The Number Five volume Twelve

Kayce nodded her head left and right out of confusion, "What in the hell does that have to do with anything?" She looked back at me, "Unless he's the one you were referring to? Twenty-two dropped. Kaycee's hands slipped, the weight she has on her as if there was dead eat in my grasp.She grabbed my forearm, her index finger was smaller than her eyebrows.she pulled my face to match hers. I see all the despair and agony in her eyes, begging me to remember the past. She opened her mouth, and her voice rang out like a child crying for help from a predator. "Five, do you remember test number three hundred eighty-nine?" I started to shake violently as the memory returned; it felt like a bullet had just entered and exited my heart. I had a flashback of that day. "Subject: Five Test Take Three-Hundred-Eighty-Nine," a suffocating voice echoed around the room. "The subject has yet to lift the support beam weighing 453 kilograms." I looked around and saw at least three doctors, one of whom was Doctor Death. I got thrown in front of the beam, and a bunch of Auos started to shout, "Twenty! He fails again! Forty! He gets it up!" I took a glimpse at the box seats, seeing the rest of the numbers begging the director to stop the experiment. The director slaps the number clinging to him, and his head slams against the glass. I get back to my feet; both of my hands barely hold on; I can see the bones poking through the skin, but I have to get this up for some reason. I tried to get both hands under the beam, but my index bone kept pushing back, stopping me from getting under the beam. I put my right hand in my lap, took my left hand, and grabbed the bone that was causing me trouble. As I touched the bone, my right hand went completely numb. I pulled the bone out, but for some reason, I can't feel my right hand now. I threw the bone in the direction of Auos, but it didn't go far. I soon realized that this would be much more difficult now that I couldn't feel my right hand, so I put my right bicep under the beam instead of my right hand for balance. I struggled to balance the beam well, but I got it to slide between my forearm and my bicep. The amount of weight was crushing me. As I began to lift it an inch off the ground, I could feel my spine being extended, but I didn't care anymore. I had to get it off the ground. I brought the weight to my knees, but it was too much. I started to push myself up with my legs, but before I could fully or even half-extend my legs, my left hamstring popped. I dropped to my right knee and screamed in agony, "Come on, damn it! I have to pass this time." I can't keep failing them; they need a sign that all this wasn't in vain. When I whack the big bastard crack with a baton right between my shoulder blades, I gather my strength for the next round. Out of nowhere, this primal scream leaves my body, but the pain remains. "Lift you little shit; we don't have all day," the other sentinel mocks me. My mind was sharp and willing, but my body was failing me again. I hear a voice; it's 22. She starts pleading for them to stop. Those jerks snuffed out her microphone. I look up and see her getting tossed around in her cell. Rage ran through me, but my body was beyond its limits. I muster all in me—my anger, love, fear, hell, and even my pain and struggles—and the bar slowly rises. As I raised the bar to my waist, my right eye popped out of its socket. I was now blind on that side, and I could hear the doctor's pen speed up as laughter filled the room. The director speaks up and says, "That's what I've been waiting for. Maybe you haven't been wasting my time and resources." My body was finally allowing me the strength, so I pushed even harder, and inch by inch, I raised the bar to my shoulders and could see my eye dangling out of the socket. Then silence filled the room as I raised the bar over my head. It was only then that I saw my eye wrapped around the bar. I scream with all the air I can't force out of my strained lungs. "Hope is not dead; the fear you have is but a fraction of the fear of the people you fear." They are afraid of us and what we are capable of. Follow my example and find it within you when your strength is gone. What is inside you is all you need. "You are stronger than you know and deserve respect." Those words left my mouth with a large snap as both arms snapped due to the weight and broke through the skin. Everything goes black. I come in front of Miss Billingsberg, who looks at me and says, "You're OK; you're safe now." She looks at me and says, "Are you ok? It looks like you fainted for a second."I tell her I'm fine; I just thought of something that happened a long time ago. I have some painful memories that I can't seem to shake. I understand how you feel; I have a lot of regrets myself, she says. I can't get over how similar you look to someone I used to know. He was very special to me and helped me through, providing hope when all seemed lost. Well, that is nice. I need to get back to my friend. I hope you have a good day. I returned to the dining room but couldn't help but wonder why Hope was stuck there. I could not get that one word out of my mind. I hurry back to my seat in this old theater. Steve and the others were talking and having fun, but as for me, the only thing I could hear was her voice and Hope. Steve grabbed my shoulder and asked, "So what did she want?" That physical contact snapped me back, and I said, "Nothing; she just wanted to introduce herself." Tori then entered the conversation: "It is so sad what she is going through." She is so nice and always willing to help. "One of the few adults who will simply listen to us without passing judgment." I looked at Tori, stunned, not understanding what she meant by "what she is going through." The suspense was killing me. "What is she going through?" I asked. The whole group looks at each other like he doesn't know. I could feel the joy of being pulled from the booth. Tori finally speaks up and says, "She has pancreatic cancer, and it is terminal."