Here's chapter 3! Enjoy!

Our Broken Days

Chapter 3

"Oh no." I said at the realization of who might have our actual birth records. "No no no no no no, I'm not back to that hell. Fang I can't, that place is the reason that I have these nightmares every night. They just keep getting scarier and scarier, and I'm not going back there."

"I know I don't want to go back either, but don't you want to see who our parents are? Besides we can kick their butts when we get there, we know that we can fight them." He protested.

"But, Fang, don't you remember what they did to us there? Fang, they cut us open, while we were awake!" I say instinctively touching the big scar running down the length I my stomach. "Fang, they were the reason I tried to kill myself back there!"

*FLASHBACK*

And instantly, my mind flashed back to when Fang and I were eleven. They threw us back into our cages after they were done doing some emotional testing. I was crying my eyeballs out while Fang was staring at the floor of his cage with tears streaming down his cheeks. Those bastards made us cry—I'm pretty sure for their own entertainment this time—once again. They broke us down, I'll admit it. But what those dumbasses didn't know was when they went after me when I tried to fly out of the emotional testing room, and into the surgery room across from it, is that I secretly grabbed a scalpel from the tiny tin table and hid it in the small pocket of the crappy night gowns they gave us. When they left us, I took it out and Fang must've noticed because he looked at me.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, horrified. Back then we didn't have names. I was subject 10445-A and Fang was 10446-A so we picked names for ourselves. I picked Maximum, and Fang couldn't decide between Dune and Fang, do I just chose for him, I chose Fang, obviously. But he looked at me and then the small knife, then back at me. "You wouldn't. Please, Max. Don't do it. If you go then I'll have no one here. Please, Max, it's not worth it." Once again he read me like an open book with just glance at my eyes.

"I have too, Fang. I can't take it anymore, I just can't. We'll never escape and I don't want to die at the hands of these bastards. I have to go now I just can't take it. I need to be free now, and right now, this is the only option. I'm sick of being their puppet, their toy" I spat. "I can't take the pain anymore. Surely nothing is worse than this." Through this sheer night gown you can see every scar on my body. The one running down my stomach, there is one running the down the length of my spine. When they would train us to fight, or make us do physical tests, they would whip us, creating angry, bleeding scars all over my body, my legs, arms, back… anything would be better than this.

"Please, Max, don't. You can't leave me alone; I can't live if you're not going to. This would be worse for me, living without you here. It would be worse that any physical pain that they cause us. Just…please, don't do this. Please. For me." Fang tried to speak between sobs. He's really crying now, like this is actually causing him pain. Then I started to cry too. I couldn't stand to see him like this. He put his fingers through the bars of his cage. I did too and we touched fingers. That was when we realized what we felt for each other. But I'm sorry, Fang. My mind is already made up.

"Okay, I won't" I lied. I would wait for him to fall asleep at night, or at least turn around so I can do it. I put the scalpel into my pocket, lay down and sighed.

Night fell upon us and Fang was turned to the opposite side, but I know that he wasn't sleeping; I mean who could sleep in a place like this? So I have to do this as quietly as possible. I sat up, leaning on the bars of my cage and took the scalpel out of my pocket. I took a deep breath, my heart is beating so hard and fast it could've cracked one of my ribs. Then I started crying silently. I'm so sorry, Fang. But I have to do this. I think. I raised my left hand, wrist up, took another deep breath, pressed the blade into my wrist, and dragged it diagonally down. The pain was excruciating, but I thought: don't worry; it'll all be over soon. The pain will be gone. But it was too much to handle, so I screamed, I held my wrist with my other hand, trying to suppress the other scream, but I let out a squeak. Fang turned around and saw me holding my left wrist, and a shiny liquid pouring over my hand.

"HEEEEY, HEY, SOMEONE, HELP, HELP HER!" he shouted. There was always some whitecoats here during the middle of the night. Someone rushed over and opened my cage and pulled me out; the bloody scalpel clattering to the floor. Everything went fuzzy and there were voices shouting, but they were all echo-ey. Then I blacked out.

The next thing I knew, I was back in my cage, with the crusted blood on the floor and my wrist bandaged up and stitched. Figured that they wouldn't want their little toy to break, but just bend to the point of madness. Fang gave me a good hard lecture, and even slapped me for making such a stupid decision. But we eventually got over it, and a year later we escaped.

*PRESENT*

And two years later that memory still haunts me and the scar is still on my wrist.

"Yes, I remember" Fang said, his head bowed low, and his voice is deep and soft, it scares me when he talks like this. It reminds me of just how strong and powerful he is. And it scares me. "I remember perfectly well. But we can bring weapons, guns; we can pop their heads off if they try to touch us." He said, snapping his mind out of the pitiful memory.

"Yeah, but where are we gonna get guns?" I asked. He held up his finger to say, "One second" and rushed off to the end of the hall. "Hey! What are you doing?" I shouted down the hall; craning my neck to see him digging around the closet. He came back carrying two handguns, and hands one to me. I hold it at my fingertips like it's the most dangerous thing in the world. "Where in the seven hells did you get this?" "Oh, you know… places." He says with one of those rare, beautiful Fang – smiles. I'm impressed.

"Sooo… we have… guns. That we don't know how to shoot" I say. That wiped the smiled off his face.

"Well… when in doubt…. Internet!" he said as he leaped to the computer. Jesus, I thought that I would never see Fang, the usually unemotional, distant, mysterious, Fang, leap. Oh? How do we have a computer, you ask? Well with a few trips to the nearest junkyard (which is like fifty miles away) and some clever wiring, we have a computer, with exceptional internet, and a fully operational television. I guess you pick up some technology tips when you grow up in a lab for practically your whole life.

So with some research, and a couple of videos, we learned how to shoot a gun, it's pretty easy, just point and squeeze the trigger. It's actually fun, whoa, I tell myself don't get trigger happy, Max. A trigger happy Max, is a dangerous Max. Now that I can shoot a gun that makes me a triple threat: I can shoot, I can fly, and I can kick a fully grown man's butt. Nice, Max, nice.

"So, you ready?" Fang asks.

"Let's to it" I say as I push a bullet magazine into my gun. Now that I have a gun, that really reassures me about going back there. We go to the back of the house; we stop at the cliff's edge, and look down, same as always, about 500 feet down. We stand side by side; we look at each other, and smile. We take a few steps back, run and jump. I'm free falling with Fang, than I snap my wings out and woosh! The wind catches and pulls me up. I start to move them up and down, lifting me up. I see Fang beside me, his dark wings shining next to mine. The tip of my wing brushes his and I shiver. I can feel the gun in my pocket. He holds out his hand, and I take it, remembering the promise that we made, or more like broke.

"Are you ready to kick some whitecoat butt?" Fang asks.

"Hell yes."

What did you think? Please leave your reviews.

-pheonix :)