Chapter 9 - Violent Nine Year Old

The truck slows to a stop and the man is quick on his feet as he comes over and takes off my handcuffs. He picks me up under my armpits and carries me near his ribs.

I shove him. Hard.

I'm not a five year old that needs to be carried.

"Just trust me, I'm on your side, kid. Things are changing here, and they aren't changing for the better. Listen to me, and I'll keep you safe, got it?" He whispers to me in a rushed tone.

I nod, hoping that he is telling the truth, and that I can really trust him.

The air is slightly bitter as we completely leave the truck. The chilly breeze nips my ears as my chocolate hair blows to my left with the direction of the wind.

The breeze nips at my ears and the tip of my nose as dad lifts me up in his arms, his large arms warming my smaller ones. The wind whips around us as my hair blows along with it, making me feel as if I'm flying.

"Dad?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Why can't I fly?"

"Who ever told you that you couldn't?"

Before I could reply, he shifted me in his arms and held me horizontally with his head and ran. I laughed as I spread my arms out and became one with the wind.


As I look around, I notice that there is barely any plant life in the area. There's no trees, no grass or no flowers. Just a lot of white buildings; both new and old.

"Listen carefully to everything I say now. Don't question it, just do it."

I nod.

"Whatever you do, don't tell them how old you really are. Act like you are younger too. Maybe like you're seven or eight. Don't tell them anything about your past. And definitely do not tell them you are from Milwaukee. Don't tell them your name, age, or home, the names of your parents, or anything that could lead them to who you truly are. Act as young as you possibly can. Feel free to make up a name for yourself or tell them your seven or whatever. Just do not tell them the truth. You're smart, and I'm sure you can pull it off. I'll be back in a while. Something big is going to happen in the next few days. Things are changing... Just be aware of that."

He carries me past a tall, strange blue sculpture that has water dripping slowly from it, and then through a large, crisp, white door.

Everything inside of the building is white and crisp, but run down and old. It looks like it must be one of the older buildings. The man carries me down a long hallway with multiple doors.

It reminds me of the one doctors office in the middle of town back home.

All of the patient rooms lined up, awaiting the death of innocent, nervous people that will enter them to never return happy.

I never liked going to the doctors office...

The man opens a door and brings me into it, shutting it behind us.

"Stay safe. Remember." He kisses the top of my head, then leaves in a rush.

Ew. Gross.

I get it that it's suppose to be a nice gesture.

But no.

Gross.

The old room has very new technology in it, doctorly machines and other gadgets are askew around the very bright, white room. My heart races out of my chest out of the thought of them using any of these torturous gadgets on me. I notice a small black bulb with a tiny red light in the corner of the room by the door.

They're watching me.

How am I suppose to act younger? I've always acted old for my age, or at least so I've been told I do.

I look behind me to see a table filled with needles with colored liquids.

I remember my father telling about something like them before.

Serums.

That's what they were called: serums.

The horrific stories of those serums being used the wrong way brings tears to my eyes that I can't control. They fall freely from my face as nervousness and fear takes over my body.

I don't want them to use those on me.

The door opens and two people; male and female, come in wearing coats as white as a sheet of paper. I feel a single tear of fear run down my face.

What are they going to do to me?

I feel the tears continue to fall after that single one; a river being fueled by the gushing waterfall of my eyes.

"Oh dear. Don't worry darling, there's no need to cry. You're okay. We won't hurt you, I promise." One of the women rests her hand on my shoulder but I quickly flinch away from her tanned hand, not wanting her hand on me or any of her comfort.

"Promise?" I feel my inner nine year old shine through my true age.

The woman chuckles, "Of course. I promise." She puts her pinky out to me as a 'pinky promise', but I don't move my hands and she puts her hand down in defeat.

"Why are you crying?" A tall male nurse asks me.

"I-- I'm scared. I miss my daddy." I cry.

I guess it's not a total lie...

I let the tears continue even though I could have pulled myself together minutes ago. I need to act younger than my actual age, just like the man said to.

"What about your mother, dear? Is she alive?" The woman asks.

"Sh-She died." I say not wanting to elaborate. I sob, hiding my head in my hands.

Yet again... Not a total lie. Just not the elaborated truth.

"What's your name, hun? How old are you?" The man asks in a quiet, calming tone. He's so calm that I almost answer him, but then bite the inside of my cheek to get myself to shut up.

I shake my head no.

The man nods and turns around to a clipboard on the table behind him. He takes a pen, clicks the ink inside of it into place, then begins writing. I find myself captivated by the way his hand glides so quickly across the paper, like he does it all day and his hand is just a one way trip with no interferences from his brain to his hand. I just stare at his hand, and the woman notices too, but I don't care.

I'm not going to answer any personal questions.

"Did you grow up in the city?" The woman asks me the question this time.

"Where am I?" I ask.

"Will you tell me your age if I tell you where you are?" The man asks.

Yeah, sure. I can tell you my "age" if you tell me that.

Haha sarcasm.

My father told me I got my sarcasm from my mother; it was the one thing my mother and I had in common besides our brunette hair.

I nod, coming out of my hands a little bit, but still looking at the clipboard.

The man picks up the clipboard, clearly noticing that I'm distracted by it. I look at him and he raises his eyebrows at me. I cower back into my hands slightly.

"Nine." I say quietly while hiding.

He writes on the clipboard again. Thank goodness I have yet to truly grow very tall for being eleven, or else I'd probably struggle with lying about being two years younger.

"Where am I?" I cry.

"You're at the Bureau of Genetic Welfare." He says straightly with no emotion. His hand flys across the paper while he still speaks.

The woman turns around and starts mumbling something to the man.

"... need to?" "No. Just give her ...necessary immunizations. She's... young to remember. Don't bother testing her. Her results would be unclear from her age most likely." I catch bits and pieces of what the man whispers to the woman, but he clearly gives up whispering by the last sentence. "We have a lot of people to check and need to move on. She's an easy one compared to the rest, at least she should be."

The man packs up a few things, then comes over to me.

"Hun, the easier you cooperate, the easier this will be, okay?" He says quickly, then takes my left arm with a strong grip. I resist him, pulling my arm away.

"Get off of me!" I cry.

"Just work with me here and it will be easier!" He says sternly, then grabs my arm successfully.

The woman grabs my right arm and cuffs it to the chair, keeping me from swatting at the man and yanking his hair.

I scream.

They're going to kill me.

I can't die.

I'm too young to die.

The man cleans my arm off quick, then holds my arm from moving as the woman comes over and sticks a needle in my arm. I scream, leaning over and biting the woman's arm.

I taste blood.

It makes me gag as the woman screams, blood dripping down her arm as she runs from the room.

The man attaches stuff to the tube going to the needle in my arm, then leaves casually.

I leave my arm on the arm of the chair, as stiff as a board. I cannot stand the feeling of the needle piercing my skin from the inside when I move. I could use my teeth to take the needle out, but I can't bring myself to the feeling of the needle being pulled at a weird angle from my flesh by my teeth.

But hey, I'm probably the most violent "nine year old" they've ever met.

A/N

Hi humans!

I'm back for the summer now! Updated will be every Tuesday, and possibly some Friday's as well.

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