My mind feels foggy as we walk back towards the rooms. My eyes burn, and are taking long moments to adjust to the brighter light out here. I don’t understand what just happened, and no matter how many ways I look at it, it makes no sense to me. He held me as though I were a child. He stroked my hair, and then he let me go with some murmured words into my ear. There seems no point in his actions. Was he trying to soothe me? Have me trust him so he can do something different? Something worse?
The minute we reach the room, the guards open the door and shove me in, uncuffing me before slamming it behind me. I turn immediately and grip the door handle, shaking it. It’s locked, and my stomach twists. I am still trembling, and I take a moment to close my eyes and breathe, gathering myself before turning and fa fo%cing the girls in the room.
They are all sitting on their beds, staring at me, their eyes weary. I walk over to what has clearly been left as my bed, and I slowly sit, still trying to process my thoughts. It’s Number Seven that speaks first, her voice low and soft. I realize it’s the first time she’s spoken. I lift my eyes, and stare into her chocolate-brown eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
It takes me a moment to answer the question, even though I’m fully aware of the answer.
“No.”
Number Three looks at us from her bed, and her lip trembles. She’s fragile; I saw that the moment I laid eyes on her. I can see the fear in her depths; she doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and it’s not a fact she can deal with easily. We’re all scared, but she’s gone far and beyond that. She’s petrified. I try to smile at her, but it comes out wobbly and broken. I have nothing to give her. I can’t give her hope, because I have as little of it left as everyone else.
“Was he...awful?” Number Twelve asks, lifting herself from the bed and tucking her dark-red hair behind her ears. She walks over and sits on the bed beside me.
“No,” I whisper, my voice crackly. “He just made me sit on his lap. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Did you see him?” Number Seven asks.
I shake my head. “No, I was blindfolded, and the room was dark.”
They’re all quiet as they take this in. Number Three begins to sob softly, and she rubs her hands over her thighs in a repetitive motion. “Why can’t I remember anything? Why are we here?”
Her questions are questions we’ve probably all asked ourselves, and she knows as well as I do that we don’t have the answers to them. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to rouse a memory, but nothing comes. I’m completely blank, and frustration swells in my chest. I force my mind away from the emptiness, and I look back at the three other girls in my group. With the biggest voice I can muster up, which is still barely a whisper, I say, “We’re all here, and we don’t know why, but we can stick together. We can help each other. We can be there for each other. We’ll find a way out, but if we crumble, we’ll have nothing left.”
They all nod slowly in agreement.
“There are cameras,” Number Seven whispers, lifting her eyes to the roof.
“I know,” I say, not looking at the cameras.
I stare around the room, and try to find something I can write on but there’s nothing. There aren’t any drawers, or a desk. It’s just beds, and a closet that I already know only holds clothes. The other girls follow my movements, understanding what I’m trying to do. They speak to me with their eyes, letting me know they understand. We can’t say anything out loud in here, but we can communicate. Perhaps in the night, when the room is dark, we could whisper.
I hear the creak of the door, and turn to see the guard stepping back into the room. He wheels in a cart, and unloads four trays off it, placing them on the tables beside our beds. He doesn’t look at us as he moves, but I know he’s on full alert. One movement from us, and he’d swing into action. He steps back towards the door when he’s done, and turns to us. “It’s late afternoon. Eat your supper and prepare yourselves for bed. Everything on that plate is to be eaten, the milk is to be fully consumed. If you don’t do as I ask, you’ll be punished.”
Then he steps out and slams the door.
We’re all starving, and the moment we smell the food fiy m the foll the room, we all get to our feet and shuffle to our trays. I lift the silver lid to reveal a plate of food, and my stomach turns angrily with want. I inhale the rich scent of roast beef and potatoes, and my mouth fills with saliva at the thought of taking my first bite. I don’t remember when I last ate, but I do know I’m starving now, and this food is like luxury in this moment.
I sit on the bed, and I lift my plastic fork. They haven’t provided us with a knife, but that doesn’t shock me. I stab the fork into the sliced tender roast beef, and I pop a piece into my mouth. I groan with delight as I chew, taking in the flavors, enjoying the taste as they dance on my tongue. Next I stab a potato, and repeat the same process as I devour it. I eat everything on my plate, right down to the last pea, and then I use the bread roll on the side to dab up the last of the gravy.
I’m so full now, but remembering the guard’s words to eat and drink everything, I reach over and take the glass of milk. It’s warm, which surprises me. I breathe it in before pressing the glass to my lips, and swallowing the liquid in four big gulps. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, and turn to see the other girls have all finished their food and milk, too. I lift myself off the bed, and walk over to the closet, figuring they require us to get changed before bed. I pick out a plain white nightdress, and I walk into the bathroom to change into it, and brush my teeth.