The Contract

- Florida, 8 years ago -

When she woke up, she felt cold and dizzy, completely befuddled with where she was until fragments of the previous days returned to her and made her remember everything with clarity. She couldn’t believe she was here. How could she have been caught? The air around her was gelid, holding the scent of fume and putridity that made it difficult to inhale any kind of oxygen without seeming like her lungs were being set on fire and the bed in which she laid felt humid, the wetness soaking through the orange fabric of her prison suit and sticking to her skin in a way that would no doubt contribute to an incoming pneumonia. It was dark inside, the rays of the pouring sun descending down the rusty bars of a tiny window, but a shallow artificial light shook softly from its place falling down the ceiling as if its decaying shadows were mocking her for being there, for being caught for a crime she had committed and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret.

She coughed heavily, her body shaking hard against the hard mattress. She was getting sick already and it didn’t help her craving for some kind of drug was becoming stronger and she felt like it was eating away at her body, growing with each passing millisecond. She racked her hands up her arms, fingers scratching softly at the skin in order to distract herself from the thoughts in her head. But worse than the cravings, perhaps, was knowing that she was here, having finally been caught, and so she stopped scratching, preferring the fight of the needs than to dwell on the future that was now looming ahead.

If she was honest, it felt like it had been years since she was put there, not the nine days, three hours and how many minutes that separated her from her dirtiest past. She felt the time passing in slow motion, the minutes ticking away so painfully slowly the need to disappear was now the size of her closet monsters. And those were bigger than any person could ever imagine. It had been a week since she last ate – because, honestly, she couldn’t get anything past her throat even if she tried, - and three days since the last drop of water washed over her system and only once in her life had she felt as desperate as she was this time.

She hadn’t cried once since she got there - that wasn’t like her anyway -, but despite not having a flushed face marred in tears she knew she still looked like shit. They let her only bath once, in a decrepit shower room with other female convicts about two days ago, but because she was still yet to be a convict herself they kept her from the others ever since. Now, she was just waiting for them to say something, anything, so she could be judged and, if luck arouse, finally go home.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the large, hollow complex, surprising her and making her push her body off the bed with difficulty to look towards the sound. The heavy door of her prison cell opened widely and a uniformed man stepped inside. He looked stoic and quite intimidating, holding the door and signalizing with a nod of his head for her to follow, the gun stuck on his belt making her hesitate for a second before she did what she was asked for.

The guard made her walk before him, his hand on her back as he led her through precariously lit corridors and, despite what she thought, far from the upper area of the facility where she had been interrogated the first time she got there. They reached a set of white doors soon enough and when the guard opened them she could see a brightly lit room, a stark contrast from the cavern-like entryway where she still stood.

A man in a white lab coat perceived them by the door and approached them.

“You, finally,” he said. Beads of sweat were easily distinguishable on his forehead. “Quick. Come in.”

A strong, gloved hand grabbed her wrist as another man dressed in white moved forward and pulled her into the room. Her eyes widened as she took everything in. It was a large space, about six times wider than the cell she had been put in. There were at least half a dozen of people scattered around, looking quite busy as they worked through lab material that she had only seen in the rare good movies that were premiered on her town’s local cinema.

She was pushed through work tables onto the middle of the room, her butt meeting the hard surface of a plastic chair when she was forced down. Her eyes widened as she was quickly surrounded by others and they grabbed her arms and stomach, holding her down to the chair as the man who had first spoken rolled her sleeve up.

“What’s going on?” she asked quickly. Her voice sounded rough from the lack of water and it was noticeable right now she had little to no strength to her.

“Calm down.” Her widened eyes fell on the only women on the room, the one who had spoken. She was approaching her slowly with what looked like a needle in her hand. “It’s just normal procedure.”

“Normal procedure?!” She tried to move her arm away from the men, fear cursing adrenaline through her body. What was going on? “Normal procedure for what?!”

“You’ll see.”

She gasped when she felt the needle prick the skin of her upper arm, her face stuck in an expression of utter surprise while they pressed the piston and the amber liquid rushed inside. She was scared, but didn’t dare move. The total of nameless liquid was already inside her system, anyway, if there was a chance she would be surviving this, then she didn’t want to risk breaking the needle while it still wasn’t out.

“What’s going on?” Once the women took off the needle, the men around her moved away and back to their places by the lab instruments, seeming to be organizing and putting everything in place at a fast speed. No one cared to answer the question, which both confused and infuriated her furthermore. “What did you give me and where the hell is my attorney?!”

What was even going on? They had a deal, hadn’t they? She was supposed to go to court today, stand in front of an audience and claim she was innocent before the accusations presented to the tribunal. She was supposed to be judged as a minor and sent to a reforming school until she was eighteen. She was supposed to be let out for good behavior and never actually hit jail.

Now, she wasn’t only far from receiving her freedom, but she was also quite certain today she could die.

Her exhales came out in short spurts as she looked around the faces in the room. They were all normal looking, all appearing to be middle aged and dressed in white coats, which made her believe they must have been doctors of some sort. They wore expressionless masks, eyes cold and lips closed in thin, unbreakable lines, as they moved from their positions on the work tables to stand against a wall forming an extremely organized line.

She felt like she could question them again, ask them why they were doing this to her – she had never heard of someone dealing with something like this in jail -, but, before she could even breathe out the words, the steel door sealing the room was opened once again and a tall, strong-looking man passed through. The creases on his forehead were deep and the white hairs coloring great part of his scalp made her believe he couldn’t have been younger than the others that had been crowding the room minutes before. The man was clad in a black suit, a small leather suitcase swinging from his hand as he made his was towards the empty table that, she noticed, stood on the far side of the room.

The chair she had been forced onto was pushed forward until she could feel the hard surface of the table gracing her stomach. The man smiled at her as he approached the table on the other side and sat on another plastic chair, his hands fumbling through his suitcase before locking themselves together as he rested his elbows on the shiny surface before him.

He stared at her for some long moments, seeming to be scrutinizing her like a hawk while the same, almost sinister smile remained still on his slightly aged face. He titled his head to the side, the lights of the room falling down his features so harshly the dark circles under his eyes made his grey orbs seem quite intimidating. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, something the girl couldn’t bring herself to understand as she fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare.

“Groves!” She was startled as the man’s voice boomed through the thick air of the room, raspy and powerful with what seemed like a western accent. His eyes remained glued on her figure, but she was certain he couldn’t be talking to her. “Please enlighten me.”

Her eyes flicked around the room at the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way. The guard that had brought her there and had witnessed everything from the corner of the room stood now beside the large table; his hands were locked behind his back while his eyes glued themselves on the white wall opposite his body, preventing any kind of eye contact from being made.

“Alexandra Casley, 16, Florida. Held under the charges of drug traffic and qualified murder of the 32 years old Florida’s resident, Derek Emerson.” The man’s monotone voice ripped through the air and she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up to attention.

The man in the black suit smiled widely as he observed the girl before him, reclining on his chair nonchalantly while locking his hands together on the back of his head, his flexed arms showing the hard muscles through the white button up shirt.

“So, Alexandra-“

The girl’s lip lifted up in a faint snarl. She hated this man already; she didn’t need him saying her awful full name. “Alex.”

The man nodded shortly, smiling at her condescendingly as if he was talking to a small child, which made her feel small under his judgmental stare. Not that in her sixteen years of life she could be considered anything other than a child. And it didn’t even matter that in those few years she had lived things others could never even begin to understand.

Her gaze kept glued on the man as the guard that stood still close to them handed him the needle they had pushed through her skin, the liquid remains still moving on the inside. The girl eyed the needle carefully. She still had no idea what it was that she had now cursing through her body, which only worsened the situation at hand.

“Now, Alex, I understand you have some questions. Am I right?” Alex titled her head at the question, receiving quite amused laughter from the dark-clothed man as he laid the needle on the middle of the table, observing her curiously. “I promise you I will answer all of your questions, but first you need to answer one of my own.”

The man kept smiling at her, pausing his speech as if waiting for her approval, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew he would ask her what he needed to know whether she wanted him to or not. It was only a matter of manners and time.

When Alex didn’t acknowledge the man’s words a large smirk attached itself to his lips, making him seem younger than he obviously was. “Did you Kill Derek Emerson?”

The girl’s eyes pierced through his in a harsh glare, her lips gracing the roots of her teeth as a low snarl made its way up her throat. “Why would I answer you?! Who the hell are you?!”

“You can call me Dr. Cassidy.” His smile didn’t even falter. “Now, did you kill Derek Emerson? Yes or no?”

A sarcastic laugh ripped through the air as the girl leaned forward, her lips forming a smirk of her own. “Fuck. You,” She hissed lowly, before spiting on the man’s face, her saliva immediately running down the man’s previously immaculate skin.

She watched the man lean back on his chair, taking a deep intake of air while cleaning the saliva away with a shiny, white piece of tissue that had been nicely stacked on the pocket of his suit jacket. He smiled a fake smile, his eyes holding a new ruthless anger he was trying hard to keep at bay, and grabbed the needle that had been resting on the table, letting it swing between his fingers.

“Do you know what they pushed inside your body with this little thing?” The girl merely stared. “We call it Truth Serum. It’s a psychoactive medication used to obtain information when people are… let’s say, reticent to give us an answer.”

“And you think that thing will make me answer?” The girl scoffed.

“It has before,” The man said. “More times than you can expect. Now, Alex, did you kill him? Yes or no? Did you?”

Why did it feel like she couldn’t lie? She had the answer right on the tip of her tongue before the thought of being silent even crossed her mind. It was like the medication was actually forcing her to speak the truth; but how could it be?

“Yes.”

She put her hand over her mouth in shock as soon as she said the words. The man clapped happily, jumping on his seat like a child and she decide then it hadn’t been the medication’s fault. She had fallen under his mind games and now there was no turning back.

As he calmed down, the man’s hands locked themselves together once again and he pushed himself back against his chair, satisfied with the now mute girl before him.

“Excellent!” He exclaimed with a mischievous grin. “Now that we have that behind our backs I guess I can start explaining you why you are here, yes?”

Alex didn’t answer.

“Great! You see Alex, what you did was a very, let’s say, not righteous crime. If you went to court now, even as a minor, you’d catch at least 15 years of jail. You understand that, right?” The man seemed complacent with his words, as though proud of being able to already dictate her future. But the teenager didn’t acknowledge his presence yet again, her brain only now realizing that she could have never been let out as easily as she thought.

The man with the black suit - Dr. Cassidy - seemed to read her mind and an amused laugh filled the quiet air of the cold room. He leaned forward once again and the girl subconsciously wondered if he had anxiety issues or something else that kept him moving like a hyperactive child.

“What you did was extremely wrong and in no way acceptable. Now, I do believe everyone deserves a second chance and that’s exactly why you, my dear Alexandra, are here.”

She looked at him stupidly, the words ever so slowly reaching her brain. “Second chance?”

“Well, yes Alex. A second chance.” The man smiled brightly, eyes seeming quite passionate about their current conversation.

“Wha-“ She swallowed hard the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. “What’s that supposed to mean? Who the hell are you?!”

“We like to see ourselves as a school.” The man said, getting up from his seat and starting to pace the clean marble resting underneath their feet. “We’re afraid sending kids like yourself to root in jail is a tremendous waste of young talent. Now, Alex, listen to me.” He begged excitedly as he sat down once again, reclining impossibly closer to the girl’s body. ”The world is full of bad people and, dare I say, the justice isn’t always… just, if you must. This world is full of criminals that sometimes don’t get punished like they should be. Alex, I need you to understand that what we do here is implant justice when justice isn’t made. We send kids like you, kids that have been misled, right to the correct path.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” The girl asked, confused beyond belief. In all honesty, she hadn’t understood half the things the man had said.

“What we do is train young people like yourself to do the right thing. To implant justice.” The man smiled yet again, looking awfully excited. He leaned back on his chair, thankfully deciding to give the girl some breathing space before continuing. “Alex, I need to know if you accept the path we’re giving you. I beg you to accept this second chance. I’m afraid if you don’t I’m not going to be able to help you.”

Alex shook her head softly, the thoughts jumbling together in her mind and making her feel more tired than before. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to think. Everything was so incredibly crazy and she felt as though this was just a dream. Could this possibly be true? Were second chances even real? And if they were… how could she trust this man? How could she know he wasn’t deceiving her? How could she know that, if she said yes, she would still… live?

But she didn’t want to go to jail; she didn’t want to spend her whole life locked down when she was still so young and with yet so much to live. Perhaps, saying yes was exactly what she needed, even if they would kill her in the end. Being locked down for her whole life would be worse than being dead, after all. It would never feel like living.

“If I say yes,” She asked slowly, carefully. Her eyes were locked with the man’s as if daring him to tell her only the truth. “What do you expect me to do?”

“What you’ve been doing all along, of course.” The man smirked, reclining further on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, looking as though he knew more obscure things than she would ever know. “Kill.”