I read the Shatter me Trilogy years ago and I've always wanted to do a Fanfic. I like Juliette's character and everything but I always thought she was quite self-centred, especially when she was in Omega Point. I thought it would be fun to create a new character that is the total opposite and see how all the other characters adjust in the novel. Enjoy.
I play with the frayed ends of the tired red ribbon wrapped around my wrist. I sigh at the miniature bell, broken and dangling from the ribbon. I force myself to tear my eyes away from the thing, looking out of the window enlaced with bars. It's the only window in the room, yet hardly any sunlight seeps through. I force myself to look out everyday, hoping to see something fly by. Nothing ever does, not anymore.
My thoughts are distracted by the siren. I look out the window one last time, then remove myself from the lonely corner seat in this communal room. Everyone knows the routine. We wake then we wait. The doors of our block open all at once, then we walk in a line to a room with one window and a door with Communal room written on it; minus a few letters. I never speak, I haven't decided whether this is a hospital or an insane asylum, but I'm leaning toward the latter.
Men and women of all ages live on block zero, just like me. Each of us with our own dark cell, with the same rusted beds and stone walls. No windows, but a single dim light bulb that I can never reach. But when I return to my cell, something's changed. Someone's been in here and added another broken old mattress. I stare at it for a long time, but then the metal door closes shut behind me and I hear the bolts turn and lock on every door. No one works here, I don't think. I've never seen anymore that isn't confined to one of these cells, but I sometimes here them laugh. Although, that could be someone on my block.
I look at the other bed, contemplating what it could mean. The obvious is, that I'm getting a cellmate. But no one ever gets a cellmate on this block, anymore. No one.
I slide to the floor, my head resting against the cold wall. Suddenly a shiver runs through me and I wrap the long and oversized, knitted cardigan around myself. I knock my tattered, white tennis shoes together, passing the time. My long and snug fitted pants are warm, luckily, but my rough t-shirt isn't. Although most of the time, I don't notice. Either too tired or confused or hungry to ever notice.
I try and sleep, but the screaming never stops. The middle aged woman in the cell next door, she never stops screaming. Even in the Communal room, she stifles around, screaming. Sometimes, I join her.
My thoughts remain on the other bed as I drift off into nothingness.
I find myself waiting when I wake. Honestly expecting them to slip someone into my cell while I am asleep, but that never happened. I sit in the corner of my dimly lit room, waiting for hours. But time passes quickly in this place. These walls may be made of thick concrete and heavy grey stone, but they are not sound proof. Time flies, filled with tearful screams, shouting, and most of all, crying. I often drift off into my own little existence. I simply close my eyes and try and ignore everything happening around me.
It only ever works half of the time.
I find myself drifting off to sleep again, hugging my knees and my back resting against the wall. But a sudden sound makes me move, and my eyes find the door. I search it for answers, but find nothing. Surly it isn't time for a shower yet, is it? I must have lost track of time.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand, then the sensation of someone watching me follows. I hear the delicate sound of metal moving, then the bolts of my door open. A young man tumbles in, almost ramming into the hard wall. He turns and watches the door close shut, sealing him in.
Blonde hair and a muscular face with dark eyes, wearing a navy blue T-shirt and khaki cargo pants tucked into shin-high black boots, turns to me. His left arm is tattooed and a single scar resides over his right eyebrow. I don't move for a long moment, my arms still hugging my knees. My new cellmate studies me, his facial expression then changes. He slumps against the wall and lands on one of the mattresses, his face pales slightly. For a moment I'm worried he might throw up, but he doesn't. His eyes are empty as he looks at my face, shock resides on it.
My eyes narrow, I can't help it. I hate being stared at.
Is this just shock? He doesn't seem afraid of me, although if he knew what I am, I'm sure he would be.
"Did you get moved from another block?" I ask, my voice filling the small space. Rougher then I intended.
After a moment, his eyes find the wall, then me again. Whatever just happened, it's as if he had just forgotten it all.
"No," he coughs. "I just got here." His voice is smooth and low, it reminds me how much I miss human interaction.
I can't ignore the little voice in my head, telling me something isn't right. Why would he be put straight into block zero? Is he a killer? Is he insane? He'll probably kill me in my sleep.
"Why are you here?" I ask. "In block zero, I mean," I clarify. I've learnt from my mistakes, the slightest little thing can set off anyone here. Even how you phrase a question, so I better be carful. Besides, I don't think I can deal with someone's back story, not now. I can't bear to hear how much more shittier the world has gotten since I've been in here, how so many people are suffering out there.
My cellmate doesn't answer, but he understands what is going through my head because he says, "I'm not insane."
I sigh and let my head lean against the wall, "That's what we all say."
Knock. Knock.
Cellmate is on his feet. The door opens, just as always.
"What's happening?" His voice anxious.
I'm on my feet with a small smirk on my face, Cellmate is going to have to get used to this. "It's shower time."
I pull his shirt and drag him into the corridor just in time, the door closes behind us with a loud thud. I let go of his shirt and his hands search for me in the darkness, "Stop," I whisper. He stops immediately. "Take hold of my cardigan and shut up, okay?"
He does as I tell him. I feel my way to the showers, my hands gliding over each closed door in this hell hole. I feel the rough stone walls in every corridor, but when a scream rises from one of the rooms, Cellmate leaves go of my cardigan. I've lost him.
"Hey," I hiss. "Where the-"
"What was that?" Cellmate's hand catches my cardigan again and I finally reach the showers. I don't answer, there's no point. He'll get used to the screams, eventually.
I remove my shoes in the darkness and feel the cold tiles under my feet. I guide Cellmate to the shower head and turn it on for him. I turn in his general direction and instruct him on what to do.
"The water will run for three minutes and it's cold," I frown. It's always cold. "Just dump your clothes anywhere but don't get them wet, it takes forever for them to dry. Leave them somewhere you can find them easily, the lights never turn on in here or out in the corridors," I hear him sigh into the darkness. I'm already half finished when I hear him whisper thank you.
In exactly 157 seconds I've wrung my long hair and I'm slipping back into my outfit. I slip on my tennis shoes and Cellmate follows suit. The sirens ring and we're shortly back in our cell, the metal door closes shut and we won't be let out for another twelve hours. It's oddly warm in the cell, it must mean the weather outside is too. I find my little corner and sit there, combing through my hair with my fingers.
Cellmate seems lost, he doesn't know what do to with himself. He stands, then paces, then sits, then does it all again. I feel for him. I was like him when I was first sent to these kind of places. I sigh and let my hands drop, I have to help him somehow. It's only fair.
"Stop pacing," I tell him. He's hesitant at first, but finally sits on one of the rotting beds. He seems frustrated.
"Things are different here," I tell him. "This is block zero, we're treated very differently to the other blocks. Two knocks mean shower time, the doors open electronically I guess. I've never seen any workers or nurses or cleaners, there's no one," I look at him. "One knock means Communal room, everyone gets let out for an hour. The sirens go off, the doors open, then we stand in a line and all walk together to the room."
"Do we have to go?" Cellmate interjects. The thought of being crammed into a room with insane people doesn't seem to be appealing to him.
"No," I tell him honestly. "No one's going to force you, but the Communal room has a window. It's covered with bars but sunlight still seeps through. Just saying, it's probably in your best interest to join us. If you haven't already noticed, we don't have a window in here," I look at the walls I so perfectly know. He doesn't seem too happy about it, but agrees.
"Don't talk to anyone, don't look at anyone, be invisible while you're in there," I advise. "You should be fine."
"This is going to be fun," his voice laced with sarcasm. He tussles his blonde hair, it must be a reflex by now. He's kinda beautiful.
"You'd be happy to hear we only get let out once a day, two knocks today means it'll be Communal room tomorrow," I tell him. He looks relieved, I think. It's not easy to read this guy.
I blow out a long breathe, tired of this reality. "We get fed once a day, maybe two if we're lucky. You'll want to wait about four minutes before you even touch the plate, or you'll get a nasty ass burn if you do," I look at my hand, the long burn scar never fading. I've learnt from my mistakes.
"That's pretty much it," I tell him. I smirk, "Just try not to go insane."
Cellmate studies me for a long time. "Will you quit looking at me," I tell him, my eyebrows furrow together.
"What's so different about this block?" He asks, slowly. "Block zero," he whispers.
"Everyone on this block, we're the worst of the worst," I smirk, I feel kind of proud to be a renowned block zero inmate. I probably look insane right now.
"There are other blocks here? How many?"
I blow out another breathe, thinking back. It's been a long time. "Five. There are five, yeah. Everyone gets put in block five first. It depends on your behaviour, who or what you are if you stay there. The worse you are, the number decreases. It stops at zero. Ground floor," I cross my legs. "But," I cock my head. "You weren't put in five."
He knows I'm sceptical, he knows I don't trust him. But this guy plays it cool, "Maybe things have changed."
Things will never change. They'll always treat us like garbage, like some disease. They'll always treat me like a disease. I thought I was, I thought I was this monster. This thing no one loved. They've never told me otherwise. But the world isn't nice to everyone, especially someone like me. But I've come to realise I don't care. I don't need the world. I've been by myself my entire life, and I'm still alive. I must be doing something right. I've accepted who I am, I like who I am. I'm not insane. I'm not good. I'm not bad. I just am.
"Why were you moved down here?" He asks quickly.
"You ask a lot of questions, stranger."
"I'm a curious person, stranger."
"Curiosity killed the cat," I say. Silence. "Some people didn't get along with me on block five, I got moved down. That's all to it," I sigh.
"Is it really that different? I mean, it's still an insane asylum," he points out.
I shrug, "They get more freedom on block five. Their cells have windows and they get let out twice a day," I'm trying to remember. "Four isn't much different. I'm not sure about three or two, but there isn't much difference between us and one, although they still get cellmates, I suppose."
"Still? What's so big about having cellmates here? I mean we're cellmates," he questions me.
I look away from the dark eyed guy. I've answered his questions, but this is one thing I am not bringing up. Curiosity isn't taken well down here, and I am not about to bring that memory back up.
"Something happened, didn't it," he decides to sit on the floor, closer to me.
"Why do you want to know?" I turn to him, frustrated. "Why are you asking so many questions?"
He pauses, "Was it that bad?"
"Fine," his curiosity will drown him in this place. "A year ago, everyone on this block had a cellmate. For some reason, one of the women in the cell next door was removed and replaced by a some guy with black hair. Two days in, we were all let out to the Communal room and then everything went to shit. The new guy attacked his cellmate, it was chaos in that room," I tell him, trying not to relive the memory.
"Was she okay?" His eyebrows furrow.
"He killed her, stranger. Then he turned on us, got through some people and then came after me," he didn't stand a chance the moment he touched my skin. He was an evil man, but even in those circumstances, I didn't want to use what I had on him. He gave me no choice. "I never saw him after that but everything changed. All cellmates were removed, my cellmate was removed. One confined to each cell. He was replaced by Screamer, next door." It was silence now, she was either asleep or her voice had broken again. But it'll start up, it always does.
"But yet, here you are. Cellmate," I narrow my eyes. "Don't let her screams drown out your thoughts, stranger. That's how you go insane in this place," my voice a dangerous whisper.
I turn away from him, suddenly tired from my burst of frustration and anger. I don't even want to look at him anymore. I crawl onto the mattress, facing away from him. Something about him doesn't feel right, I know something isn't right.
Some time had passed without a word. A distant cry could be heard and the sound of breathing keeps me awake.
"Hey, stranger," his words are a whisper in this dim cell. "My name is Jonathan."
A moment passes, then I sighed deeply. "I'm Ophelia."
I haven't heard my name be spoken in such a long time, I almost miss it.
