Chapter Two: 5:34 AM 07/13/2004 {Summer of 2004}
I took in a couple big huffs of air as I ran as fast as I could down through the narrow openings between the storage containers.
They wouldn't catch me; I was sure of it. I knew these containers like the back of my hand, and I was small enough to fit through the gaps between some of them.
But I had to be faster. Someone told CPS about us. I grit my teeth as I tried to run some more, but my legs were lead at this point.
I listened as carefully as I could, and tried to make out any sounds of our signal. Well, one of them. All I could hear were the sirens and sounds of feet slamming on concrete.
No signal meant no change in the situation.
I had stopped to listen, but I forced myself to start running. My heart felt like it was going to explode, but I pushed myself so take in as many breathfuls of air as I could, before I ran. Right now, I was getting closer to the bay, as I zigzag-ed through the maze of empty containers, some of which we'd called our home.
I couldn't understand how they found us. We had all been as careful as possible to not get caught. I had kept a read on everyone, well, except for Patty.
She was there from the beginning though, so I knew she'd never do anything like rat us out to CPS.
She knew how much better it was with us, and how horrific some of the foster homes could be. Some of us had been killed through it, or trafficked, so honestly, death was one of the preferable ways to go, in comparison.
I was getting even closer to the bay, and I felt my feet ache, as they rubbed raw against the rough, cheap fabric of my shoes, and my soles felt almost every stone on the floor, given how worn they were. I couldn't keep this up.
But just until the Bay, I repeated to myself. Just until the bay.
I ignored my burning legs, and lungs, the stinging sweat that started to get into my eyes, and finally made it through the east clump of containers, and into the bay.
I heard Patty's signature, and I huffed out a call.
"P-patty! We need to send signal five, and get the others to the exits!"
I bent over, for a second, catching my breath, as I let myself rest for a second. I let myself relax. With Patty here, we would be alright. She was one of the smartest people I knew, so I didn't doubt she could come up with an idea to help us escape.
I opened my eyes, and I heard footsteps coming from my right side.
I got up, groaning, but glad that I had told Patty about an escape route that we could use, just us, if things went horribly.
I turned right, and froze.
"Patty?"
Patty stood in front of the bay, surrounded by men with in black uniforms, and shiny helmets. The PRT?
"What? I don't..." I trailed off. My mind was blank. What was happening?
It couldn't connect the image in front of me with what reality. This couldn't be happening.
"Let her go!" I shouted at the men, looking for a way to release Patty- she wasn't being held, so I had to guess they had guns.
There weren't many options.
I tried to signal to her, yet-
She didn't even look at me.
"There's about two triggers in our group, maybe more." She stated calmly.
No- no, no, no no nonononononononononononono-
She was being controlled. Or some sort of Master power. There weren't any other possibilities. She had to be under some sort of influence. Or no!- that...thing had to be an impostor.
They must've kidnapped her, and infiltrated our group in order to rat us out to the PRT and CPS.
"Shut up!" I shouted, blinded my anger. It made my blood boil. This impostor had been in our group for God knew how long, and the real Patty must've been in a cell somewhere, miserable.
I tried to whistle in short bursts, the absolute last, last, stone-bottom signal for the rest to scatter.
But just as I tried, Patty's impostor finally looked at me, before nodding to one of them.
One of the men, a mover, I think, slammed their fist into my face, sending me straight to the floor.
The air was forced out my lungs as I hit the floor, head slamming onto the wet, damp concrete of the Dock, leaving me wheezing, as I tried to gasp in air.
All I knew for those few seconds was just... pain.
I groaned, feeling a warm throbbing at my eyes, and lip, and a warm liquid running down my chin. Spit or blood?
'What was the difference?', I wondered as I felt something start to crack in my mind.
I giggled at my own joke, the feeling of reality slipping from my fingers.
Someone growled, and I felt a pressure on my neck, followed by someone screaming.
I opened one eye to the sight of Patty's impostor pleading with the unresponsive shiny mask.
The vague sounds of "-on't hurt him!" and "you promise-" managed to make it over the thrumming of my heart.
I felt my mind begin to settle into the almost comforting sense of darkness.
But then something slammed into my face, and I was left seeing spots, but thoroughly aware.
"Fuck." I spit out, looking up at the masked, indomitable figure.
I felt something familiar bubble up in the back of my head. Something subtle, but uncomfortably familiar; Hate.
I felt my strength leave me slowly, but with what little else I had, I fixed my face in a scowl, even with one eye swollen shut.
I tried to spit at it, but all that I managed to do was gurgle spit almost certainly tinted pink with blood.
But the next words for the impostor shocked me to the core.
"Start signal 013."
Only one person knew the other half by heart. It was one of the first signals we came up with that needed two people to sound out. It signaled everyone to gather at one safe spot after one had been compromised.
It was truly her. Just looking at her made me sick.
I let my head rest on the wet concrete of the Docks, and I sighed, a world of weight beginning to settle on my shoulders.
"No." I mumbled. I knew they'd hurt me. But I couldn't give them up. They were the only thing I had left.
The cracked concrete crunched as Patty walked closer to me, and stood over me.
"Look, Lincoln. Please. Please, do this. I don't want them to hurt you. They'll rip it out of you if they have to." Patty caringly whispered, reaching down, caressing my face.
I would've shuddered, if I wasn't on the edge of passing out.
Instead, I gathered every small bit of strength I had, and spit whatever bloody mess I could onto her face.
Green eyes that I had once trusted with my life looked down on me, looking like I had killed one of the strays she loved to keep so much.
I forced myself to rip my eyes away from her begging eyes.
"Send in the Master." I heard someone say into the static of a walkie-talkie.
Wait. No. My blood froze.
She couldn't be doing this.
I found it within myself to start scrabbling, trying to drag myself away from there, flee.
They were going to tear the signal from my mind. Everyone would go back. Back there. No. NO!
"Please! Don't!" I managed to get out, begging.
I had never once begged in my life, not even when I had been beat with sticks, belts, or fists.
The one word repeating in my head as the men ignored me, and stomped down on my hands and legs, and finally, my chest, was;
Why? Why did Patty do this to me?
The world spun around me.
A man in a purple uniform walked through the crowd of men, and knelt next to me.
As he began to reach to my forehead with an outstretched, pale hand, the last strand of what I could only speculate to be my sanity... snapped.
I began to laugh, and cry, at the same time.
Whether I was trying to laugh to hide the crying, or laughing so hard I cried, I... don't think I would ever know.
But all that I could look at was Patty's devastated face looking down on me.
Her damn face. It was a burning sight, forever seared into my mind.
There was a sensation of a migraine slamming into me as the man took his hand off my forehead, and raised his head, to whistle a tune that I had practiced over and over, in the hopes of keeping us safe, turned against everyone I cared for in a moment.
If there was anything left of my sanity, that moment, alongside Patty's face burned a hole into the rubble of what was left.
Her eyes now, though, seemed to reflect what I idly realized mine must've looked like.
But even though she looked alive, felt alive, she was dead.
I hadn't even noticed I had stopped crying.
All I could feel was anger. Anger so strong it felt there was something lodged in my throat, that made it hard to breathe, a weight that would always weigh me down, burrowed deep in my chest. Anger so strong I wished I could just light myself on fire and take them all with me.
But even that gave way to the numbness as I understood that there was nothing left.
My head hit the ground slightly as I relaxed, looking up at the gray, stormy clouds up above.
Patty had knelt down next to me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. Something wet hit my cheek, and I closed my eyes.
I felt her hand run down my face, and she let out a shaky breath.
I remembered her, back when we'd first met. She was one of the only kids there, that felt alive. She had hope.
She leaned over, and I felt her kiss my forehead.
I didn't react. Instead, I just stared into the sky. The storming clouds hanging overhead.
I heard her steps fade as she walked further, and further away.
I wished I had the strength to have kept my eyes shut, erase her from my mind, but I found myself trying to catch a glimpse of her back, as she walked away. She looked so small, her favorite pink, slightly-too-baggy, tattered sweater ruffling in the sea wind, and I fought the urge to call to her, to hope for her help.
I could see her turn to me, searching for something I apparently didn't give her, as she turned, shoulders sagging, steps heavy.
I let my eyes lock on to her, but not quite registering the moment she had left. I didn't or couldn't understand the idea that everything...was gone.
I realized that it was all over. They probably had agents at every safe location Patty and I had prepared.
I was going back to the foster home, wasn't I?
My head throbbed, and I groaned. My head felt like it was overinflated.
I writhed on the ground, but didn't get up.
Maybe I could die here. I think I would like that.
I stayed here for some time, but didn't feel any more rain droplets.
The sirens grew stronger, until they sounded close enough for me to realize they were here for me.
Was I going to jail?
I laughed flatly; it was a wet, pathetic sound.
I turned my head slightly, and looked on at what looked like an ambulance through one eye.
Two people in uniform ran up to me, and picked me up.
"Can you speak?" One of them asked me, and I wondered the same thing. With my lip swelling, no doubt, the answer was no.
I shook my head, as I felt my body shake as I tried to laugh again.
They signaled someone else to do something, and another man in uniform came rushing with a stretcher.
Soon I was strapped in, and brought into the ambulance. I kept my eye locked up to the sky for as long as I could.
"Patient seems to be in shock, with bruises on the neck, left and right wrist. There may be more beneath the clothes. Deep cut and swelling, at the right eye, possibly fractured or broken bone, following the brow ridge of the frontal bone, and a deeply split, open cut on his left lip. Both require stitches… Fucking monsters." One of them muttered, losing their professional tone the more they examined, before pulling out a bag of ice, and putting it over my eye, but not without an instinctual hiss as the pressure sparked even more pain, beneath the swelling.
They immediately noticed, and moved it, but between the throbbing coming from the base of my skull that seemed to bring wave after wave of pain, and that, my mind finally... let go.
I welcomed the darkness.