The slapping of my beat up, stolen shoes against the concrete seems deafening in my ears, almost as loud as you’d imagine a stampede of elephants to be. The sound of flappy, old sneakers is a big difference from the sound of brand-new high tops, I should know. Guess you could say I've seen the best of both worlds.
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Though I'm running in a fast pace, it's nowhere near as fast or rapid as my racing heartbeat as I run away from the people, more like monsters, behind me. Four people who claim to be doctors push their legs as hard as they can go. Little do they know, they are fighting a losing battle, chasing a determined girl. The reason I say “claim to be” is because no M.D. offers that level of crazy, OR creepy.
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Still running, I leave behind the so called exam room. That was no exam room. That didn’t even resemble an exam room. Exam rooms shouldn't show more blood on the floor than it shows pristine, sterile flooring. The flooring smeared with blood, almost as if it’s acting as a tile polish. The aroma of sanitizer is strong, but is not enough to overpower the smells. Not to mention the things that caught my eyes, the posters and mysterious stains. I’m not one to overly judge sights, but exam rooms shouldn't have doctors that look more like a mad scientists than friendly fellow humans. Doctors with perverted glances or even murderous stares. That was no exam room. That didn’t even resemble an exam room.
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The “doctor” who was supposed to be examining me for strep throat started by asking if anyone would miss me if I was gone, to which the answer was no, but he didn’t need to know that. Then he asked if any of my relatives are sector leaders, which is also a no. This, I couldn’t lie to him about, and based on the “oh-so excellent” treatment I’ve received thus far, he already knows. Finally, he asked me if I'd ever been a subject and any other experiments like this, and inside my head, I’m thinking two things. A) experiments?, and B) how in the WORLD would I know? In my head, these questions didn't seem right, but this is the first time I've been in for strep, and I haven’t been to the hospital since I was around 5. Instead of receiving a no, he received the sprinting Tanya whizzing past him. Because of my short and malnourished body, people seem to think that with one step I’ll crumble. That is where they're wrong. So so very wrong.
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Back when I was little, my older brother loved to play with me, whatever the game may be, but his most favorite was to run with me. I can still taste the fresh air, and feel the wind on my face. Those were the times. Only then, I ran for fun, to get away. Now, I’m getting away, but this time from danger.
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"Come back here now," a commanding voice sounds out. I turn my head to look back and see my “doctor”. His beady eyes and intimidating stare remind me of something out of a horror movie. His run seems labored and he tries to catch up with me with one hand over his mini him (a girl had to get out somehow). After 10 steps or so, he either decides I’m not worth it, or the pain becomes unbearable. Either way, now only three doctors follow me, and even their drives are dwindling.
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Turning to face the door, I see that I will be out of this horror house in 10 feet. Five. I'm out. A sigh of relief is released from my mouth. Slipping around the corner, I take the time to catch my breath, and calm my racing heart. Listening to my surroundings I hear two loud voices.
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“Come out Girly, we don’t bite. Much,” pervert. If I wasn’t hiding for my life, that guy would receive a good beating, from me, everywhere. In the area I live in, you come across too many guys like him. I might have to kick the next guy like him’s butt twice as hard.
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“Tom, don’t scare the girl away, you go inside. I’ll find her, and if she gets away, it’s not like the doctor is short of willing candidates” the calm voice of a second guy says right as two neon green sneakers appear in my view.
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Willing? Try tricked. I walked into that hospital in the mindset that I would come back with some sort of antibiotic to aid my scratchy throat. Instead, some weird guy came in and asked me countless questions about everything but my throat. It’s all my fault though, I should have known something was off when the doctor eagerly greeted me outside, more like pulled me inside despite the fact that I placed no phone calls or send any texts.
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“Come on out, he’s gone now,” the owner of the sneakers calls out to me interrupting my scolding session with myself regarding my stupidity and naivety. Once again, I can't believe I so stupidly went along with something so obviously wrong.
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I reply to his request with a snort, “why in the world would I trust you?” I question in disbelief as I keep my voice quiet so that if Tom isn't gone, he can’t hear me.
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“Well Tanya, I Colton, am literally your only hope, and if I wanted to kill you, I already would have,” Colton delivers a reasonable point. Still apprehensive, I crawl out, meanwhile, he starts talking again. “I’m sorry about my friend, he can be a bit of a handful,” I halt, he is friends with that guy? This knowledge does nothing to add to the level of trust I have for him, which may I add is very low. Still hesitant and suspicious, more so in fact, I let Colton help me up, and my eyes take in the guy with the neon sneakers.
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If Colton didn’t work here in this horribly atrocious place, I’d be able to admire his undeniable handsomeness, I may have even acted on it. His head is covered by dark brown straight hair that would freely hang without the styling gel that holds up the front of his hair, seeing as the sides are short. Traveling down, I find that his piercing dark blue eyes are staring directly at me in irritation, which is especially prominent when paired with his sharp and tickling jaw.
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“Are you done staring? You’re not too bad yourself,” he boredly comments as if he is used to people checking him out, and responding politely. In response to his compliment, I laugh. In my head, I think, yeah right, not too bad. My face is a normal one with once bright green eyes, now dull. Paired with lips that are naturally pigmented pink. In translation, I am a boring Barbara, or I guess Tanya.
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“Can we go now?” I say worriedly, suddenly realizing that we are still out in the open and this thought causes me to start swiveling my head, looking out for any of the other “doctors”. Especially the one that left me jittery, and I’m never jittery. I don’t allow myself to be jittery. I will also not allow myself to forget his face, it is branded in my mind. Like a bad tattoo to skin.
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“What are we looking at?” Colton asks suddenly beside me probably wondering why I am looking at everything so determinedly. I must have been really out of it to not have noticed his movement. Obviously not noticing my confused stare, Colton’s curious eyes meet my worried ones.
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“Nothing,” is what I think comes out of my mouth, but based on his very confused face, I can tell that that is not what I said. It probably came out as a whole bunch of gibberish which is a language I speak very fluently.
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“Never mind,” my companion rushes out as his playful face turns stony, after which, he runs off too quickly for me to follow. Wait, if he can run that fast, he could have easily caught me way before I left the building. I mean, I am fast, but he is FAST.
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Speaking of he, did he leave me? Maybe he did and now, I’m stranded here until he goes and gets Tom. His best buddy, the pervert, coming to finish off the plan. Maybe this was his plan all along. All along, he wanted to lure me. That’s right, lure me into a false sense of security. Calm me down. The calmer girls are the easiest to hurt and the easiest to make trust you. Get me to kind of trust him. He-he-he just wanted to trick me. That little-
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“Honk, honk,” an increasingly familiar voice calls out from his dark blue pickup truck. Sigh. Okay. Maybe he isn’t such a bad guy. Fast, but maybe not quite so bad.
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“Are you crying?” he asks genuinely worried, all of the laughter melting from his face. I didn’t realize I was crying until now, when a teardrop falls into my hand, the obvious question he asked me, may have also hinted at it.
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“I’m not crying,” I grit out. He seems to get that I want to ignore my tears, and so he moves on to the next topic.
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“Ok? Are you getting the car or not?” it may be hard to see in my face, but inside, I am VERY hesitant. I mean, what sign has he given me that stepping into that truck isnt just another way of stepping into doom? Well, other than him sending Tom away, and not hurting me so far. What can I say, apprehension runs in my blood, it's a little something that my brother and I have in common. Against what my mind tells me, I say this.
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“Yeah take me home.” He might not notice how my voice becomes less sure, and how I hesitate on that simple word. One word that to many is easy, accustomed. That ONE word. Home.
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<<<<<<<<<<<(Time Skip)>>>>>>>>>>>>
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“Is this the right place?” I watch his face as Colton asks the question so that I can determine my answer, to help me gage if the question is genuine, or mocking. Him asking this question isn’t surprising. If someone took me to the middle of an abandoned road and told me it was their home, well, then I’d be in the same situation as Colton.
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“Yeah, thank you for the ride,” I thank as I walk out of his car. Finally, back home again. Joyfully, I jog across the rugged road, if you can even call it that still. When I reach the right side of the road, I feel around and locate my entrance hatch. At that moment, I look back and see Colton staring right back at me. I raise a hand in farewell. He raises one back, though his seems more hesitant.
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I start the dangerous and long climb down the rickety ladder that acts like stairs in my “house”, but I like to think of it as an elevator, a very dangerous and rotted elevator. My toes reach the familiar dirt ground, and I am officially at home. I let out a sigh of relief, home not-so-sweet home.
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Looking around, I see my life for the last two years. Rough. The walls aren’t painted, instead they stand uneven in a way that only dirt tunnels can. The solid walls crumbling slightly as movement is felt overhead. The floor is a mixture of dirt and mismatched stolen rugs. The organization down here is a neat freak’s nightmare. In the corner of my very small room is a singular pillow that serves as my bed. On the other side of the room, is my abundant food stack. Just kidding, my abundant food stack consists of a loaf of bread, some water, and some other things.
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“Hey Tanya, I’m just gonna head ou-“ the word “out” hangs on his tongue like a bad taste as he looks around my house. This is the reason I don’t invite people over, well that and the fact that I don’t have anyone to invite over. I’m guessing my inventory startles newcomers, but how should I know, Colton’s the first one. “Tanya who lives here?”
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“I do?” I answer questioningly, wondering why he’s asking questions with obvious answers. His face seems to convey confused and a little bit ashamed. He’s probably thinking back to his luxurious home. After all, he is from Sector Fun as I call it. I'm surprised his face doesn't show disgust though, interesting.
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“What do you mean you do?” yet another stupid question spills from his mouth almost as if he can't stop it.
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“I mean what I said, I live here, and I have for two years,” I state proudly with my head held high. It may not be much, but it’s mine, and I don’t like people insulting my things.
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“Not anymore,” he states in a voice that tells instead of asks. This statement is said like he didn’t just tell me that he was getting rid of my home. His stature has also changed, now in a tall and affirming position instead of the semi slouched and unsure he was wearing before. His eyes also don’t scan like they did when he was taking in the minimalistic features of my home.
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“And who’s gonna make me leave?” I question staring right back at him. When I say it, my voice is confident, but looking at him now, the air of his confidence seems to be diminishing my levels of it. I kinda want to look behind me and make sure no one is there.
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“No one is gonna make you leave, I believe that you’ll do it on your own, with only a little bit of help perhaps,” he hints at mysteriously before a mischievous smirk appears on his face. Next, he nonchalantly punches one of my walls, making dust puff out from the spider webbing cracks that he just created.
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“Stop. What are you doing, this isn’t a joke, this is my home” I say suddenly serious, worried that he’ll actually destroy my home. I didn't think he had it in him, I though he was just playing around.
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“Stop what?” he feigns innocence as he punches yet another wall. He does it as if he doesn’t understand his destructive actions. Only this time when he punches the wall, it's almost like I can feel the wall shaking, and i feel like I'm witnessing a car crash, cringing in pity, but useless to stop what is coming.
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“Colton I’m not playing around, cut it out,” my small worry turning into full blown panic.
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“Or, what?” Colton asks about to knock over yet another item. Like he's TRYING to provoke me.
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“TANYA, YOU BETTER HAVE THE MONEY RIGHT NOW,” oh no. I forgot about Nick.
ns 15.158.61.37da2 
