Hello Burk
“Stupid- freaking- wall.” Mia kicked at the plain gray wall in front of her. The impact served no purpose but to jar her foot.
As each blow landed, she leaned her weight into it.
Finally, with a resounding thump, the wall won.
She lay on her side, shivering.
Her face was bruised; so was her foot.
“Hell fire. This is the lamest thing ever.”
Her plain, mouse-brown hair was unkempt. She’d given up a while back on trying to braid it without help; why bother?
It must be four days they’d kept her here. She’d scratched a tally on the wall using a blunt kitchen knife. Of course her captors wouldn’t give her a sharp blade; oh no!
Resigned, she slumped onto the floor. Just in case she was being monitored she refrained from unsightly sobbing.
“I’m never gonna get out of here.” It was more of a thought than a spoken comment. Mia buried her head in her hands. A long, fruitless life stretched before her.
“Why are you crying?”
She jumped up, hand going to the knife. Her questioner didn't look dangerous: shoulder-length hair of indeterminate color; an off-white coat messily draped over his back. “Why are you crying?” he repeated.
“C-’cause I’m ugly, alone and d-don’t want to t-talk about it,” she hiccuped. “Now g-go away.”
He didn't seem put out by her manner. Indeed, he stooped and offered her a handkerchief. “Blow.”
Is he some kind of test from Them? It’s just a ‘kerchief, but better go carefully. With a casual air, she ran the material over her forearm. Nothing happened; it merely released a smell like wildflowers.
The man studied her. She quickly looked away.
He’d be seeing a wreck: badly-combed hair; muddy gray eyes with a crooked nose between them; a chest that was far from developed. Heck, she mused, maybe she'd never get her growth up there at all.
“You poor, poor girl.” Now he tried to turn her face towards him. She reacted instantly: chomp went her teeth.
The man looked startled, but not offended. He pulled his hand away and smiled ruefully.
“All right, all right. I’m Dr. David Burk, if you wanted to know.”
A doctor? Maybe They sent him to check on me. Her dislike ratcheted up a level; she put her face to the wall. Talk to the back.
“Mia.”
She refused to let him see her surprise.
“Go to hell,” she snarled. “And take your stupid smile.”
He said three words she would never have expected: “A way out.”
No, he was baiting her. She may not be developed physically, but maybe Dr. What’s-his-name wasn't choosy.
“I can get you out of her, Mia. Trust me.”
Her temper flared. “Yeah, I’m so sure! First you ‘examine’ me to find out what’s wrong, then you rape me, and last you throw me out on the curb! Good-bye!”
Hurt, he drew back a little.
“Go on. Get.”
“All right, I will. But think about it. I have no reason to lie to you. In fact, I have a few good reasons to spring you from this place and send you back to your parents.”
Despite herself, her interest was piqued. “But... But I don’t know who my parents are.”
The doctor sighed. “Well. I can help with that as well. Perhaps you’ve been drugged to suppress your memory, as well as your growth.”
Now there was an idea. Sure, she couldn’t trust a word he said. Still... The kerchief hadn’t poisoned her. She felt no different, so it was unlikely that he had tried to drug her. Why not?
She bit her lip. What to do...? Surely getting out was better than staying here.
“Dr. Burk! Your time with our guest is over.” A harsh feminine voice cut into her thoughts.
With a last, long-suffering smile at her, he turned to leave her cell. “Think about it, honey.”
Huh. Who is he calling “honey”? I smell more like urine. Oh God, that was an unpleasant thought; her bladder twinged.
“Yo, Warden! I have to go, see?” It was worth a try.
The warden, who was several inches taller than Mia, compressed her lips. “I would say you also need a change of clothing and a lesson in politeness. Very well.”
They frog-marched down a gray corridor; Mia kept her eyes front and center.
Naturally, the ladies’ room was just as bare. Her guard looked away as she did her business; it wasn't like she’d try to run anyway.
From somewhere the warden produced a bar of soap and a relatively clean shirt. The thing smelt of laundry detergent and someone else’s secrets.
Whoever else owned this thing will bet glad it fits me. With a mental shrug she put it on; no need for modesty since she had nothing to show.
She wished, suddenly, that she were anywhere but here. What good was being locked up? Why give her the talents she had and refuse to let her use them? She was like a bird with her wings clipped.
Wherever home is, I want to go there. I want my mom and dad to say “Hey, we missed you!” Her eyes threatened to tear up; at least their surgeons hadn't denied her that.
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