Chapter T H R E E : Chance Meeting

My cheeks are still flushed, my eyes distant, trying to avoid any random gaze as I bite on my inner cheeks, still flustered.

Time whisks away relentlessly, regardless to the fact that some announcements are yet to be made.

It has been more than an hour and half since we made it to this large hall, still appearing to be small enough for these good number of students, or at least to me. I have had never been comfortable with unfamiliar faces, so instinctively my guards go up.

First, it was just whispers, and now it has turned into murmurs. A bizarre suffocation slowly tries to clog my breathing, cautiously choking me up. I rub the skin around my neck, in an attempt to ease myself up.

The seats are arranged in a few arrays, descending one by one, keeping proper distance of at least more than a few centimeters within, while resembling the shape of the alphabet ,'U'. I'm sitting in the middle of one arm of the "U". A thin firm-cozy-bent-in-half screen is what these seats, we're currently settled within, appear to be: firm because it's holding our weight, cozy for it is stretchable and fluffy, while providing a faint amount of heat to keep us warm. I wonder if it's applicable for robots as well, 'cause they are capable of withstanding any temperature, at least to a compromising extent.

If my intuition is not that bad, I sense some bad, murky feeling in the gut and bite on my lower lip, trying to keep it down.

A few freshmen blankly stare at the long-wide transparent screen, in the front glass wall. It seems like the sky has darkened more by now, ready for another fall as a crackling blaze tears the sky apart in the distant horizon. Everything about today is giving off a bad vibe, and it feels like the deadly silence before a traitorous disaster.

Crossing one foot over the other, I stretch out my legs and cross my arms, to change my posture, while leaning my head backwards. Instantly the seat stretches out on its own, to support my head. I let my eyes roam on the ceiling.

It's reflecting our images, while it feels like something has been erected subtly in dots across the whole ceiling. I try to figure it out, but in vain. It's too obscure to get it anyway. I wonder if anybody has noticed this by now.

Frosty helium glass balls are floating on their own, in a proper array, illuminating enough light to bright up the whole room, while at the same time creating an ambience as if it's out in the broad daylight.

Since the moment I've entered this room, a sweet woody smell has been messing up with my smell buds, gradually smothering my insides.

A few trees are growing in the corners, inside virtual pots. The Oxy-tractor machines are attached to their stems, to provide enough air to this packed hall, for breathing. And instead of butterfly, dragonflies or any other insects, octocopter mini drones are flying overhead scanning and covering the whole area from almost every possible corner, without making any noise. I guess they are put on silencer.

"Oww!" I look down at my feet, a mini bot stumbles upon there, now lying on its back and wiggling its thousands of tiny feet, trying to get back on its own, making me cringe at once. When it finally make it up to on its feet and pass by there, I glare down at its retreating back.

"Stupid thing!" I whisper under my breath, while still glaring at it.

Then I notice hundreds of filter copies of that thing scurrying from places to places and surveying the hall from up close to the ground.

The four glass walls are smoky white in contrast to the ceiling and there are three oval shaped screens placed almost at the center of the other three walls, except the front. Antique pretty designs adorn its outlines. Lastly, a splendid work of a spiral metal sculpture is standing delicately at the center of the room, creating a mystic beauty amidst this deadly maze, while the shape resembles that of a woman with daffodils in hands or buttercups thereof.

Quite interesting! A sign of peace.

Like all other rooms, that I have visited so far in this school, this room is no exception. The room itself is too big to fit inside one small part of this floor. It is shrunk inside the various dimensional cubic zone, an iffy maze; easy to enter than make it out of it.

The zone revolves, following the instructions given by the school authority, and can again shrink back to a regular-size classroom. After entering, it appears to its actual enormous size without the insider having the feeling of being revolved.

I am growing impatient with each second ticking by while the chanting grows louder and louder, much to my dismay.

Right at that moment, the chorus of a few footsteps start to grow harsher, getting more prominent, as a stony silence falls upon the hall, and it seems as if even the time has stood still for the time being.

Amidst of those tedious footsteps, an acute distinct sound of a pair of sharp heels stands out the most, echoing its presence through its clicking against the hard glass, which voluntarily makes my head turn around and then instantly retrieving it back. It's red stiletto.

Fucking red stilettos!!

The view is quite marred as I slowly take it in. The group passes by the students, walking through the aisle and one side of the sculpture with studied gait, while giving off a dangerous vibe. Their steps come to a halt at the front of the hall, where an enormous rectangular screen is hanging loosely, detached from the glass wall.

Among the people in the bulky group, the one who demands all the attention just by the look, is a white suited lady, probably running in her mid forties, her red shirt peeks in view from under the white coat, matching her stilettos. She seems to be the leader and from the looks, I won't delay to assume her to be Principal Hescott, the hot cake among the entire Royalty.

Two brawny sturdy men, each in prussian blue armor-suit, tail behind her, their eyes covered with smart specs, detailing and scanning each of us. Half of their necks are under a heavy metallic armored suit. Unlike our uniforms, theirs are perfectly trimmed with various firearms.

There is this strange weapon with each one of them that I've never seen before or heard of. It looks quite like a big firearm with six sharp blade tips, sticking out of a barrel above the muzzle, and a blueish substance is kept within a cylinder along the barrel. As those guys rest their armor on the ground with a thud, it literally makes me quiver in attention.

Five heavily armed Cromdutts and ten Muzats trail along and stand guarding around them. They are insufferable, unearthly being, powered with adept skills to kill without leaving any trace. In one word, they are ruthless.

Muzats are the hybrid of Pyhogs and Cromdutts, and are extremely dangerous and completely hideous. Each looks different. Their heads are that of parasites or some kind of grotesque creature, each with variations only up to their cephalic portion. Although indeed they have no real brain, but no one can kill like a Muzat do.

The dead air prevails. I find myself adapting with this awkward silence with much ease than the previous chaotic one, and I don't even know why so.

Principal Hescott has put on a heavy make-up which brings out the stoic inside her calculated self, getting along with the fact that she is the head of an institution.

She has this small revolver tugged at her waistline scabbard, all bizarrely adored with white. Even the gun is white as well. Her short black hair is hanging loose above her shoulder with some gel on it. Her gray eyes are smoked with glittery dark shadows while her lips are painted with crimson red. Each lip has different shades of red, matching perfectly against her paled ivory tone.

Quite a fashionista, I see.

They say, only ugly hearts need make-ups to hide their sham. And maybe I won't be too surprised if it's applicable here as well.

She stands confidently behind a shiny grey lectern at the very left of the front. One of the Cromdutts whispers something to her. And then on instant her posture changes, her grin drops and something dark flickers through her stormy eyes, but she covers promptly with her professional smile, maybe the result of practice for years.

Taking over the microphone and audibly clearing her throat to stop some wayward whisperings, she starts her speech. Her professional tone holds no slight breech of rigidness.

"Class of 2239," she halts to take in the wave of students in front of her. "Hello students. I'm Dakota Hescott, principal of Hesking & Stafford's Med Academy. I'm so pleased and thrilled to meet you all."

She clears her throat again, and readjusts her smile, making sure that it's touching the corners of her eyes.

"I'll try to brief, so it doesn't get elongated or boring. BTW, I hate long boring stuff myself."

She whispers the last part, and looks over us with a bright teasing smile, encouraging the class to evoke small laughters.

"Anyways, back to the topic! I hope, you all are aware that our institution has always been on lead since the commencement till this very day. Over decades, our students have honored us, not only with their hard works or performances, but also their compliance and co-operation. This very legacy has been carried out properly for years. And we try to give the best we can. In return for that, we never accept less than the best." She goes on saying so smoothly like a practiced episode of a web series. "But I want you, the young doctors of future, to only remember that we can go to any extent to make our students pitch perfect."

She cracks a wide smile again, letting her prying eyes to scan through the freshmen. I don't know why but I don't like way she's trying to look all friendly.

I didn't realize that my thoughts have already been erupted on my face unless I see a reflection of myself on the glass floor, and see that there's a scowl on my face and my brows are scrunched up together. When I raise my head, I find her eyes to be on me as her lips curl up to form a nasty smirk.

Then she continues, "No delinquency, insubordination, contumacy, misconduct, or enormity will be authorized. The rule breakers will be condemned..." She states those words so nonchalantly as if it is some kind of child's play to condemn. "..severely."

A silence like death invades the whole hall. None dare to even gulp, as if they are put on a trance. I chew at my bottom lip and exhale deeply which echoes in the walls. Principal Hescott speaks up, aligning her sham all over again.

"Well, forget whatever you've learnt in these previous years. Our professors will mold you in their own way. You'll all be put into sectors according to your divisions. Each group will receive a captain and a head. The heads will conduct the sectors where their words are the final, and which you all must oblige. The captains will convey everything, commanded by the heads and maintain amenability within their respective sectors. Don't worry. Captains will be coming out of you students." She holds onto the sides of the lectern all while saying these all and then she runs her slender fingers through her short blonde.

I am only glad that she didn't let her eyes linger further on me. "News of any disarray from any sector and I hope, you will be least happy to see what follows next. For further details, you have the schedules with you and your heads will tell you the rest. Thank you, students."

Before turning back, she finally says with a seemingly charming smile, "And one more thing. Welcome to Hesking & Stafford's Med Academy. And congratulations for your admittance. Hope you all have a great time here."

After this, she turns her back towards us and leaves the hall with half of her men, or may I say bodyguards. The others remain in here. Within this moment, I catch a few glimpses of lustful stares at her petite retreating frame. No wonder. She is one of the most discussed hot-cakes in the Robot Villa.

One of the blue armor-clad men who stayed back on the stage, gives us a vivid view on how the sectors and the school work. From their choice of words, I deduce them to be doctors. But I wonder what they are doing in armor-suits anyway.

There are 14 sectors in this school, all named with first 14 alphabets. The freshmen are sorted and divided into sectors according to their agendas. Eventually I find myself to be in Sector-B as I want to pursue my career on Oncology.

Even till now, the doctors and scientists are clueless about this disease. It can be quite unpredictable sometimes. And this is the very disease which killed my mother when I was just a four-year-old.

Leaving the cube with the rest of the freshmen, I head out for my sector. It is on the 13th floor as imprinted on the schedule.

I decide to get at there by the Multi, which can contain only 20 people.

The keyword here is 'only'.

As the elevator door slides open, a gush of uncertain feelings cross my mind and I bet, my face is showing the obvious sign of my inner thoughts. I was the last one to vacate the elevator, as I step out to match my pace with others.

It seems like there are more than thirty freshmen in my sector. As we cross the threshold of the long smart glass door, awe makes its way up to each one of us, so I'm no exception as well.

There's this fragrance up in the air, somewhat feels like a brew of jasmine and caffeine, making the whole ambience purely divine.

The long mirror glass tiled corridor is stretched out down its way, while on the other hand, snow colored long shinny glass walls beam with faint sunlight and the hanging pendant chandeliers, ornamenting the ceiling, only adding charm to the whole ambience. And this absolutely feels so good.

On the spur of the riveting moment, I didn't realized when my motion came to a halt. Looking up, I get that I have bumped into someone's back, a guy's back, to be precise. To my 5 ft. 7 inch. frame, he seems like quite a gigantic rampart.

He turns around, let others pass behind him. Instantly I get greeted with an enticing heavy citrus cologne. I raise my gaze only to meet with a pair of shimmering hazel ones. Amusement flickers through his flecks as he smirks down at me.

From the first look, anyone can say that he is a modest guy, from the depth of his eyes where lies who knows how many secrets, to the bizarre warmth, which is coming off his body. His eyes, so animated, behind that pair of black square rimmed glasses, which adorns his face, making him look confident and witty. His long dirty blonde hair is splaying across his forehead, creating a perfect mess. He runs a hand through his hair and looks, with a small devious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

That's when my daze broke and I realize that I was, indeed, staring at him for a while. Embarrassed, I avert my gaze quickly.

His posture has something that is making my brain stop working properly. And for the first time, I feel this disconcerting knot inside my stomach while talking to a guy.

Who am I kidding? I've never talked to a guy except dad and Eric. And I've never considered Eric as a guy in the first place.

"I-I--uh-I mean--uh-I--um sorry," I manage to say somehow and make a poor attempt to pass by him without waiting for his reply.

"It's absolutely alright, love. As long as I get to see your pretty face," he quips, his voice so deep and smooth, yet a silliness fills it up, making it least serious.

Ignoring the debarred feeling, which is currently flipping up my insides with severe momentum, I roll my eyes and turn myself to face him. I quirk up a brow with an annoyed look plastered on my face.

Yet he speaks smugly, "No honestly, I mean it."

He shrugs his shoulders amusingly. "By the way, I guess, this pretty face of yours surely got a pretty name?"

I shoot him a nasty look. His smirk widens more. I leave an exasperated sigh, before looking at him.

"What a prick," I mumble on my lips.

"Look whatever you are, I don't care. And neither I have any intention to tell you who I am. Nor I'm looking forward to let you know that either," I growl at his face which makes his amusement grow wider. "And don't call me with names."

"Oh quark! I think I'm growing a fetish for your exquisite, mystifying name. Honestly I like this type; hard to control, tough to approach and hot in looks. Where are you from again?" He speaks up huskily which sends an unfamiliar shiver through my body.

"I appreciate your efforts to flatter me. But no, I'm not interested, in case you're still not aware," I inform calmly with a tight smile. "And by the way, go to hell, speccy."

"Ouch," he cries out placing a hand on his heart. "That hurts, quark. I think, I'm deeply hurt, here.." He places a hand over his chest, right over where his heart is. "..Inside my heart. And sweetheart, I think, only you can heal me," he points out dramatically and I roll my eyes perpetually.

"Sorry to stomp on your heart, but I don't think so."

With that, I attempt to join the others. But he is faster than I though, and blocks my way with his huge frame.

"Wait! I didn't get your name yet. What is it?" He asks as he chuckles, but I don't know why I feel like that there's a faint sincerity lingering in his tone.

"Like I'm gonna tell you," I snap at him.

"Oh come on, it's not like I'm asking you to fool around," he makes his point, and it does make sense though, but he's starting to get on my nerves. "Ah just tell me, no! Your name is all I'm asking for."

"Not happening." I stick to my ground.

"Please quark, for the love of the insanest Jesus. Just tell me your name and I'll leave you alone," he says calmly this time.

I give it quite some thoughts before I speak calmly, "Okay. I'll tell you. But for that, you'll stop calling me with those stupid names. Deal?"

"What names?" He chuckles heartily. "Sweetheart? Quark? Or what, love?"

"Yeah, yeah. Those!" I assure, while grimacing my face and breaking my gaze from his.

"Oh! They are no stupid, babe. They are amazingly innovative." he informs with a wink. "So no promises."

"Then you are not getting anything," I retort nonchalantly.

"Woah, woah, woah!" He finally says after controlling his guffawing. "Okay. As you like, princess. Deal."

Then he winks at me intentionally. The nerve, he has got, is enough to piss me off anyway.

Closing my eyes, I seethe through my gritted teeth, "You just not did it anyway?"

"What? What did I do?"

"Calling with names," I reply, calming down the nerve, he has touched.

"The Princess? Well, what do you expect from me?" He inquires smugly.

"Yeah, sure. Then forget 'bout getting my name," I state bluntly. He bends down, rests his both hands on his knees and looks intensely into my eyes, taking me completely off guard.

"Oh Quark, wait! Has anyone ever told you that you look super feisty when you're pissed?" He wiggle his brows while a sly smirk splays proudly on his lips. Now this rages me up.

"Well that's new. But I would prefer if you stop your nonsensical blabbering, or else, I'd put it off myself," I warn, narrowing my eyes at him and shooting deadly glares which amuse him more.

"I'd like to see you try, Quark." He straightens back his posture, sliding one hand inside his pocket.

"What's with you and these names, huh? No wait. What the hell..." I didn't get a chance to finish what I started as a raspy voice interrupted my probable outburst. But I wonder how long I'll be able to hold back this erupting rage inside me.

"Students. Finally," my interrupter pauses for a moment to breathe in and look over us for a quick scan. Promptly I try to gain my composure and slowly make my way towards the rush with that arrogant prick on toe.

My interrupter stands at the entrance of a big room, from where I think he came out of. Gracing his way towards us, he take us in for a moment, his suit less armored and less scary than the previous group out there in the Community Hall.

From the look and style, I can tell that he doesn't seem to be more than 25. His light brown hair is in a messy wavy fringe while a sleek cross tattoo emerges from the side of his left temple. As he lifts his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, I get to catch a glimpse of the tip of another tattoo which is hidden under his suit. His stubble has made his chiselled sturdy features more attractive than ever. But his eyes are just as dark as burnt coal, while some unfathomable vileness cloaks him entirely.

No wonder, he is a bot. But I can't certainly pin down whether he is a Livonn or a Krop. The chances of being the latter are higher.

"Well then, everybody line up." he commands and everyone does as he's directed. But as I said, I don't really have the best luck, hence here I am, standing just beside the prick.

I don't know whether it's another poignant trick of fate that out of all people here I had to bump into him or it's just a coincidence. Now this time he intentionally bumps into my shoulder. I close my eyes, in an attempt to absorb the rage I'm fuming with.

"Seems like you ain't gonna get rid of me that easily, quark," he chimes beside me. Smugness and arrogance fill his voice as he speaks.

"Shut up," I growl, whipping my head towards him for a brief of a moment, glaring him down, and then turn it back, trying to readjust my concentration on the words my interrupter is saying, though I'm aware that I'm failing miserably.

He shrugs. "No. I mean..that...Look, don't you think, it's a strange coincidence that we bumped again? It's all about time. Ain't it, love?"

"What's your problem?" I pass him an incredulous look, which he dismisses casually.

"Look, just stay away from me. And that would be best for both of us. Just stay away," I state curtly with an annoyance lingering in my voice. Before he can utter another word, our interrupter cuts in.

"Okay. I hope you already have checked your schedules and classes, so I won't have to repeat myself," he stops to intake a deep breath.

"Retaining regulation and strength is the ultimate factor here if you don't wanna get yourself killed. You follow, you strive. Hence, be careful. And oh, by the way, my name is Dalen Torres, the head of Sector-B, Oncology department. Everyone calls me Dale, so I'm not gonna draw any lines here," he trails off.

I hear a giggle in front line, diverting his gaze to the only source of noise, breaking the silence. I find the giggling daredevil to be the same brunette from this morning, who gave up her corner to me in the Starters' Room.

"Is there any problem, Miss?" Dale asks tonelessly.

Stifling her giggles and gaining her composure, she lies bluntly with expertise. "No actually, the thing is, I've caught cold, so It's been a while since this morning, that I'm having this awkward stimulation, and....coughs." She coughs again slightly to make her point. "I'm really so so sorry."

"That better be...coughs," he states humorlessly.

"Yes, Dale," she replies , sneaking in a smile.

"Okay. So team, let's buckle up. Follow me to the common room..." he says in a professional tone while keeping one palm on the other and rubbing each other smoothly. "And one more thing. I hate tardiness, so try not to be late for my classes, nor create any trouble for me, or you may get to see my wrath. Get it?" he asks questioning with his brows.

Everyone including me nod in unison. I wonder if it is a common trait of this school to throw threats at students. Everyone is just so irritating.

"Use your words, students. Let me hear your voice," he growls. "Do you get me?"

"Yes, Dale," we assures at the top of our lungs.

"Very well. Now follow me."

We follow him mutely while crossing three corridors and then coming down a spiral stair which leads us to a stop.

As the one-way glass door slides apart and our images disappear, I practically get stunned by the peculiarity of the room, we're facing. It seems nothing less than a direct cut-out from the pages of some flattering fairyland.

The room is elliptical and completely made of clear cut glass. One can see the whole outside through it. But the floor has a bit frosty haze. The glass walls are designed in such a way to make it look like there are several cracks and creases all over its surface, while giving it an artistic look. There's also some trees, placed with oxy-tractor, on several places. A divine warmness invites us in, as I take in the view in front of me. The chandeliers hanging from the glossy ceiling, have only intensified the beauty even more.

But still something feels off about this place, and I can't certainly pin down what it's all about. I wonder why it feels like that this place is luring us in, towards some trouble, we are unaware of.

Is it just only my intuition, or my inability to trust anything?

"Ravishing. Ain't it, quark?" His voice seems to be unaffected, nearly unfazed as he whispers near my ears.

I doesn't let him flay my mood and let it pass. But he is right. It is absolutely ravishing. But the gut feeling still nudges me up.

Right at that moment, an eerie aroma fills in through the place, invading through my nostrils and gradually overpowering my senses. And this aura instructs me only to follow a certain direction, as if parting my soul from the body, like I'm in some kind of delusion.

It pushes my inner self so much that it feels like I'm going through a cardiac arrest, yet it feels too real to deny. All my senses eventually start to fade away. That aroma turns stronger like anesthesia as it seeps into my nostrils burning it up, all along its way. But with the least of the remaining senses alive, I try to look around, only to find his face hovering over me, confusion and worry fills into the pools of his hazel eyes.

"Quark, are you alright?" he asks genuinely, concern latching so deep in his voice.

Eventually my vision blurs out and his face fades away in my subconscious. I close my eyes and let the scent overpower me completely. It feels like forever, as if I've been drowning deep for a death sleep. I can't move. My whole body feels so numb, so rigid.

Although I see all darkness, but I can feel my hands doing something, more like scribbling something without my mind's consent. I start keeping the trail of time, but soon I lose its track.

I didn't know how long I've been in that delusion, but as a strong light beam flashes over my face, my eyes finally open after a good deal of blinking and squinting, for a several times.

Gaining my composure, I look around and find myself sitting on a glass chair, different from the one in the Community hall, while being tied firmly with fine silver wires, around my hands, legs and head. Most surprisingly, I'm tied down to a chair which is hanging upside down from the ceiling. My tousled hair has come out of the clutch of the tight knot and now dangling loose in the air. Moreover, I'm all alone in this cellar like room, the walls stark black, only a few abstract fluorescent lines surrounds the wall.

As realization hits me harder, adrenaline rushes through my veins, panic kicks me in, and I try to relax my nerves, while closing my eyes for a moment.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The mere light source in this room gets more intense, illuminating the whole cell with its confident shower. The light being too strong, it's hard to look directly at it, so I decide to not look straight up at it and prevent the strong beam by turning my gaze sideways.

"What is your name, hominem?"

The voice is not automated, rather it's deep, not in an attractive way but menacing, like I'm a defendant and the person, the voice belongs to, is the prosecutor, standing against me in the courtroom.

It gets me a bit off guard and a mere surge of goosebumps travels over me.

"Elle Carter," I somehow manage to give an answer, but there's this subtle confidence lingering somewhere there, so this time I decide to look straight at the beam, refusing the strong prickling inside my eyes.

"I see, you have some insolence to talk to me like that. You clearly don't know the manners, so don't worry, cause you're at the right place to learn some," the person sneers at me, as a mere hint of anger latches onto his calm tone.

Instantly a surge of striking electricity runs through my back, making me gasp in pain and agony.

"Don't make me repeat myself," the voice grumbles.

"It's Elle Carter, sir," I reply inadvertently as if someone has pushed me into doing so with accordance, and suppress a painful moan, while warm tears courses down my cold cheeks.

"You're adapting fast, hominem. Well done," he scoffs. "So now the time for some questions, I guess."

"What's your intent for being here?" His voice rumbles with authority. "Are you an undercover or a self-volunteered?"

This sounds insanely odd, just as if I've been forcibly thrown into some psychotic comic pages.

I can't recall the article putting forth any hint on such a thing, organized by the school authorities makes to the freshers of them like this way.

Or is it obligatory for each student and each member of this institution?

Or is it just me?!

I don't know who can fill out my countless queries, each by each, without any complaining, and I know, there's no one to even listen to me.

It seems like I have no control over my entire self : neither my mind, nor my body, and definitely not my refluxes. It's getting me impulsive with just a little effort.

It is as if the queer aura has got my brain temporarily clogged down, while trying to scratch the truth out of me, taking advantage of this induced state of mine.

But there's nothing to be afraid of, because I know, I didn't do anything wrong.

I inhale a deep breath, before opening my trembling lips.

"I came here with one thing in mind, and that to pursue the dreams I've harbored since as an inconsolable kid who has been separated from her mother by the fine sarcastic line of a fate called carcinoma, before she could know what does it even mean."

My voice is surprisingly calm yet shaky, as I spoke those words, I haven't for years.

Another tear courses down my cheek, and I don't even know why I'm saying them all of these things.

"You stupid hominem!" His voice rumbles with anger, making a terror sweep through my entire body. "I never asked for an emotional crap!!"

He seems to having lost his calm, as I hear some faint whispering and gasps following it.

"No, don't..."

"How dare that mutt girl?"

"No, Martha, why shou-..."

He is cut short again and again, as those whispers continue, as if someone is trying to calm him down.

I can't exactly decipher what is going on up there, but it seems as if the position has been altered.

"Are you depicting only the half of the story? Is there more to a reason which explains your presence here?"

This time, it's a woman, and strangely enough, I find this warmth in her cold rigidness. It is as if I'm trying to convince myself into believing a mirage into an oasis.

"It's still not too late. Tell me, hominem, what are you hiding, who are you working with. Is it the Red Rebels or the HERON ?" She asks calmly.

Another surge of electricity runs up my spine. I let out a agonizing screech as I can feel the burn all over my body.

"I really am unable to understand why I'm being interrogated like this way, when I've put everything in my SOP and resume. Was that not enough?" My voice rebels out. "And I'm not hiding anything. I've just told you the main thing, and there;s nothing more to my story."

The voice doesn't say anything after that. A silence evades, an awkward deadly silence. I can put up with no more emotional disaster along with this inexplicable physical pain. I'm so done with this torment.

"Just let me go," I beg out in pain, and it is something I hate the most.

"Don't raise your voice hominem!" The lady snaps.

"Just let go," I mumble on my lips, closing my eyes and letting go of the restrain I've been putting forth.

"Have you got it?" A silent rage runs through his voice as she speaks calmly.

Another soul-tearing shock runs through me. This time I bite on my lower lip to stop another moan. The metallic taste of blood touch my taste buds, implying that I cut my lip in the process.

"Yes, yes. I got you, ma'am."

"It's Mrs. D'Parker for you," she corrects.

"Okay, Mrs. D'Parker," I speak along.

"Good girl," she exclaims jovially.

"Now one last question. What would you do, if you ever got hold of Mossuc ?"

To say I'm surprised, would be an understatement. I'm literally gobsmacked, at the mention of Mossuc. Now I'm totally convinced that there's certainly something off about all this, but I don't know what it's exactly about.

I reply honestly then. "I don't know. And I don't know why I'm being asked that, because I came here to study, not..." I couldn't finish myself as the voice cut in.

"Okay, I get it," she interrupts me. "You'll soon be released, Elle, and so don't you worry. Thank you for your cooperation."

With that, as if on cue, the light goes off, leaving me stay blind once again. I merge into total darkness as only the fluorescent lines glow in the dark. Soon my mind dozes off and moments seem to be trapped in the endless cycle of time and blurry memories, as I lose myself again.

©Shena