How to Disappear Completely
Disappear.
Deleon's broken arm is in a sling, and Colligan's sprained ankle is in a cast. Almost all the young boys have a broken bone of some sort. Mrotek's training has been harsher lately; possibly lashing out on them because of his own pain. Or maybe something's coming up soon.
"I'm sick of you children falling behind in math." Chislett almost flips the heavy oak table over, but squeezes the chair's wooden back instead. Snap. "If you can't pass this, you'll never get anywhere. Now study your math, or Mrotek will be breaking more bones." He stops off, clutching the imperfect test scores. He shoves them into Siska's chest. "Look at these. They're absolutely horrible."
Johnson missed half a question.
Marshall missed the last part of a question.
Deleon missed the first part of a question.
"They're not that bad. They're just some silly mistakes." Siska shrugs. "They're just kids. I mean...the youngest, Marshall, is nine now. Multi-variable Calculus used to be a college course."
Chislett grabs Siska's gray dress shirt and shoves him onto the white wall. The chandeliers shake. The children don't seem to be fazed. "They aren't perfect." Chislett's knuckles are white, and Siska can hardly breathe. I reach out and squeeze Chislett's arm, but his arms flex instead. "If they can't be perfect, they'll never survive." He releases Siska and stomps off.
"...Since when did being perfect become the very core of our existence? We're trying to free our race--" I slap Siska. "Not you too!" He scowls. "What's with the waves upon waves of abuse?"
"Siska, one slip, and they could be destroyed. Found out by Big Brother. Murdered. Killed. Just enough time, and Big Brother would destroy them. We can't act as if everything is just fine. We can't act as if one little mistake is okay. They have to realize making mistakes can cause death."
"Can't we be somewhat nice?" Siska frowns. "I don't want them to...you know. Be hurt by our actions and such."
"You can, but the rest of us aren't going to let up." I stroll to the back to reach the sparring room in order to stretch.
But Beckett is sitting on the blue matting. Mrotek and Durden aren't in-sight. Strange. "Why are you here?" I slip my new, black stilettos off and sit down. I reach for my right foot.
He kicks his feet a little, and then swings his arms. "I wanted a challenge." He unbuttons his gray dress shirt and throws it at the bench. "Are you up for it?"
I put up my fists, and he puts up his. I throw the first punch, and he grabs my fist, twisting my arm to my back. I trip him with my left leg, and we're both on the ground. Beckett sits on my back, my arm still behind me. "Give up yet?"
I elbow his side.
"Hey, that's dirty."
He's still holding onto my arm. I elbow him again, but this time, he seizes my other arm. I kick his back, making him lurch forward, and then headbutt him. Beckett lets go.
"I think we're done for the day." He holds his nose delicately, and I reach for the tissue box. He wipes the blood from his chin and plugs up his nose. "I guess I can't subject myself to doing any strenuous activity today." Mrotek and Durden are looking through the glass doors. They watch Beckett toss out the bloody tissue and grab three fresh ones. "You've gotten stronger, I can tell. I'll see you later, Rory." He doesn't bother reaching for his gray shirt.
Beckett waltzes out of the sparring room, hand clamped on his nose. I feel a pang of guilt in my chest, but I don't understand why.
"Rory, control your strength," Mrotek suggests as I exit. "You can't hurt everyone in your way."
"Watch me."
I decide to take a swim; I feel tense. I watch Carden dive into the pool and start a 500 meter butterfly and wonder if I could do the same. We could race, knowing he'd win. We both know I'm not a swimmer.
I change into a gray swimsuit and dive into the pool. I start a freestyle, and I can somewhat see Carden gaining speed. He's smiling; I can see him eying me through his dark goggles. I flip and launch off with my feet, accelerating to the other end of the pool. Carden's flipping at the other side and continues his butterfly. If I swim faster, I'll feel as though I'm drowning.
I slow down as I reach the wall, panting. Carden stops in the middle of his lane, treading water. "What's up, Rory? Can't swim fast enough?" I glance at the windows to see if anyone's watching, and my eyes fall onto Mrotek and Durden. He grabs her hand and jerks her towards the library. "Cat got your tongue?"
I take the black swimming cap off my head and the dark goggles from my eyes. "I don't own a cat. I've never owned a cat." I step out of the water and grab a towel. Carden climbs out too, a frown on his face.
"Aww, hey, Rory. C'mon, I can't swim without a buddy! Hey!" He stops, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. "Man, is this place just full of people who just don't listen to you?" He shakes his head, smirking. "My, my, did Big Brother make some stiff people..."
"Carden, your jokes aren't funny. I'll see you." I storm into the women's changing room and slip into the shower. Big Brother created super humans, not sweet talkers, nor smartasses, nor social butterflies. We were created for menial jobs. Building explosives. Creating square buildings. Making clothes. Being the entertainment for Big Brother's associates.
I reach for the shampoo to wash out the chlorine in my hair and watch the soap bubbles swirl down the drain.
Disappearing never seemed so easy.
"I'm sick of you children falling behind in math." Chislett almost flips the heavy oak table over, but squeezes the chair's wooden back instead. Snap. "If you can't pass this, you'll never get anywhere. Now study your math, or Mrotek will be breaking more bones." He stops off, clutching the imperfect test scores. He shoves them into Siska's chest. "Look at these. They're absolutely horrible."
Johnson missed half a question.
Marshall missed the last part of a question.
Deleon missed the first part of a question.
"They're not that bad. They're just some silly mistakes." Siska shrugs. "They're just kids. I mean...the youngest, Marshall, is nine now. Multi-variable Calculus used to be a college course."
Chislett grabs Siska's gray dress shirt and shoves him onto the white wall. The chandeliers shake. The children don't seem to be fazed. "They aren't perfect." Chislett's knuckles are white, and Siska can hardly breathe. I reach out and squeeze Chislett's arm, but his arms flex instead. "If they can't be perfect, they'll never survive." He releases Siska and stomps off.
"...Since when did being perfect become the very core of our existence? We're trying to free our race--" I slap Siska. "Not you too!" He scowls. "What's with the waves upon waves of abuse?"
"Siska, one slip, and they could be destroyed. Found out by Big Brother. Murdered. Killed. Just enough time, and Big Brother would destroy them. We can't act as if everything is just fine. We can't act as if one little mistake is okay. They have to realize making mistakes can cause death."
"Can't we be somewhat nice?" Siska frowns. "I don't want them to...you know. Be hurt by our actions and such."
"You can, but the rest of us aren't going to let up." I stroll to the back to reach the sparring room in order to stretch.
But Beckett is sitting on the blue matting. Mrotek and Durden aren't in-sight. Strange. "Why are you here?" I slip my new, black stilettos off and sit down. I reach for my right foot.
He kicks his feet a little, and then swings his arms. "I wanted a challenge." He unbuttons his gray dress shirt and throws it at the bench. "Are you up for it?"
I put up my fists, and he puts up his. I throw the first punch, and he grabs my fist, twisting my arm to my back. I trip him with my left leg, and we're both on the ground. Beckett sits on my back, my arm still behind me. "Give up yet?"
I elbow his side.
"Hey, that's dirty."
He's still holding onto my arm. I elbow him again, but this time, he seizes my other arm. I kick his back, making him lurch forward, and then headbutt him. Beckett lets go.
"I think we're done for the day." He holds his nose delicately, and I reach for the tissue box. He wipes the blood from his chin and plugs up his nose. "I guess I can't subject myself to doing any strenuous activity today." Mrotek and Durden are looking through the glass doors. They watch Beckett toss out the bloody tissue and grab three fresh ones. "You've gotten stronger, I can tell. I'll see you later, Rory." He doesn't bother reaching for his gray shirt.
Beckett waltzes out of the sparring room, hand clamped on his nose. I feel a pang of guilt in my chest, but I don't understand why.
"Rory, control your strength," Mrotek suggests as I exit. "You can't hurt everyone in your way."
"Watch me."
I decide to take a swim; I feel tense. I watch Carden dive into the pool and start a 500 meter butterfly and wonder if I could do the same. We could race, knowing he'd win. We both know I'm not a swimmer.
I change into a gray swimsuit and dive into the pool. I start a freestyle, and I can somewhat see Carden gaining speed. He's smiling; I can see him eying me through his dark goggles. I flip and launch off with my feet, accelerating to the other end of the pool. Carden's flipping at the other side and continues his butterfly. If I swim faster, I'll feel as though I'm drowning.
I slow down as I reach the wall, panting. Carden stops in the middle of his lane, treading water. "What's up, Rory? Can't swim fast enough?" I glance at the windows to see if anyone's watching, and my eyes fall onto Mrotek and Durden. He grabs her hand and jerks her towards the library. "Cat got your tongue?"
I take the black swimming cap off my head and the dark goggles from my eyes. "I don't own a cat. I've never owned a cat." I step out of the water and grab a towel. Carden climbs out too, a frown on his face.
"Aww, hey, Rory. C'mon, I can't swim without a buddy! Hey!" He stops, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. "Man, is this place just full of people who just don't listen to you?" He shakes his head, smirking. "My, my, did Big Brother make some stiff people..."
"Carden, your jokes aren't funny. I'll see you." I storm into the women's changing room and slip into the shower. Big Brother created super humans, not sweet talkers, nor smartasses, nor social butterflies. We were created for menial jobs. Building explosives. Creating square buildings. Making clothes. Being the entertainment for Big Brother's associates.
I reach for the shampoo to wash out the chlorine in my hair and watch the soap bubbles swirl down the drain.
Disappearing never seemed so easy.