Emily winced as she turned on her small bed. Her whole body was aching from head to toe and every time she moved, she had to stop a scream.
Her ribs hurt the most, from the guards kicking her. They spared no amount of strength as they kicked her, and she could feel it. She could feel it, even though she was sure it'd only get worse. As time passed and the bruises started to show, the pain would increase.
But that was nothing to what she was sure the Soldier felt. She knew his pain would be tenfold. His pain made her feel guilty about complaining about her pain.
She wasn't the one that was strapped to a chair. She wasn't the one that was getting a mouthpiece shoved in to stop her teeth from breaking. She wasn't the one that got electrocuted and beaten when she failed whatever.
She was just their little punching bag. Their little pain toy. She was the one that they beat and shocked when she misbehaved. And when they were bored.
She didn't have the pressure the Soldier had. She didn't have any of that.
"Subject 4." Emily grit her teeth and clamped her eyes shut as tightly as she could.
Every time she heard a voice on the loud speaker, even if it wasn't for her, she winced. Because there was always the possibility that she would be punished.
"Pick up the envelope." She knew she would have to push herself up and walk to the door. She knew that her body would be screaming at her and that she may stumble and fall. But to ignore their demand, was like begging to have a shock.
"Subject 4..." Emily pushed herself up, painfully slow. She had to bite her lip, almost to the point of her lip bleeding, to stop the slew of curses from leaving her mouth.
But she did it. And when she hobbled over to the door, she counted to 4 before bending down and getting h envelope.
"Son of a bitch!" She threw the envelope on her bed and wrapped her arms around her waist. She could feel searing fire spread through her body, the majority at her bruised and battered ribs.
"W-why did you give me this?" She inhaled slowly. That was the only way she could've taken a breath without screaming.
"You are to call the Soldier by a name. Call him James." Emily looked up, her eyes narrowing in on the cameras in the room.
"Is that his name or have you just decided to give him one?" There was silence over the speaker. Emily didn't bother waiting to hear more. She had to get back into bed and find a comfortable spot and then lay there until she healed.
"A doctor will see you later." Emily crawled back into her bed and lay on her back, adjusting and squirming until she found the right position.
She lay her arm across her eyes and took another slow, deep breath. She didn't know why she was here. She didn't know why she had to call him James, or why they had them in the same room.
There was a lot that bothered Emily about this situation. Mostly it was her apparent amnesia. She didn't know why she was here or where she was when she was taken. She doesn't remember who her family was or is. She doesn't remember friends or aquaintances.
She knows her name. And from the food that they have brought her, she knows she hates Brussels sprouts.
But as for other things she should know, especially about herself, her mind was drawing a blank. What was her favourite colour? Season? Did she like music? Where was she born? How old was she? Did she have any pets?
"What did you do to me?" Her eyes wandered down to the band around her wrist. It had her name and a number scrawled underneath. She could see a tiny red light underneath the band, and knew it was a tracker.
"Why me?" She asked out loud but didn't receive and answer. Not that she expected one anyway.
"He's here." The voice on the loudspeaker startled her and made her jump, eliciting a screech. She felt pain again, in her ribs, and ground her teeth together. She needed to take her mind off this.
"James?" She forced herself to sit up, and when she looked over at him, she felt her breath catch in her throat.
He looked battered and beat. His lip was bleeding and he had a cut above his eye. His metal arm looked just as shiny and deadly as ever, but that didn't mean the rest of him did.
"What the hell did they do to you?" Suddenly it was like her pain was gone. She was focusing on him and his wounds. She knew she still had her ribs bruised and battered, as she could feel them, but James was worse.
"Why did they do that?" She could clearly say he failed something. What in the hell did they have him doing that he failed?
She watched him strip himself of the black and dusty shirt he wore. He casually tossed it aside, keeping his back to her. Emily could make out the scars on his back, faded but still visible.
She couldn't believe that anyone would do this to another human being. She couldn't believe that shocking and beating and almost killing someone, was what these people did.
And why? Why did they need to do this?
"James.." She spoke softly, her voice shaking. She felt her heart breaking for the man and she had barely spoken to him.
She allied his name again, not sure if she would get an answer or not. She didn't know if he ever really acknowledged her other than side glances. She doesn't even think she'd ever talked to him before.
"I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what they're doing to me or why they need me. I don't understand. And I don't know why I don't remember. I don't remember anything. My family, friends,acquaintances. It's all blank. I don't know where I was born or what day. I don't know what my favourite colour is or if I like music." Emily didn't know why she was blurting out her internal thoughts to James.
Maybe it was because she hated the silence and she need to speak. Or maybe because he was really the only one she could talk to. She didn't know why she started speaking, but once she did she couldn't stop.
"I know I don't like Brussel sprouts. They brought them once and I tried them. I spit them out and left them to become cold and rotten. I like broccoli though. And spinach. I don't like fish. That was another thing they brought that I hated." She glanced over the edge of the bed and watched him.
He was laying on his bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. She didn't know if he was ignoring her or if he was listening, but she continued to speak. Even if he tuned her out, at least she felt like they were talking.
"I think my favourite colour would be blue. I like blue. Blue like the sky when its bright and sunny. Not a cloud to be seen. Laying back in the grass, feeling the breeze." Emily sighed contently and closed her eyes.
She let her mind wander. She imagined being in a different place. In the tall grass, feeling the blades under her skin. In her mind, she was far away from here.
In her mind, she was free again.
The Soldier was surprised by the look on her face when she saw him. He was surprised by the look of horror and sadness. The way her eyes fell to every cut and trace of blood, made him feel uncomfortable.
He almost wished she would've just ignored him. He wished she wouldn't have looked because when he glanced at her, he saw emotions filling her pretty eyes.
And it stirred something in him he thought he lost a long while ago. And it made him angry.
He didn't need her. He didn't want her.
"James?" He stopped. His hand froze. He called her James. That's the name they told her to call him. And he's heard it before. It wasn't the first time 'James' has been uttered around him.
"What they hell did they do to you?" He failed. He failed his mission and that why he got punished.
And her. He grit his teeth and clenched his metal fist. They brought her there to watch him get his brain scrambled. They threw her to the ground and watched as he screamed and groaned.
And he watched as her ribs were kicked. She got hurt because she cried out for them to stop stripping his brain. She wanted to protect him and she got hurt.
"Why did they do that?" They were sons of bitches. He knew that and he knew that the little part of him that remained out of their control, was forming s plan to escape. He was fighting their hold on him.
And that's why the women were brought in. They wanted him to become emotionally attached to a woman and then they'd control him through her. That was their plan. They called it imprinting.
"James.." She called his name again. The Soldier ignored the woman and laid down on his bed, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He would ignore her and he wouldn't get attached. And then when the time was right, he'd leave.
He wouldn't be in their control for much longer.
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