He didn't sleep the night before. He sat at the edge of the still neatly-made cot, feet firmly planted to the ground. The young man sat still and almost unmoving, fingers interlaced and thumbs warring with each other, his dark brown eyes nearly as black as the dark in which he was encased--save for a sliver of moonlight that slipped through the small rectangular window high up on the almost impossibly smooth wall. It was barred, the shadows splitting the shaft of light as it bounced off the silver of a collar.

It was quiet; the halls outside—always quiet. The rooms on either side of the hallway were reinforced and skillfully padded without grip. They let his hands go two days ago, finally free to wave and move outside of the straitjacket they'd put him in before. Absentmindedly, he reached up and ran a hand over what he knew to be his ticket to freedom. The satin nickel collar was warmed a little by his constant fiddling, the accessory having been placed there after the straitjacket had been removed.

From one cage to the next, he supposed.

He pulled his hands apart, palms facing upward in the inky blackness. And even then he could still envision the markings that would have been left on his forearms which marked the days he'd spent in this prison.

They said they would come back. After his parents and his sister brought him here, they said they would get him back soon. They would come to visit, take him places, but this was where he was going to live.

Like some abandoned puppy.

He frowned, thick brows curled in the middle of his forehead.

God damn them all.

He'd been here for almost two years, counting the days.  It had been thirty-two days before his sister came back to see him. It had been five hundred sixty eight days since then, and forty-three days since his last treatment.

There were three hundred marks on each arm.

The dark of the night had bled into a cold blue—the coming dawn. That was the only warning he received before the door to his room hissed, pushing inward and to the right. They were here. Everyone knew when they were coming, but no one knew who they were coming for. Today, however, he was sure it was him. Those with collars never stuck around long.

There was a night nurse, though, who was always around the ones the night before they disappeared. Luna, her name was. And she'd come to him to give him his final shot before lock down. That was when he knew they were coming.

Dark brown eyes, crusted with unrest, rolled upward to peer through uneven raven bangs. Luna was there, walking toward him with an easy smile. She was wearing a powder blue sweater over her nurse's uniform this time.

“Good morning Seunghyun,” she greeted softly. In her eyes, he saw the uncertainty and the regret. And for the first time since he'd known her, he could look at her with true contempt. It was then that he knew, all he needed to know.

Luna approached him and knelt before him. He didn't speak; they never spoke to each other in the presence of company. He watched the men and the orderlies at the door, the final snap of the cuffs around his ankles echoing in the silence. As the nurse worked, he took stock of the men just outside the door.

They all worse dark sunglasses; the men on either side were nondescript to him—it was the man in the middle who held his attention. He was no more than forty-seven and shorter than the other two. He was a black and pale figure between two black braces behind the orderlies, who seemed to be a pair of white pillars. He was sure the short, heavy-set man was staring at him. He could tell by the confident twisting of the older man's lips.

Luna rose and stepped back, and Seunghyun took that as his permission to stand, the chains a harsh scrape against the thick of the quiet. Luna moved to the side and Seunghyun took a breath through his nose before shuffling toward the exit.

The final hiss and hollow thump of the door closing behind him rendered him cold.

Freedom was never real in the first place.

The combined sound of shoes and shackles was a crunch-and-thump in the dead of the linoleum-tiled halls. Time held no meaning as he was led to the changing rooms. They were large and sectioned into cubicles, not unlike public bathroom stalls. The lighting was dim, and one buzzed softly as it flickered in the far corner. The two faceless men were made to wait outside. The leader, as Seunghyun regarded him, had insisted that his presence be there also.

The smell of antiseptic was strong and the orderlies were such a constant that Seunghyun barely registered them as the nurse left him and, he guessed, his new caretaker more or less alone with each other. He was still smiling, the strange man, from behind his dark sunglasses. His hair was slicked back and coifed to the side, not a hint of gray to it. He was considerably shorter than the twenty-four year old, just standing there looking up at him with a twisted little smile on his face. It was a smile that made Seunghyun narrow his eyes in an attempt to keep his brows from knitting together with disconcertion. And with each flicker of the fluorescent lights, the smile seemed to grow in its level o disquiet.

“Step into the stall, Seunghyun,” Luna's quiet voice echoed from the doorway.

“No need to hide him,” the portly man spoke up. His voice was surprisingly rich in stark contrast to what Seunghyun was expecting—though he wasn't really sure what to expect from the stranger. “No need to hide him,” the portly man spoke up. His voice was surprisingly rich in stark contrast to what Seunghyun was expecting—though he wasn't really sure what to expect from the stranger. "It's only fair that we view the merchandise clearly before taking it."

Seunghyun shared a brief glance at Luna. He really had no say in the matter as it were, but the small motion of looking to him, whether it be in apology or a weak form of askance, it showed he still mattered...somewhat. It still stung; Luna was trained to make those like him feel comfortable—wanted, cared for beyond the meals and baths. Even if she felt a sliver of remorse, she'd already condemned herself. He would rather it be someone else give him away.

Not Luna, even if her friendship was a lie.

Luna bent and undid the shackles, setting them on a counter somewhere close to the door, then coming to him with a fresh set of clothes. He had been bathed and cleansed the night before and there was no need to wash him again.

"Change into these."

It was usually a quick task, something that was done quickly and without preamble, but changing clothes this time around seemed to become timeless. It wasn't as if Seunghyun's body was anywhere spectacular—he was barely toned, much less muscular.  He'd come in a tad portly, to boot.

He gave himself an inward wry smirk. Even if he saw his family on the street, they wouldn't recognize him.

The ripple and slide of clothes across skin during the exchange was loud in his ears. It was only a matter of uncomfortable seconds before he was nothing but flesh and collar before the five men and Luna. He reached out for the clothes, when the stout man made a halting sound.

"Turn around," he commanded, tilting his head back and to the side. It was possible to see up his nose a bit.

Seunghyun's brows furrowed, lips drawing into a thin line. He glanced over to Luna once more, who nodded, almost imperceptibly. With a silent sigh, he complied, not pleased by the hollow of disgust pooled in his lower back at the appreciative noises from the heavy set man between the murmured commands to 'keep turning.'

The shirt was actually a sweater, black, long sleeved with a V-neck, to accommodate the collar. Next was a pair of tan cargos, the only thing he appreciated thus far. Lastly was a pair of white tennis. They were well-worn but so where the many things he'd been given over the time spent at the Facility.

"Thank you," the man nodded. "We'll be going."

The shackles were replaced and the orderlies then took hold of his upper arms. Had he known, Seunghyun would have said one last 'thank you' before leaving the room.

That was the last he saw of Luna.

 

HIs first steps outside the perimeter were not through those of the front doors, after assuming an elevator. Instead, he was into the dank vastness of an underground parking lot where there was but one, proudly polished black Lincoln. The walk to the changing room replayed itself audibly; the shuffle of feet and the dancing of chains amongst the cultured strides of the men in black all ricocheted off the stone surroundings.

The back door opened and he was ushered inside with a not so gentle shove. Immediately he was flanked by who he considered the third man’s goons. The orderlies had long since retreated into the Facility, and the portly man slid into the driver's seat.

Seunghyun couldn’t help but to relax into the comfort of the smooth black leather, so used was he to the hard surfaces of either steel or plastic. The engine was barely felt when it turned over, its purr soft. The ride was smooth coming toward the exit. The feel of the air conditioning from the vent nipped at his face, the scent of something sweet swirled around his nostrils, disappearing to the back of his nose as an icy dagger.

The act itself vaguely reminded him about the life he used to live. A life he even enjoyed before they condemned him as crazy. A normal life before he was cast aside as a mental invalid. A life he couldn’t bear to zip across his mind anymore for the anger and pain it caused him. Suddenly he found himself anticipating what was beyond the rectangular portal of light.

What had the world become in his absence? When it moved on without him? When he’d long since been dead to society?

They drove in silence before the driver fiddled with the radio. Something akin to what Seunghyun vaguely remembered as electronic music, intertwined with the sweet scent. It wasn’t a blatant contrast, but different enough to spark his interest slightly. The only thing that really registered to him was the beat; soon his head began to roll back and forth in time. He guessed his love for music never really died.

He didn’t notice when the driver glanced into the rearview mirror at him and flashed another one of his wry smiles. “I see you like music,” he said, almost friendly.

Seunghyun froze in his motion and eyed the man warily. He nodded silently at length and the man shrugged, turning up the volume.

The light at the end of the parking garage was but another tunnel of fluorescent lights, guiding them along a path he had no recollection of. It was a straight line, with minimal curves this way and that, and soon they were on an incline.

“Welcome to the world, kid,” the driver intoned gleefully, bringing the jeep out into the alarmingly fast and easy moving traffic of the city. The sun had not yet risen and the population was sparse. Seunghyun couldn’t control the swivel of his head between buildings. There were places he never knew existed. Nothing was the same.

There were hardly any of the cars he was used to seeing on the streets. These ones either didn’t have any wheels or just never touched the streets that were wet from recent rain.

Buildings were made of glass and steel supports, and above, there were…strange looking conveyers that passed over with large trucks on them. They seemed to be made of glass and no longer concrete. He was almost confused. It’s only been a matter of days, just over six hundred and already the world, his country, had amassed to so much more. Suddenly they came to a stop, and Seunghyun noticed a flare of red light coming from below in front of the jeep. But it wasn’t until it turned green that they continued on.

There were underground flares for street lights now?

“Yeah,” the driver spoke up, possibly seeing Seunghyun’s thoughts written across his face. “They did a lot of while you were in the pound, kid. They took down the conveyor belts and replaced them with these magnetic glass tunnels. They never really named them so we all just called it Glass. This baby here you’re riding in is an antique. They use hover cars nowadays. Wheels are a luxury. How old are you now, twenty five?”

“Twenty.” Seunghyun’s voice was rough from lack of use.

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re twenty five,” the man insisted. “They’d tossed you in there at seventeen, didn’t they?”

Seunghyun frowned. It was true, but what was it to him anyway? He supposed that it was normal for this man to know the particulars of his past, however…

“It’s been two years,” the collared boy stated simply.

“Whatever they used on you must have given you one hell of a ing trip, kid. It’s been eight years.”

He had no time to dwell on this particular turn of events when they rolled smoothly through a dark and seedy alley. The two men on either side of him slid out just after the driver.

“Get out, kid,” came the command, hardly waiting to be followed when he was hauled out, stumbling and nearly falling to the ground due to the chains around his ankles.

“And get rid of those.” With a click he barely registered, Seunghyun was free to get to his own feet, still held at bay by his upper arms. They carried him until he stood a ways away from a rusted metal red door with a fenced window. This particular wall was concrete.

The portly man stepped around the jeep and toward the door, carrying a shotgun. It didn’t seem like careful aim, but it seemed sufficient enough for him to take a well-placed shot to the knob and the keypad beside it. Immediately after, he kicked the door open and shot out one of the only two lights.

“Dol Sae,” the driver called out.

The last syllable hadn’t left his lips before a tall, rather husky looking man appeared before them, flanked by two others.

“Jae Sang,” the man Dol Sae said around a puff of smoke. Under the lighting he seemed menacing; large round eyes under furrowed brows gave him the air of a man that can lose his sanity at the drop of a hat. He had shaggy unkempt hair, pulled up into a wild pony, and facial hair which was surprisingly neat. But there was something about the man that seemed off. Seunghyun snapped back to full awareness, flicking his attention between the other two men. Their eyes were not as unwavering.

“It’s your time,” the driver said, leaning the double barrel against his shoulder.

“Like hell it is,” Dol Sae roared. “And who’s going to do it? You know guns are the cowards’ way of doing things.”

“Oh,” Jae Sang moved the gun to look at it and put it back against his shoulder. “I’m not going to do anything.” The portly man motioned back toward Seunghyun and the other two men. “He is.”

All eyes were drawn to Seunghyun as he was pushed forward, barely keeping himself from falling to the ground. He straightened up, his expression matching the confusion of the supposed enemy. The twenty-five year old stood there awkwardly, mind racing. He was set out on the world in a collar to kill people? Like some dog?

“What’s that scrawny boy supposed to do against even one of us?” The sneer was strong, and Seunghyun, while just as morbidly curious, leveled Dol Sae with an affronted glare.

There was a moment of silence before Jae Sang let the gun slip until he was holding it by the barrel and handed it over to one of the men holding Seunghyun. The hands binding him left him alone, yet he couldn’t find it in him to bolt; there were way too many variables and too high of a chance to get shot on the way out. Just because he didn’t have anywhere to go didn’t mean he wanted to waste his life. He’d waited years to make it beyond the walls. There had to be something he could do to make it out alive and lose the Godforsaken collar.

Jae Sang turned his back on the trio and made his way until he stood behind Seunghyun. The warmth of hands behind his neck made him tense; Jae Sang’s fingers were slim for someone so large. Maybe he ate himself to his appearance.

But the sound of the snap of his collar coming undone seemed to do something to him. Suddenly he heard everything: his breathing; their breathing; their heartbeats converging with his own as an unorganized orchestra of both fear and anticipation. It’s like he’d become alive. The stench of sweat and the salt of the fresh rain outside assaulted his nose and various distinct scent of man overtook his senses. It stunned him.

He felt the breath against the back of his neck and heard the very word that snapped his entire world into focus.

“Eat.”