me, causing me to grunt at her. "Seriously, I know you're looking out for me, but I can handle it. I've come to terms with the fact that my dad isn't coming to save me. Whatever they want to do to me will happen sooner or later, so might as well get it over with."

"Tu papá vendrá," I wheeze out, trying to take my mind of the stinging in my back. "Solo tienes que esperarlo un poco más."

"Do you really think so?" No.

It's been a little over a month since she's been here. She's still in the testing stage, waiting to be told whether she's physically or mentally stronger so she can be transferred to either the training wing or the experiment labs.

I first started out in training; because I was so young, I wasn't eligible for any experimenting. Now that I'm older, though, they're re-resting me. We've been in this together for the past few weeks, me and Nine, ever since I met her just before the testing started. A lot of subjects have died, we're one of the only few left. She's done fine up until now, but the final testing is the hardest and even if she does survive it, I just know that whatever she gets cleared for, she won't last even a week.

But she doesn't need to know that. She just needs to believe her dad is going to come for her and take her to this home she always goes on about, so I tell her what she wants to hear.

"Claro. Si lo que me cuentas sobre él es verdad, estará aquí en ningún tiempo."

"You know, when we get out of here, you're coming with me," she sounds determined. "My parents will love you, you'll se—."

There's a sudden loud buzz before the creepy red light above the even creepier door switches to green and the automatic lock system is shut off. Nine stops talking straight away and her open demeanour becomes closed off and frightened.

My shoulders tense as I hear the heavy booted footsteps of the security guard assigned outside our block as he walks down the cold hallway. And although the guards swap places every time in no particular schedule, I know exactly who it is by the sound of his weighted steps against the concrete.

His torch against the floor gets brighter and brighter as it nears, his marching comes to a slower walk as he reaches our cells. Nine shuffles backwards, I can see hear more clearly now. She looks terrified. Her eyes meet mine and she shakes her head, telling me to keep quiet and not get myself in anymore trouble.

Once the bright light stops directly in front our cells, he flashes the torch in our faces, causing me to squint and flinch back. Puto cabrón.

"Open cell two-six-five," he calls out to the closest camera, his eyes not leaving mine. His beady eyes have a glint in them from the reflection of the light against the bars of my cell, making him look even more crazed. He doesn't smile or grin, he just looks at me with his dead expression until the doors to Nine's cell start sliding open.

"Qué haces?" I ask in confusion. The fact that I have no clue as to what's going on makes me angry and a little anxious. I don't like not knowing what's going on. The guard looks at me for a split second longer before tearing his brown eyes away and walking into Nine's cell.

"Harlow. Harlow, what's going on?" She cries out as the head guard grips at her bruised, thinning arms, his hold obviously way more aggressive than it needs to be.

But I don't know. I don't know what's going on.

I rush to the front of my cell and grip onto the bars with my small hands. The metal is col but I barely feel it. "Qué haces? A dónde la llevas? Suéltala!"

Nine scrams and cries, reaching her boney hands out to me as her cell gates close with a loud clank. I push my hand through the bar and try to reach hers, but it's pointless. She kicks and struggles but the guard only holds onto her tighter, cursing her out. I continue to yell profanities at him, trying to role him up to buy Nine some more time, but he doesn't listen to me.

"I hope you don't pass either test," he grits down at her small form through his yellowing teeth and my eyes widen. The arm that had still been reaching out to a frantic Nine falls back to my side as I let go of the bars completely and take a step back.

Testing? She wasn't meant to go for her final test until the two months were up. Had it been that long already? Testing usually took place at oo:oo hours, therefore Nine must've been wrong about the time.

I wait until her cries for help are no longer heard before I sit back against one of the walls, my pain long forgotten as I stare ahead. My stomach sinks and I shiver at the thoughts that cross my mind.

I don't think she's going to make it out of there alive.

___

___

His brown eyes, so familiar to the ones I used to loathe, stare back at me in pure confusion. I'm equally as confused but I'm able to mask it much better than he is. I doubt he's even fucking trying. "What are you doing here?" He spits out. His breath smells horrible and it causes my stomach to churn.

"None of your business," I growl back hatefully. "And can I recommend a mint? Because you sure fucking need one."

He works his jaw but makes no move to harm me in anyway and I wonder why. "Ricky!" He calls out, still pinning me with his stare. "Come here, now!"

I wait with crossed arms as the familiar face of Brad's brother comes to the door, Mac moving out of the way to give him room. As Ricky's eyes land on me, they widen momentarily. I watch as the panic crosses his face and he struggles to find words.

What the fuck did I just walk into?

"Kody?" He asks like he doesn't already fucking know it's me. I raise an eyebrow.

"Something you'd like to tell me, boy?" Mac hisses from the side, his hateful glare focused on the boy in front of me.

"You need to leave," Ricky directs to me, his tone serious. There's an edge to his voice but I can't put my finger on what it may be. It's definitely worry, but I don't know what for. "Now."

"Oh no," Mac chuckles evilly, and by the slight disgust that passes over Ricky's features, he smells his bad breath, too. "She's not going anywhere until I get an explanation."

My fists clench but I make no move to walk away. I'm not leaving now.

"No," Ricky shakes his head. "No, she's leaving."

It happens faster than I can blink. Mac wraps his chubby hands around Ricky's neck and forces him against the door. Ricky falls backwards and the door bangs against the wall, the sound loud and abrupt. "You don't tell me no," he shouts in his face. His sunken eyes dart to me as he pushes Ricky to the floor. "You, in."

I work my jaw in irritation, biting down hard so I don't lunge forward and rip his throat out with my teeth. Waiting for his large, overweight body to move aside, I step into the threshold.

The first thing I notice is the spaciousness, the open space that is modernly styled. There are two men in the living room as I walk in, Mac following closely behind me. They stand in front of the window, their arms folded defensively. Their faces give nothing away as they watch my eyes scan the room. They have a much better poker face than Mac and seem to be more cool and collected. I'm surprised Mac has people like these men on his side, but then again, money talks, and considering his line of business, his money could probably rival with Lilah-- and win.

"Have a seat," Mac gestures to the empty sofa that looks much fancier than necessary.

I turn around to glare. "I'd rather stand."

Mac shrugs his shoulders, like he's not bothered, but I can tell he doesn't care for my defiance, just like I don't care for his orders.

Ricky soon comes into the room looking less than happy. His brown eyes glower at the back of Mac's head and I can tell immediately that there's much more to his anger towards the bad-breath prick than meets the eyes. He's not just pissed at the maltreatment he received a moment ago, there's something else.

Ricky comes to stand beside me, though he's the slightest bit in front. His arms fold over his chest as he absentmindedly mimics my stance. "First Dakota, now Ricky?" Mac starts off with a laugh, "You sure do get around, dear." Ricky tenses as I do, our actions in sync. "But that's not my business. What is my business, however, is why you're here."

"Last I checked, this wasn't your fucking place," I grit, seeing as Ricky in't going to answer. I don't expect him to because the question is directed at me, but what's that saying? It's the thought that counts?

Mac nods, trying to keep the anger off his face. "And that's what's interesting," he grins an ugly smile, amused but not really. "Who did you check with?"

Before I can think of an excuse, Ricky steps forward. "Me," he announces— stupidly— his voice confidently strong. "I told her where I live so she could come over." What the fuck is he doing? "I didn't think the people I slept with were any of your concern, so I didn't run it by you. I didn't really there would be a problem?"

The people with who he what with?

"You expect me to believe that?" Mac exclaims angrily, not a fan of being lied to apparently. Though admittedly, Ricky is a pretty good fucking liar. "I know who she fucking is, boy."

"Believe what you want," the boy next to me shrugs, unfazed by the tone of Mac's voice. "I don't care who she's friends with. A piece of ass is a piece of ass at the end of the day."

I so badly want to hurt him, the voices in my head are in agreement, but I decide to see how this plays out. He's lying for a reason, I just need to wait and find out why.

Mac looks between us both; me trying to keep my mouth shut despite the many protests inside my head, and Ricky whose doing fuck knows what with his face. He contemplates Ricky's words, the silence deafening as we wait impatiently for the verdict. Does he buy it?

"Well, if that's the case, then I apologise for the misunderstanding," he suddenly says, sounding anything but sincere. Fuck, I hate him so fucking much. "Ricky, we'll carry on our conversation later, when we haven't got company," his eyes dart to mine briefly. "Keep your phone on, I'll be in touch."

Mac let's himself out, his two men following closely behind him as they all leave together, the front door slamming closed after them. The tension leaves the room as soon as they're gone and I no longer feel as tense.

Mac gets under my fucking skin more than anyone.

Turning towards the large window, I look down at the pavement outside. I can hear Ricky moving around behind me, but I keep my back turned to him and stay focused on the footpath. Soon, Mac and the two men come into view for a brief moment before they disappear into a black car with tinted windows, speeding down the road seconds later. I memorise the number plate just in case.

"Want to tell me what the fuck you're doing here?" Ricky finally speaks up. I'd been waiting to see how long it would take him.

I turn around slowly, my eyes landing on a pissed of Ricky as he stands with his legs shoulder-width apart, his arms crossed over his chest. His muscles are less prominent than Dakota's, but they're still there, straining against his black shirt. His hair is dishevelled, jaw locked.

I walk over to him, stopping a few feet away. "How about you sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up?" I ask rhetorically, knowing he doesn't have a choice. "Because you and I need to have little chat."