The Escape Series Collection

Chapter 12

I lay on my side and stared up at the camera in the corner of the room. Its watchful red eye focused on B2 as she made her bed. It would be several more minutes before it turned its attention to me. B2 headed to the bathroom and continued her morning routine.

As every second passed, I found it increasingly difficult to keep up the façade of a robotic state. I"d figured out the surveillance equipment focused on us at different times. When B2 rose from bed a half hour before me, it spent its time watching her and ignored me like I wasn"t even in the room. I grew brave enough to even wave at it, but it never wandered away from B2 as she stood by her bed and made it. During those several minutes, the time was mine. I could do whatever I wanted in my corner of the room, and the intrusive equipment would leave me alone. I learned to steal several moments during the day, moments I would use for myself.

I stood in the corner of the room underneath the ever-watchful eye. For all it knew, I was piling my laundry into the chute. I pressed my back into the painted, concrete wall and let myself slide down to the floor. By the time I reached the white ceramic, my dress had risen and exposed my lower back. I did nothing to fix it; the coolness of the wall was pleasant on my skin.

B2 was over by my – now our – dresser, and she removed some clothing and a set of fresh bedding. It was a task the camera found more entertaining than trying to see my actions.

I pulled the folded piece of paper from the front of my dress. My hands smoothed it out on the hard floor. I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out a shortened pencil.

I"d discovered or remembered I enjoyed drawing. It was as natural for me to draw as it was to breathe. Every day I worked on my illustration for a few minutes. It was a face I couldn"t get out of my mind, though I had no recollection of whose it was. My memory shared small fragments of the image in my dreams, a collage of blurred features that made no sense. I sorted through the pieces of information in my head and used those bits that were the sharpest.

My most recent dream had given me another clue. The brief flash of the face came to me again behind closed lids. My eyelids fluttered back open to the faint pencilled outline of an oval shape. Hair and indiscernible features stared up at me from the wrinkled sheet of lined paper. The details were rough. There was no telling if the face was male or female, young or old, but I was determined to make that change.

I gripped the pencil and began working on the eyes. They were the only thing that had stood out from my dream. I couldn"t remember the exact colour, only that they were light. Thick, long lashes framed them, and they twinkled with happiness. I made sure to capture the emotion in my sketch.

The whirring of the video equipment interrupted me. It had turned toward the wall as far as it could. I jumped to my feet, folded my drawing, and tucked it back inside the front of my dress.

I trudged back to the dresser for clean bedding. As I made my bed, I removed the drawing and tucked it under the fitted sheet. The hair rose on the back of my neck as though a pair of eyes glared at me. I wanted to turn around and glare back at the camera. My pulse quickened, and my face warmed at the thought. I let out my breath. “No, I won"t,” I whispered to the wall in front of me.

The bathroom had also become a place where I could do what I wanted. I"d learned that I could go a day without a shower and use the time for drawing instead. I looked forward to those days. My twelve minutes of bathroom prep time dropped to about two, and I had a full ten minutes at my leisure.

It wasn"t long before more detail filled in my sketch, and the face of a young boy emerged on the wrinkled paper. The creases had distorted the image somewhat, despite my careful folding. Unfortunately, it wasn"t enough to protect the drawing. It was only about a week and a half old, but the wear made it look much older than that.

I studied the smeared pencilled features, the full cheeks and laughing eyes, yet he remained anonymous. I shut mine and focused on the blackness behind my lids as I tried to get a clearer image in my mind. Who are you?

Who are you?The alarm sounded, and I was forced to fold the drawing up once gain and tuck it between my breasts. I pulled on my paper robe. With B2 sharing the room, J now arrived after my morning shower time instead of before.

A quick look in the mirror showed I did not look as though I"d had a hot shower. I dragged a wet brush through my hair and pinched my cheeks until they flushed red. I scrubbed my teeth with a wet finger and swished water I"d drank from the tap, around my mouth. I pulled the robe tighter around my body and exited the room just in time.

B2 sat at the table, and I joined her, the image of the boy"s face still in my head.

When J entered the room, I couldn"t wait to show him the picture. My heart thumped, and I was sure it rustled both the paper robe and the drawing.

“I have something to show you,” I whispered in a somewhat shaky voice as J prepared my arm.

“Hmm.” His eyebrows rose, but he didn"t look at me.

My right arm rested on the table in front of me like it always did. All I needed to do was reach between the folds of my paper attire and pull the drawing out from underneath. But, I was afraid any movement I made would catch the attention of whoever watched.

“It"s under my robe.”

J pulled the protective red cap from the needle. It slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor with a light tap. He placed the syringe back on his cart. “Oops!” he said, as he moved behind me. “You can take it out now.”

I peeled back the fold of my robe and eased out the paper. It was difficult, but I managed to unfold it with one hand. All the while J positioned himself between me and the camera.

“Okay?” he said.

“Yes.”

J returned to the cart and placed the red cap on the tray. He picked up the syringe. I narrowed my eyes as I saw the second needle.

“Do you know who this is? And why another needle?” I smoothed the paper against my chest the best I could.

J glanced at the drawing as he moved closer to inject me. “No.” He was abrupt and went back to work. “And the second needle is another booster.” He picked it up and pricked my arm.

I rubbed the creases in my brow as my shoulders slumped a little. The hope I had disappeared when J paid little attention to my drawing. I stared down at the table in front of me and studied its surface. For the first time, I saw tiny flecks of grey dotting the white table. From the top of my vision, I could see B2"s hands as they rested in front of her. A small flicker of movement caused me to raise my eyes a little. I stared at B2"s hands and once again her finger moved. My eyes scanned up her arms before they rested on her face.

B2"s eyes focused on the drawing that I still had pressed to my chest. Her expression was no longer blank; her eyes registered recognition.