The Real Awakening - Chapter 2: Them

The youth did not know how long he had been unconscious for. By the time he jolted awake from his nightmare, he found himself lying in a closed, narrow space. The cold beneath him seeped into his bones and slowly invaded his thoughts.

All that lay around him was pure white.

White tiles, white walls, white ceiling, white lights, and the white gown on his body. The entire space was like a world made of piled ice and snow, a white that was blinding and dizzying. Even his head was filled with a hazy white.

W-What is this place?

He dazedly blinked, struggling to pull from any memories. But a few seconds later, he discovered that he could not recall a thing.

Who am I? Where is this? Why am I here?

No, I don’t know.

Everything was blank.

He had forgotten it all; he had even forgotten his own name.

The boy remained curled up, not moving as he spaced out with wide eyes. Finally, he snapped out of his stupor to stiffly and slowly crawl up from the floor. With a probing look on his face, he scanned his surroundings.

This was a sealed space only about six squared metres. It was completely clean with no windows. Three sides were tall, straight white walls, while the remaining side appeared to have a matching snow-white metal door embedded inside. The door did not have a handle, and its frame was inseparably close to the walls, leaving basically no crack.

Looks like a hidden chamber.

The youth shakily walked a few steps as he blankly moved in a circle. However, he did not find any exit, just a tiny vent above the four-metre tall wall.

The four-bladed fan in the vent was spinning at a leisurely pace with a faint buzz. Beautiful sunlight gradually passed through the slowly rotating fan to form a bright ray of light that diagonally shot downwards onto the freezing floor tiles.

What exactly is this place?

Why am I locked up here?

The youth stared at his surroundings in bewilderment, spacing out once again. Finally, he strode over to the metal door and shouted.

“Hey, is anyone there?”

Hey…is anyone…is anyone…there…there…

His hoarse voice intermittently echoed through the closed space in a somewhat chilling manner. Having scared himself, he couldn’t help but fall quiet as he peered at the door with no idea what to do.

But even after waiting for a long time, he never heard anything outside the door. Thus, he curled his hands into fists and forcefully banged the door a few times.

Bang, bang bang…bang bang bang…

Dull thuds rang as his fists struck the white metal door.

“Hey! Is there anyone outside?”

“Somebody! Let me out! Let me out of here!”

He shouted loudly, only to be accompanied by echoes upon echoes as he beat the door. But even after his mouth had gone dry and his energy had worn out from the yelling, there was no response from outside. It was like he was stranded on an isolated, barren island by himself.

What’s going on? What kind of situation is this?

The boy retreated a few steps and helplessly looked at the impenetrable metal door. Just then, for an unknown reason, a sharp pain shot through his left hand and arm.

“Ugh…hurts so much…” He couldn’t help but clutch his arm as he bent over at the waist.

The stabbing pain intensified, and he could even sense waves of heat radiating from his arm through his thin clothing. When he pushed up the sleeve to take a look, he saw the inside of his left forearm had at some point gained a small black mark.

W-What is this?

He frantically rubbed it and discovered that it could not be wiped off.

It was a tattoo imprinted using a fine needle.

The tattoo was of an Arabic number: 13.

13? What does that mean?

Why did a number appear out of nowhere on my arm? Who tattooed it there?

The youth stared in shock at the number tattoo on his arm until he suddenly heard a sound ring out from somewhere.

Knock, knock knock.

He startled and whirled around, but his surroundings were empty with nothing there.

What was that noise just now? Where did it come from?

His eyes widened in fear like a small animal that had run into a predator. He looked left and right, staying alert as he scanned the narrow white space.

After a moment of silence, the sound came again.

Knock, knock knock.

Alarmed, he turned his head to peer intently at the metal wall on the left.

The noise had been from the wall. It was clear like a drop of water, yet also seemed like someone was lightly rapping against the other side of the wall. Quiet, with a probing uncertainty of a stranger knocking on the door of an unfamiliar house.

Could there be someone next to me?

Apprehensive but curious, he went over and pressed his ear against the wall while responding by mimicking the knock, knock knockin the same spot on the wall that the sound had originated from.

The person on the opposite side paused for a few seconds before speaking in a thin, indistinct voice.

“Is…someone over there?”

It was a girl’s voice: delicate, frail, and slightly hoarse.

The youth hurriedly replied in excitement, “Yes! Yes! Someone’s here!”

But the wall fell silent once more. There were no further words of response.

He frowned in suspicion and urgently rapped against the wall while asking, “Hello? Are you still there?”

After waiting for a while, a reply finally came from the other side.

A very small voice answered, “Yeah, here.”

The boy could not swallow down the rush of joy in his heart as he rushed to say, “Excuse me for saying this, but I’ve been locked up – Could you help me? I want to leave this place.”

When he finished speaking, the girl slowly stated in an even, empty tone, “I’m very sorry, but I can’t do anything either. We…can never leave.”

We?

The youth hugged the wall as he quickly confirmed, “You mean that you’re also locked up?”

The girl responded with a soft grunt of affirmation, then added, “They won’t let us out.”

“They? Who’s they? Why did they lock us up?”

The string of questions hastily tumbled out from his mouth, but the only answer he received was a gloomy sigh.

The girl said, “I…I don’t know either.”

“You don’t know either?”

The boy hung his head in disappointment for a moment. Then he murmured, “Then, who are you?”

“Me? I’m No. 17. What about you?”

“No. 17?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he muttered, “Where in the world would such a weird na—”

He abruptly cut himself off midway and pulled up his sleeve to look at the tattoo on his own arm.

Right then, the girl next-door repeated, “What about you? What number are you?”

“I…I’m…”

His head spun as he stared at the black Arabic numbers and stammered out, “I’m No. 13.”

“No. 13?” The girl was taken aback. She pressed, “You must be new, right?”

He tilted his head in confusion without replying.

The girl bitterly chuckled. “Because the previous No. 13 is already dead.”

“The previous No. 13? What does that mean?”

The youth was completely stunned, and he added, “How did that person die?”

“I don’t know.”

“In that case, where exactly is this?”

“I…don’t know that either.”

“What is going on here?”

“Stop asking questions. I’m actually just like you; I don’t know anything. I just got here a few days before you did.”

The girl’s voice was low and carried a trace of gloom and depression.

He heaved a dispirited sigh and dropped his forehead in his hands as he slowly slid down the wall.

The two stayed there in silence for a long time. Finally, the boy abruptly commented, “Hey, No. 17, what’s your name? You should have your own name at least, right?”

“Name?” The girl laughed mockingly and replied, “No one here will call you by your name.”

The youth shook his head. “No, I’ll call you by your name.”

She giggled and responded, “Then tell me your name first.”

He blanked for a moment with a trace of confusion in his expression. He lowered his gaze to inspect his arm tattoo again while slowly stating, “I…I seem to have forgotten my name.”

“What? Forgotten?”

He chewed on his lip and sadly confirmed, “Yes, I can’t remember no matter how hard I try.”

“You don’t even remember why you were sent to prison?” The girl asked.

“Prison?” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Although I don’t know what this place is, I know that every single person locked here were selected out from juvenile prison. I figure you shouldn’t be an exception.”

“Juvenile…prison?”

He mumbled these words again, yet his mind remained completely void of memories.

The girl sighed, “Forget it. And here I was hoping to ask what you did to get arrested.”

The youth turned his head and inquired, “What about you then? What crime did you commit to be locked up in prison?”

“Me?”

The girl chuckled in what seemed both a casual yet desolate tone.

She slowly enunciated the three words: “I committed murder.”

“W-what did you say? Committed murder?”

The boy sucked in a sharp breath of shock.

“Yes.”

“Who did you kill?”

“My stepmother and her son.”

“You actually killed two people?”

The youth couldn’t restrain his exclaim in surprise.

The girl remained calm as she indifferently stated, “That’s right, I killed two people. My birthmother died early, and my father married another woman. After my father died of illness three years ago, I lived together with that woman and her son. That day, I mixed several pellets of rat poison into the chicken soup for dinner, then watched in delight as they drank it all and vomited blood. They both died, just like that.”

The girl spoke in a deliberately light tone, but the words she spoke gave an exceptionally dismal chill.

After falling quiet for a while, the boy asked, “Why did you kill them?”

“Why?” The girl murmured, “Because I wanted to continue living. If they didn’t die, I would’ve been the one to die in the end.”

For a moment, he had no idea what to say, and could only respond with silence.

The girl did not speak again either. The two sat in the stillness with the cold metal wall between them.

There was no telling how much time had passed when a clattering suddenly came from outside the door.

It was the echo of leather shoes clicking against the floor.

Someone’s coming! And from the sound of the footsteps, it’s not just a single person! 

The youth leapt up from the ground and excitedly lunged towards the door to pound it while shouting, “Is someone outside? Let me out! Let me out now!”

However, even after shouting himself hoarse, he was ignored.

The gradually approaching footsteps came to a stop very close to the doorway.

The girl next-door let out a cry.

“They’re here!”

They? Who’s they?

The boy stuck his ear against the wall to listen in.

There seemed to be people talking on the other side, but because they were far from the wall, he could not discern their speech.

“Hey, No. 17, No. 17, what happened? No. 17?”

The youth shouted out multiple times, but there was no response from next door.

What happened? Did those people go to the room next to me just now? 

What are they doing? What in the world is this place?

A series of confounding riddles assailed his mind as the youth felt an unprecedented panic. It was as though a man-eating beast would leap out from behind the blinding white metal door at any moment.

Amidst the fear of the unknown, time trickled past, seconds turning into minutes.

By this point, the adjacent room had quieted down.

Everything was dead silent.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, or even more time might have passed like this. In the end, right as he was about to lose all patience, another wave of footsteps came from the hallway.

Tap tap, tap tap tap tap, tap tap tap…

They walked over, getting closer and closer, closer and closer.

A shrill, electronic beep played out next to his ear and the frame surrounding the snow-white metal door lit up with a fuzzy red glow. While alight, the door noiselessly slid open to the right.

The boy took a step back and anxiously gulped. Before he could utter a sound, he saw three strangers in whitecoats walk inside.

Every one of them wore a white surgical mask, making it impossible to distinguish any faces. The only visible parts were the emotionless, frosty eyes showing above the masks.

They wordlessly studied the short, skinny boy before them like a pack of tigers eagerly eyeing its prey.

The youth scrambled backwards a few more steps until his back was practically glued to the wall. He trembled as he watched the visitors of unknown identities and asked, “Wh-who are you people? What do you want to do?”

The other party did not respond. The head of the group was holding a golden metal case in their hands that was not large in size. It was skillfully crafted, with a small and delicate lock keeping it closed.

This person stared down at the boy and stated, “No. 13—”

“No! I’m not called No. 13!”

The boy interrupted and emotionally shouted, “I want to go out! Let me out!”

The whitecoats calmly stared at him without speaking. He seemed to hear a cold scoff come from behind the thick masks.

As the boy gazed past their elbows, he locked his eyes onto the open metal door behind them. Then, he gritted his teeth and shoved aside the whitecoats, recklessly charging out. But before he reached the door, someone grabbed hold of his collar. Immediately after, he received a strong punch to the stomach. His innards seemed to twist together as the pain from his gut overwhelmed him.

With a cough, a mouthful of sour bile spilled out from his lips.

The youth was bent over at the waist when the person holding his collar threw him backwards, causing him to land heavily on his butt.

A whitecoat strode forward and warned, “Even if you made it through this door, you would never be able to escape from this place. I suggest you save your energy.”

The boy clutched his stomach as he fearfully raised his head and asked, “What a-are you guys? What are you trying to do? Why are you locking me up?”

“There is no need for you to know the answers to those questions.”

The whitecoat’s voice was frosty as he levelly yet mockingly replied, “All you need to know is that from today onwards, your name is No. 13. You do not need to trouble yourself over anything else. Do you understand?”

The boy gasped for breath as he stared blankly at the man.

The whitecoat coldly snorted before turning to shoot a look at the two companions behind him.

The other two whitecoats walked over to stand on either side of the youth. They dragged him and half-lifted his body to restrain him against the wall.

“What are you-you people doing! Let me go! Let me go!”

The boy screamed as he wildly thrashed his legs around.

However, all his attempts to resist were futile as his arms remained firmly shackled so that they were unbudgeable.

The whitecoat did not take any note of his yells, instead crouching down to continue with business. The man carefully laid the metal case flat against the floor before fishing out a key from his pocket to insert into the keyhole and lightly turn it.

Ka-thunk.

The lock opened.

The boy quieted down as he fearfully yet curiously stared at the metal case.

As the lid slowly opened, what jumped into his vision was a neat row of syringes..

Extremely thin yet very long syringes, with needles at least five centimetres in length. Each syringe was filled with a strange liquid. Some were crimson like blood, some were a viscous blue-green, and there were even some that were pure black.

The unidentified liquids gurgled with bubbles as though alive, stirring restlessly within the long glass syringes.

W-What are those?

The boy’s eyes widened.

After studying the syringes for a while, the whitecoat selected one labeled “13” and gently pushed down the piston to squeeze out excess air, leaving only a transparent, yellow-orange liquid inside.

The man stood with the needle in hand to look at the youth with a smile.

Yes, he was smiling.

Although he was wearing a mask, the boy could clearly sense the sinister grin behind it.

“No, no, I’m not sick! I don’t want a shot! I don’t want a shot!”

The boy struggled with every bit of his strength, but just as the dread from the depths of his heart had surged to its peak, a faint stabbing pain flitted over his right wrist.

With a violent shudder, he lowered his gaze to helplessly watch the unknown, yellow-orange liquid being injected into the vein of his arm without a single leaked drop.

Once the needle was pulled out, the whitecoats on either side of him released their grips.

The boy collapsed, having lost all strength as he slid down uncontrollably into a boneless heap on the icy tiles. His head grew murkier and he couldn’t keep his eyes from closing.

Sleepy…so sleepy…

He dazedly lay on the floor. Through his hazy consciousness, he dimly heard the three whitecoats exchange some simple conversation, though he could not make out their exact words.

Then, they exited the room one after another, and the dazzling metal door quietly closed.

Soon afterwards, an alarmed cry came from the wall on his right.

“No, don’t come near! Let me out!”

It was a boy’s voice, filled with panic and fear.

So…so there was also another person trapped…in the room on the right…

He blurrily thought this as his consciousness made a vain attempt to fight back before ultimately falling into muddled sleep…