Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I can wish, but it would never happen. Jarod, Mr. Lyle, Willie and the sweepers all belong to NBC. The 'I' belongs to me, but I won't tell you who it is yet... No worries, I'll write a part two one day.
Summary: A story of another Pretender, deep down in the building of the Centre.
Rating: PG for mild violence
Feedback: Feedback would be gratefully accepted. Flames will be used for cooking. Cookies will be seen as bribing me for more fic. Bad or disgusting cookies will be seen as a death-fic request.
Escape.
By EdenAdvance.
I wake up after another nightmare, only to end up in another one. Only this is real, it's reality. It's been like this for as long as I can remember. Always waking up in the same room, the one without windows.
I wonder what sim I have to complete this time. Or maybe they will perform more tests, experiments, on me. I'm sick of it. I hope I won't find out what they want me to do today.
Today I will escape. When they will come to get me, they'll find an empty room.
I get up, grab some clean clothes, and I look around my small room for any belongings I might want to take with me. Not finding any, I turn around and quickly disable the security camera. Then I move to the air-duct and remove the grid. My first step towards freedom is complete...
I never made it further then SL-10, only a few levels above mine. Kicking and screaming, they dragged me back towards my room, my home for the past 17 years. I already know what is awaiting me when we arrive there. Raines will punish me for trying to escape again, but it won't be as terrible as for the sweeper who was guarding me. It's become a weekly routine now.
He will say that this, the Centre, is my home. There is no way out for me. But I know that there is one. After all, didn't Jarod escape too?
We arrive outside my cell. One of the sweepers, what was his name... oh right, I remember now, Willie. He opens the door and pushes me inside. I hadn't noticed how tired I had become during my struggle for freedom. My legs no longer support my weight, when I no longer had the two sweepers to lean on. I immediately dropped to the floor, unable to stand. I wait until I hear the raspy breathing and the squeaking oxygen-tank that symbolizes Raines' presence. But I don't hear it. I do feel someone else's presence though. As I turn to look who it is, I look into the eyes of Mr. Lyle. The thumbless man, the bogeyman of the Centre.
I fear him, maybe even more than I fear Raines. Jarod warned me for him, but it was a long time ago, before he escaped. Jarod protected me at night when Raines and his sweepers didn't need me anymore. Jarod kept the monsters away, those that lived in the darkness. He listened as I wept, fighting the aftermath of a sim.
I look as Mr. Lyle comes closer to me.
"So Raines had send him this time. You must be doing something wrong." An inner-voice said to me.
Mr. Lyle would punish worse than Raines. It was known among the inhabitants of the Centre that Lyle was a psychopath. He liked violence and he wouldn't care if I broke a rib or two. I close my eyes as I await the first blow to strike. When I hadn't felt anything after a minute, I looked up at him. He was still here, looking down at me with a smile on his face. Slowly, he extends his hand to me. When I don't react fast enough, he grabs my arm and yanks me up to my feet. I sink back only once and I'm rewarded with another pull at my arm. He drags me over to my cot and lets me sit down. He sits down beside me and looks at me.
"How long does it take for you to understand that there's no way out for you?" he asks.
Against my better judgement, I replied, knowing the answer would make him angry. It was the only reason he was here. Jarod had escaped them again.
"Jarod escaped, and so will I, one day." I hear myself reply.
The first blow hits me in my face, splitting my lip. With my arms in front of me, I try to deflect most of the blows. When his outburst ends, he leaves. And I? I curl up and fall asleep, pretending to be someone else. 'Cause after all, that is what I am. A pretender, someone who can be anyone they want to be. Some say it is a gift. They are the exploiters, the Powers That Be; they're the Centre. I see it as a curse... because I want to be the person that I pretend to be. A free, happy and safe person with a family.
Someone who can be who they really are... themselves.
© 11-12-99 EdenAdvance