My stomach dropped, and I unthinkingly took several steps back until I hit the wall behind me, sliding to the ground. My surroundings began to whirl as my thoughts became a disoriented haze.

Then my body acted on its own, standing up and stepping forward. My hands shook as if I was being shocked again as I laid my hand on the doorknob. I distinctly didn't want to open the door, yet my body turned the handle.

Jason was sitting with his arms hugging his knees behind the door. His shoes were dipped in a shallow layer of blood. He stared straight ahead, his eyes vacant as if he wasn't seeing the room in front of him. "I didn't mean to, Tess," he said in a voice as empty as his gaze. "I didn't mean to. He...he jerked toward me and I....the blade—it sliced his neck open." He clamped his mouth shut and continued staring into emptiness, rocking back and forth slightly.

In the small part of my mind that remained coherent, untouched by the overpowering horror, it occurred to me that I could never know if he was telling the truth. There were no witnesses. Doc was seemingly unconscious on his bed. Van was...

My eyes began to move in his direction, but I jerked them away.

Van hadn't been my friend. He was one of the enemies. Right?

I needed to keep my head. If I didn't escape now, everything would probably get much more strict, and another attempt would become impossible. I pictured them keeping me in those horrible constricting bindings all the time, or shocking me every time I moved a muscle.

My lungs seemed to tremble as I sucked in a deep breath. "Give me the scissors," I demanded, holding an unsteady hand out.

In my periphery, I saw Jason slowly lean toward Van, but I kept my eyes fixed on the spot where he'd been sitting. There was an awful wet sound that made me wince, then Jason returned to my field of view. He held the scissors out to me, but they were coated in blood.

I swallowed the sick feeling in my throat, gingerly took the scissors by their dry handle, then wiped them off with the end of my hospital gown.

And then, in one swift movement, I shot out the door and slammed it shut behind me. I held it closed until I was certain it was locked, testing the rigid doorknob.

I had tried so hard not to look. But as I'd turned to shut the door, I'd caught a glimpse of a pale, lifeless body, emptied of blood.

Jason would stay, I decided. He would stay in that room, trapped and forced to face what he had done. He would stay in this facility, under control of the government, subject to whatever fate they pleased. He deserved nothing more.

Taking advantage of the numbness that shrouded my mind, I sunk the scissors into my own flesh, barely registering the pain. I felt hot blood spill out and run down my back as I pinched the implant between my fingertips, tearing it out.

Finally, I got to see what had been causing the horrible jolts of electricity. But the object didn't interest me—it just was a tiny bead cased in dull metal. I tossed it over my shoulder and heard it fall with a clink, rolling down the empty hallway.

To test my theory about the implant once and for all, I once again took off at a full sprint. This time, I continued unhindered, and an exhilarated smile broke onto my face. It felt incredible to run again—and, for once, not away from anything, but toward my family.

Maybe Kyle and I would even reunite someday soon.

I sped up at the thought, barreling down the halls toward the room where I'd been held. There were several doors along the way, but they were flimsy and wooden. I figured the others would be kept in rooms like mine, with a thick metal door to trap us inside.

Finally, I came upon one identical to my cell. I was more nervous than I'd expected to actually open the door. I didn't know who or what might be behind it. I took another deep breath, then scanned the keycard and pushed the door open far enough to stick my head inside.

My eyes widened.

I tried to force the door shut as the imposing man inside lurched forward, but he caught his shoe in the opening, letting out an ungodly yelp as I slammed it with my entire strength against his foot.

Immediately, I could tell this made him very angry. His face turned beet red, and he bared his gritted teeth at me, seething in my face as he forced the door wide open.

I hopped back several feet. Inside the room, I glimpsed a dozen monitor screens. So this was a security guard. He stomped toward me, and sure enough, he was wearing a blue uniform with a badge, confirming my suspicion.

Of course, I'd had to pick this door to open. Just my luck.

We stared each other down for a brief moment. I was surely a sight to behold with my blood-stained eyes; he looked visibly disgusted. The guard was middle-aged and slightly overweight, but it looked like there might have been some bulky muscle underneath the rounded angles of his contour. He also towered over me by at least half a foot.

This was not someone I was confident I could beat in a fight. Still, my fingers twitched around the scissors and syringe of Valium in my hands. The guard noticed them in the same instant, his eyes narrowing. By instinct, I geared up to run.

But the man held up one hand. "Hey now, let's just talk this out for a minute," He said in a surprisingly calm, pleasant baritone. He stepped forward, and I inched back, keeping an even distance between us. "Van let you out, right? Where is he?"

I looked down at the bloody scissors, and he followed my eyes, examining them more closely this time. He wouldn't know it was my own blood they were dripping with, but his likely conclusion that they'd been used to kill Van would not be incorrect. The guard looked horrified, and then his face flared red with fury.

Before I could react, the man reeled forward faster than I would have thought him capable, catching my arms in an iron grip. He yanked me backward until I felt the cold wall press against my back, then he thrashed me against it, smashing my head into the concrete bricks. Dark spots appeared in my vision, and a garbled shriek of pain caught in my throat as I gasped for air. Vaguely, I registered the syringe falling from my fingers and clattering to the floor.

Weakly, I tried to stab at the man with the scissors—my last resort. But he released my arms and pried at the tense grip of my fingers, forcing them out of my hand. As soon as he let go of me, I went limp, falling to the floor in a heap. My head throbbed evenly, as if the pulsing bass of a fast electronic song was reverberating inside my skull.

I allowed my head to loll forward, forming a curtain with my hair. In the corner of my vision, I spotted an object on the floor beside me. As it came into focus, the pain and defeat were overtaken by a burst of determination.

"Oh, boy," the security guard muttered under his breath, his voice coated with worry. "We're not supposed to damage the merchandise, but Rothsford better understand that this was necessary." Abruptly, I felt the man scoop me up off the ground—but not before my fingers found the syringe, swiftly concealing it against my palm.

_______

A/N: Happy Halloween! How are you spending the day? c:

this is the most consistently I've ever updated - four in one month! I'll try to keep it up. If you're enjoying the story, please vote and/or comment because it really helps my motivation.