"--not as well-functioning as we thought. Needs to be stronger and permanent."

"Well, now what? We need one uncontaminated for a dependable control group. Should we use someone else?"

"No, she'll be fine. Just make a higher concentration and inject accordingly."

"Right away, ma'am."

I lie groggily on a stiff surface, phasing in and out of consciousness. Bits and pieces of reality float past me like dreams, disabling me from panicking or opening my eyes.

Light tinkling noises echo softly around the room, and those light sounds are the last things I hear before a dull needle sinks into me, pulling me back under.

-- -- -- -- --

"Holland?"

It takes another three times of Stephen repeating my name to coax me awake. I sniffle and feel the weight of a million bricks on me. Stuck to the hard floor, my neck refuses to stir. Stephen's face clarifies in front of me, merely inches away from my nose.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. A disgusting bruise covers half of his face, making the untainted skin look even more thin, even more yellow.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he says. His voice, the way he says it, is so selfless.

A flash of electric pain stabs my temples. I let out a straggled heave, and my hands fly to my head. My eyes contort and shut as another flash pulses.

"Holland!"

I gasp again, eyes watering. I try to move my hands from their position, but I can't. I'm too weak to move my fingers. My vision blurs again, and the sharp pains keep pulsing. I start panicking.

Stephen rushes to calm me. "Holland, it's okay. I promise, it'll be okay." I barely feel him close his hand around mine, squeezing, trying to give me something to hold on to.

I scream, rolling onto my side and curling against his chest. I feel him jolt in surprise then relax again. My cheek rests against his warm shirt, the only thing warm in the icy, white room. His free arm wraps around my back, and our hands stay locked together.

"T-the injection-n," I stutter, "They gave m-me another in--"

A massive lightning bolt slams inside my head, the pain blinding. My shouts bounces off the walls, yet Stephen doesn't reply to me. He just smooths a piece of my hair out of my face, jumping at every one of my ear-splitting yells.

The jolts continue for eternity. Stephen's shirt dampens against my cheek, and I realize it's my own cold tears soaking it.

Then a larger electrical pulse explodes in my head, forcing the thought a million miles away. I release a high-pitched scream, my hands squeezing Stephen's as I press closer to him. I strain my muscles as hard as I can, trying to distract myself from the pain with movement. I practically suffocate the life out of Stephen, but his fingers squeeze back, still intact.

The pulses begin subside, fading in intensity and quantity. I stay wrapped up with Stephen, fearing another knife will rip through my head. Slowly loosening my fingers from Stephen's hand, my palms feel wet and disgusting.

"They over?" Stephen asks.

I nod, my eyes not leaving his pale shirt. Stephen uses his thumb to draw rhythmic circles on my forearm. He comforts me, soothing me after my first experiment. Around, and around, and around his thumb traces.

The door sounds. My eyes dart towards the wall, wide and fearful, and I throw my back against the wall. A gloved hand pushes a bundle through the partially-open door, and we're locked back in our cell with an empty swoosh.

My heart thuds rapidly in my chest as I take a deep breath. The man left. He's gone. Shakily, I begin to stand, but my legs threaten to give out underneath me.

"Holland," Stephen says, "Holland, I'll--"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I say, embarrassed for ruining his shirt and his dignity. "I'll retrieve the stupid thing myself."

"No, really, I'll get it," he says genuinely, standing up and snatching the bundle from the middle of the room. Defeated, I scoot against the wall again.

Stephen sits down and hands me the small stack of cloth. I don't thank him because I'm too ashamed of how much he's helped me, of how much I need him. I hate being the liability.

I sift through the clothes, unfolding a white v-neck and navy sweatpants. The warm, thick fabrics are ten times more luxurious than my hospital gown. It disgusts me. Every single thread.

Stephen says distantly, "It's your reward for enduring the experiment... I had my fair share of them, too."

I glance at Stephen and convince myself I don't want it. I don't want to trade pain for clothing I never asked for. Too bad I don't have a choice in the matter.

"You handled it really well, though," he says. "Screamed about half as much as I did my first time."

"Really?" I say.

"Yeah," he replies. He looks at me for at least a few seconds, and I can't read his thoughts.

I sigh to myself in despair, changing into the clothes under my hospital gown and tossing the papery dress into the corner of the room, just in case I need to make a bed from it. I still can't believe this is happening. Why can't I just wake up from this nightmare? Why isn't anyone rescuing us from these criminals?

Stephen gives me a questioning look. My heart jumps in my chest. Did I just say that out loud? I give him an innocent, wide-eyed look. "What?" I say.

"Nothing," he says, letting a heavy silence descend on us. The pounding quiet makes me self-conscious, and the feeling of a boy next to me is foreign and uncomfortable, especially since I cried my eyes out on his shirt.

I twist the hem of my shirt around my finger in different patterns, attempting to alleviate the pressure in the room. I feel Stephen's eyes watching my fingers, restoring the pressure. This goes on for hours.

"You've been gone for a week," Stephen declares dryly. "Seven days."

"I have?" I clear my throat. "It only felt like an hour or so."

"Nope. Seven days. Then I was also taken for a session, so I lost track of an extra day or two."

Silence descends between us. "Tell me about your first day here," I ask Stephen, surprising myself. I'm not normally a nosy person. But all the rules went out the window after waking up in the Enhancement Project.

"It went exactly like yours, like this," Stephen says. I hear the distance in his voice. "Scare tactic followed by a fake escape adventure. Then I sat here and waited for more."

The lights suddenly switch off, dropping us into a pit of blackness. I scream out loud, accidently slapping the back of my head against the wall. I groan in pain as Stephen chuckles lowly to my right.

"Sleep tight, 400."

"Sleep? How am I-- ow!" I grunt, my fingers flying to my temples. My eyes water in response, already anticipating a set of pulses. I hope I'm wrong.

"What the heck," Stephen mumbles, his voice rising to an exclaim, "I just saw something flash from your temples."

"What?" I say.

"I just saw it, right now. A little bit of light just flashed from your temples, right underneath the skin."

"That's impossible," I say, feeling my temples again, "That doesn't make any sense."

"It has to make sense," Stephen says, pausing, "Wait, don't move."

Before I can object, Stephen's fingers press on my temples, grazing my skin to search for something under the surface. "No, this isn't weird at all," I mumble under my breath.

Stephen chuckles, his warm breath on my skin. I smile into the dark.

I wait a few seconds, frozen in place, as Stephen feels my temples. "Yup, that's it," Stephen concludes after a long moment. "There's something under there."

My grin vanishes. "I didn't feel anything before."

"Here," he says, grabbing my hand. He guides my fingers to the exact spot on my left temple as I hold my breath. He moves my pointer finger slightly, and then I feel it: a small edge.

"Oh, God," I say, "that must be--"

"Be where the pain's coming from," Stephen finishes for me. "It all makes sense; the pain, the faint scars, the--"

"Scars?"

"Yeah, scars," Stephen says absentmindedly, pausing for another moment. "Well, I'm going to try to sleep." He slide a few feet into the dark.

"Stephen?" I call quietly.

"Yeah?"

"My feet are freezing."

He chuckles, "I know. Mine are, too."

"And also, Stephen," I start, regretting my words after I say them, "If I ever make it out of here, I'll come back for you somehow. I really will."

"Oh, Holland," Stephen sighs. "We're never making it out of here alive."

-- -- -- -- --

sorry for the long wait; i've been super busy with school. anyways, i've revealed the color "navy" if you caught it, and for some reason, i knew that i'd specifically want holland's sweatpants to be navy. weird, i know.

answer this question in the comments to vote for your choice. winning choice is featured in the next update, and you might get a dedication or something :) so here we go.

Question 1: Pick a number: 6, 7, or 8.

Question 2: Pick a phrase which will match up with the next chapter's events: sooner, later, or never.

EXCITING NEWS! it has come to that time where a ship name is revealed, and can you guess what holland and stephen's ship name is?

HEPHEN! (i think it sounds totally amazing. agree?)

i literally just reread that with an added drum roll effect and confetti cannons. and you probably went back to do so, too.

you're too cute.