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“Oh, we don’t ask about the why here. We just do as we’re told and are grateful that it is,” she says. “Now if you come out here, you can see your bed and the window that you can program to whatever place you would like it to be.” She walks to another door at the end of the bed. “Here is the bathroom.”
The bathroom has white tiles all over, a shower on the left side of the door, a single vanity with a mirror in the middle and a toilet on the right. “The tiles can’t be white.” The young girl says simply.
“Excuse me, what did you say?”
“The tiles, they can’t be white, also the walls. They need to be painted.”
“But why?”
“You said to never ask about the why. Please, the colours need to change.” She says. There are tears glistening in her eyes, but also a hint of a mischievous smile.
“Well…I’m not sure…I suppose…” she says, startled by the girl’s blunt statement. “Anyway, I will leave you here while you get used to your new room.”
* * *
“EMERSON!” the voice yells out from the darkness, and I shake my eyes open. I am in the same bathroom that I was in when I was eight. Everything is in the same place, except the tiles are a navy that matches the walls of my room. I must have gotten my way after all.
I walk over to the door and open it. Jasper is there, dressed in a plain red shirt and black pants. He’s distracted, fiddling with his pencil, not making eye contact. “Are you alright?” He says to the floor, “I’ve been calling out to you for the past ten minutes. What have you even been doing?”
“Sorry,” I apologise and step aside so that he could come in, but it’s as if his feet are tangled in vines. They don’t move an inch. “Do you want to come in?”
“No, I’ve got things to do today. I just came to say that someone will be here in about ten minutes to take you where you need to go.” Things to do? What has gotten into him? I rack my mind to think of what this could be about. What’s gone on to make him so cold and business like?
That’s when realisation hits me, “Is this because of whatever your father spoke to you about? Did it have to do with me?”
“No, it didn’t.” I don’t understand what his issue is, but he wishes me a good day and walks off before I get the chance to ask him.
I close the door resentfully, sit back on my nice, comfortable bed and look around at my prison. Everything in my life seems to be like this. A prison. The walls are just different shades of the same, inescapable nightmare.
A short time later, another knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” I almost allow myself to hope that it’s Jasper waiting at my door, wanting to talk about whatever is going on. It isn’t. It is some random middle-aged man who calls himself Mark.
“Come with me,” he says, fully expecting me to blindly follow him.
“Why?” It seems as if he isn’t programmed for this answer because he spasms and tells me to come again as if he didn’t say it two seconds ago. He’s probably been brainwashed, conditioned to say whatever Albert has programmed him to say.
I sit back on my bed, and he comes into my room grabbing me roughly by the arm. I try to pull away, but his strong grip won’t let me go. “LET ME GO, MARK!” Instantly he drops his arm and stares off into the distance.
I am almost certain that he has been brainwashed by the CSO. There is no other logical reason as to why his expression would be so blank and unforgiving.
“Follow me, Emerson, we have an appointment, and you are running late.” Mark announces in a solid, monotone voice.
“I’m not following you anywhere until you tell me where you’re taking me.” I argue. I have every intention just to sit here all day pondering over life and trying to figure out how I can escape. I will not let myself be dragged around by some brainwashed, old man who isn’t Jasper.
I hear a sound coming from somewhere in Mark’s pocket, “Emerson, stop complaining and get to my office now!” It’s Albert. His voice, brimming with anger, immediately puts me on edge. It’s not that I’m scared of what will happen to me if I don’t obey him. Instead, it’s the urgency in his voice that makes me rise from my bed and walk out the door. My mind fast tracks to the gang. Where are they?
I need to talk to Albert to make sure they are safe. As much as Mason is considered the leader because of his age, they are my family. It is my responsibility to look after them.
Mark briskly overtakes me, acting as if he is the one that made me get out of my room. We get in the elevator, despite my objections, and take the long journey up to Albert’s office. When we arrive, Mark opens the door for me and lets me in. I sit cautiously, aware of Mark’s dominating presence behind me, probably making sure that I don’t make a run for it. “Thank you, Mark, you are excused.” Albert says, and Mark obediently leaves the room.
“So, Emerson, we had quite an eventful day yesterday, are you well rested?” Albert asks.
“The gang. Are they safe?” I interrupt. I am not in the mood for small talk. All I want is to be back home with them.
“Yes, Emerson. You think I am not true to my word?”
“I don’t know, I can’t remember what happened.” I retort. I try to remember back to the last moment I was with the gang, but my mind draws a blank. I remember being in a car, I remember telling Aubrey about my mum, I remember Hayden telling me about his distrust for Jasper, I remember walking into an armoury. And then I remember waking up in the same bed that I slept in when I was eight.
“Yes, well I thought it would be easier for everyone if you didn’t have to say goodbye,” he says like he was doing me a favour. “You have no need to worry, I had Jasper personally escort them back to your little ‘home’.” He spits out the last word like the idea of my home is laughable.
