Kyungsoo

I shouldn't be here. None of us should be here.

     I’m not sure how all of this started; How we all got confined to this white-walled place and are forced to spend our days worrying over who would be the next to be experimented on. We’ve lived these past few days in constant fear and deprived hope, wondering if we’ll ever make it out of here alive. If we’ll ever make it out of here at all.

    They treat us like rats, their methods filled with punishment and reward. If we don’t cooperate, we’re tased or beat, then drugged before they roll us away on a gurney to our indefinite doom. If we’re smart and decide to cooperate, they barely use any force in bringing us to our experimental room. I’ve learnt bending to their will and going along with their rules is less painful.

    My fingers rub against the metal bracelet they had given me upon my arrival here. Subject 12, it reads. I never really thought much of the number. Am I their twelfth experiment? The twelfth prisoner here? I throw these thoughts away because they don’t make much sense. Jongin, the tanned boy with jet-black hair across the hall and bears Subject 88, told me my curiousity will get me killed in here.

    He may be right.

    The two of us had arrived the same day, or at least that’s what he’s told me. I had woken up in this white-walled room and panicked, darting towards the metal black door - the only thing in this room that actually had any color to it - and began yelling through the small barred window. That’s when Jongin told me to ‘shut my yap or else they’ll come back’. Back then, I had no clue who ‘they’ were.

    Now?

    Now I’m afraid of ‘they’.

␛␛␛␛

The screams are louder today. So loud that I can hear them even when I press my hard pillow against my ears and curl up into a ball. They’re so loud. I wish they would stop but if they did, that would mean one of two things. Either their session ended and they’re ready for the next one or their experiment died on the hospital table. I would much rather opt for a nonexistent third option, the one where it gives us the chance to run away.

    I feel bad for the poor guy, Subject 94. He’s so skinny for his height that I wouldn’t be surprised if he tipped over from a gentle wind’s breeze. He came in just this morning. I don’t know his name, though. Which is sad because if he was to die on that table, I wouldn’t be able to mourn for him properly because of the unknowing of his name.

    I clench my eyes shut when another ear-splitting scream makes its way into my cell. I want to leave this place. You would think that it’d be nearly impossible for any of us to hear what’s going on behind those blood red metal doors but I believe they made the walls here thin on purpose. They want us to hear the suffering of one of us and allow the fear to crawl up our spines whenever we think of who could be next.

    I want to go anywhere but here. Some place where I won’t have to worry about hiding my ability and live in worry, wondering when the next person will find out my secret. But I’m here because of that specific reason.

    They found out.

    They watched me--stalked me--waiting for the perfect chance to accuse me of magic. I don’t dabble in magic, though. I was just born with this. It’s not like I wanted this power that allowed me to manipulate rocks and, on one rare occasion, the actual ground. I didn’t ask for any of this so why am I being punished for it? Because I’m different?

    Come to think of it, I recall asking Jongin what got him in here a few days ago. All I can remember is him saying something about not being able to disappear fast enough. I wonder what kind of secret ability Subject 94 has or had. Maybe I’ll get a chance to ask him when they release us out into the courtyard later. That is, if he even survives until then.

    The first few days here are torture. I can say that with firsthand experience. All I can remember through the haziness of pain is a woman clad in a white dress and coat sticking a needle into my arm that was hooked up to a bag that held a bright red liquid. The burning sensation that followed the liquid was excruciating and I recall screaming out, asking why they were doing something like this. I’ve never done anything wrong so why was I being treated this way?

    The days following that terrible event were just as bad. I would be unconscious for a good part of the day and during the times I was awake, I was whisked away to the experiment labs. I tried pretending to sleep one of those days, hoping they would be fooled and leave.

     I was wrong. So, so wrong.

    They tased me twice for my offense and told me they know everything. And I believed them. I still do. They truly do know everything. When I sleep, when I’m awake, even when I need to use the restroom. They know all these things. Yet I know nothing of them.

    I only know of the name of this building, W.O.M.A., which I had the misfortune of hearing when two workers walked by. I wonder if anyone actually knows I’m here. That I’m trapped in this cruel place along with other unfortunate souls who are fearing for their lives just as much as I am.

    I shouldn’t be here. None of us should be here.

␛␛␛␛

    It seems like forever before the screams finally stop. The sudden quietness wraps around me and I feel as though I’ll suffocate from it. I silently pray that the boy lived through the torture and is still alive, even if barely.

    My moment of mourning is abruptly stopped when the door of my cell opens with a whoosh. I sit up, facing the guard that’s eyeing me in return.

    “Stand up.” He instructs. I do as he says and allow him to slap on a pair of handcuffs around my wrists. A buzzing sound starts from the restraints, notifying that the electricity in them is ready to fry my hands off the moment I try resisting them. “Follow me.”

    The guard doesn’t wait for me to answer--not like I could have--and begins to walk out. I follow closely, unsure of what’s happening at the moment. As I step out of the room, I take notice of the forming line down the hallway. A line like that only means one thing; Social Hour. The only time of day they allow us out of our rooms other than for experiments and let us converse with others.

    The guard brings me to the back of the line and I stare straight ahead, getting into the position they require of us. He then walks away, most likely off to get the next person, who is Jongin. He’s behind me seconds later, poking the small of my back in greeting. I nod in response.

    The buzzing that comes from the doors when they open makes me wince. They’re loud and ear-piercing and overall annoying. It’s not like I can actually complain about them vocally, though. A punishment would come my way if I speak out of line.

    The handcuffs around my wrists keep my nerves on edge, a reminder of how little freedom I now have. The person in front me shifts forward, meaning we’re finally ready to move. I stare at the back of his head as I trudge along. Jongin manages to step on the back of my heel and I nearly fall into the boy in front of me.

    “Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, voice low and cautious.

    I give the smallest of nods and continue to look forward. Looking back also results in punishment. The rules given to us on the day we arrive are too many to keep track of yet we are expected to know and follow them.

    Rule 27: Look ahead at all times. Failure to do so will result in discipline.

    I’ve only remembered the ones that would lead me to severe conditions. Although my time here hasn’t been that long, I’ve grown accustom to how they work around here. Anyone would if it meant having your life dangling on a line.

    The guard leading our group swipes his identification card in the courtyard’s security system and it glides open with an obnoxious beep. Outside, the sun is high and blinding, making me want to shade my eyes with my hands. I don’t.

    “Alright, you all know the rules,” the guard says. “No roughhousing or trying to use your… abilities. You know what’ll happen if you do.”

    With those words, he allows us to roam free in the caged yard and takes his position by the door that has begun to close. I cast a glance around the courtyard and find the new boy. He's standing by one of the concrete walls, rubbing his wrists. I begin to walk towards him and Jongin follows close behind.

    “Hi there.”

    “Hello.” His greeting is firm and short. Unsurprising.

    “I’m Kyungsoo, this is Jongin.” I nod at Jongin who still stands behind me. “What’s your name?”

    “Other than ‘Subject 94’?” He snorts, eyes filling with anger. Although he looks exhausted and drained of all energy, he seems to still have a fighting spirit. I fear he won’t last very long if he matches that spirit with a smart mouth. “Sehun.”

    “It’s nice to meet you.”

    “Can’t say the same.”

     I don’t blame him. The only ones who we can truly blame are the people who brought us here in the first place. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be in this stupid prison.

    “Would it offend you if I asked you why you’re, uh,” Jongin gives a helpless smile, “you know.”

    “Why I was kidnapped?” Sehun tries. Jongin tenses but still smiles. “I don’t know. I guess they didn’t like the fact that a kid still in high school could control the air they breathe.”

    “So you…”

    “I can control the wind.” He clarifies. “I can whip up a windstorm in the matter of seconds. A tornado if I wanted to. I can even take away your last breath with the snap of my fingers. I can do anything you can imagine that involves the wind.”

    “Sounds terrifying.” Jongin shudders at the very thought.

    “Which is probably why I’m here.” He muses. “What about you guys? What did they catch you for?”

    “To put it in short, I couldn’t disappear fast enough. Bastards caught me when I was off guard. I was literally on the toilet when they barged in.”

    “Sounds like a good time to get the scared out of you.” Sehun’s comment earns a laugh from the three of us. Our laughter soon dies down when the guard shoots us a warning look. Sehun then looks my way, nodding at me. “And you?”

    “I’m not sure how I would describe this but I can move rocks?” He raises an eyebrow in question. This makes me nervous and I add in a white lie, “Well, and the ground when I feel like it.”

    “Can you cause an earthquake? That would really be something.” Sehun’s eyes show the smallest hint of amusement and it makes me loosen up a little. His expression then goes back to being toic when he asks, "Why can’t I use my ability now?”

    “It’s the stuff they put in us.” I say. “It neutralizes a part of our brain that controls our abilities. They have to give us daily doses because it can only stay in effect for so long.”

    “So I’ll be getting another painful shot of that red liquid tomorrow, then?” he grimaces at the thought and I sympathize with him. Mainly because of the fact he still has no idea of what he will be facing in his oncoming days. “Well I guess it could be worse. I could be dead.”

    We all may as well be.