JINX

EPISODE 27

*Beep. . . Beep. . . Beep. . .*

The continuous sound coming from the Ventricular Fibrillation (VFib) soothes his nerves, but for some parts of his body reaction, the repeated sound makes him anxious also.

His head is bent down as his forehead rests on the cold side rail, both hands grips into it as well. He's murmuring thoughts under his breath that some aren't related, and some are just random, a moment for Carlo to calm himself completely.

"No. . . No, please don't." The kid talks that made Carlo lookup to check up on the kid.

"You're awake—" He's about to finish his sentence but only for him to realize that her eyes are closed; that's when he knew that she has a dream. Just then, it only lasted for a split second before the kid keeps silent again. "Hey, kid. . . Are you okay?" He asks as he pokes her by her shoulder, but only stillness comes in reply. That made Carlo turn to both sides before bringing his gaze back at her. Carlo inspects her for a few seconds to check if she'll once again talk, but when he wouldn't want any longer, he goes back to resting his forearms down into the side rail as he uses it to lie his forehead into it. But as he is about to close his eyes again, she decides to continue talking.

"Please, don't do this." She says as Carlo immediately lifts his attention to her. The kid places both of her hands on both side rails where control panels were. "Please don't. . . Mister Miguel. . ." And as soon as the name escapes into her mouth, his eyes widen.

"Mi— mister Miguel?"

"Mister Miguel, run! Run— no, no, no! Let me go! No!!!" The kid starts to shake her body like she's trying to escape from a grip when she's clearly free from any restrictions.

"Miss—"

"Run! Don't ever come back— no! Don't!" The kid's body stiffens as veins start to pop up on her neck, making Carlo have no choice but to rush to the other side of the bed and press the emergency button that would direct her to her assigned care providers. When he did, he quickly places both of his hands as he cups the kid's face.

"Kid. . . Kid? Are you okay? Wake up. . ." He says, thinking that waking her up is the best option. Carlo is not a certified doctor or nurse, and that the only source he could rely on is religious and real-time experiences references rather than science and myths.

"No, don't touch me! Go away!" She says as she tries to fight him from touching her. That made Carlo blink thrive as fast before shaking his head.

"Miss, I AM NOT going to hurt you, okay? I just want you to calm down because help is on its way, okay?" He asks with such calmness that makes the kid stop fighting slowly. The kid then opens her eyes, making Carlo sigh in relief. But before he could even celebrate, the kid throws her hands in a fighting position as she pushes the man away.

"Who are you!? Where the hell am I?" She asks as she became fully aware that she's lying on a different ground. "What the HECK am I doing here!?" She raises yet another question that Carlo tries to find and mouth out the words that she needed to hear. . . In a very calm manner.

"Kid, I know you're mind is puzzled right now to these questions, but I just want to let you know that I am someone that you can trust. I am not here to hurt—"

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" The woman screams that made Carlo step back.

"No, no, no! Please don't panic! I'm a good guy!" He says as he tries to reach out his hand to touch hers when the kid's eyes widen in fear.

"NO! STAY AWAY—" she cries out, and just about time, two nurses, and a doctor comes to her rescue.

"Kid, I just want to know about Miguel—" he speaks out his concern that made the kid furrow her brows. She knows what he is talking about.

"How did you—" the kid is about to ask something when one of the nurses turns to Carlo.

"Sir, I need you to step out of the room for a minute to calm her." The nurse demands in a very polite and professional manner that Carlo couldn't disobey. He then turns to the kid as the kid still has her eyes glued on hers.

"Please take care of her." Carlo pleads as the time he turns his attention to the nurse. She nodded.

"She's in good hands, sir. Don't worry about it." She says before they nod at each other. As the nurse turns her attention on making the kid calm down, so is Carlo, who decided to get out of the room with hands clenched tightly. When he's out, he walks his way towards the waiting area with less tensed muscle and a bit of hopelessness. He sits there as he firmly rests his elbows an inch above his knees, hands cupping his face after burying his face on his palms.

•••

"Melissa, did they do something to you? Are you okay—"

"IM FINE, Chris. No need to ask me all over again." Melissa held her hand up into his face as the irritation builds inside. "Besides, if you're REALLY THAT CONCERN, you should have interrupted us back there."

"But, how can I? I can't see a thing and specifically couldn't understand what they were saying!"

"But if you were able to understand, you would have done something differently?" Melissa throws the questions with such disappointment in her tone. Chris couldn't get sure it otherwise. "Yeah, right. That's what I thought." She answers her own question without receiving any reply from Chris. It made her feel more disappointed over the man who shouts concern after the heated situation— the moment when she needed someone to support her.

The rest are just listening to the bickering of the two, as their mind is preoccupied with something else. . . Perhaps, someone. Miguel, Kyle, and Blake are sitting at their chosen bunker beds as they wait for anything to happen. They just got there five minutes ago, and nobody wanted to discuss anything. . until Chris decided to ask Melissa multiple times with the same question.

Blake has never been so emotional, even when it comes to his friends. He's known to be the cold/heartless man they could call friend, but at the same time, he can be the hardest person you could ever deal with if you mess with his friends. . . And for a short period, Ash became his friend.

"Son of a b*tch." He mutters as he still looks on his dirty feet, sweat slowly yet continuously dripping from his forehead. As the three of them are spacing out with their own train of thoughts, Melissa and Chris decided to settle down and keep quiet as they both notice their aloofness. Melissa could feel their grief, and so is Chris, who wanted to cheer them up. . . But he knows that it won't be going to work, only if they're in an old movie where jokes about a painful moment are helpful. Instead, he became rational.

"Do you think we'd all get out of here alive?" He asks that instantly got all of their attention. All are giving him sad, pained, angered, and numb expression all once.

"I mean, not that it's apparent that they won't let us but if you're going to ask yourselves. . . Do you think we will end up like the rest? Because I'm starting to lose hope already." He confesses.

All have a mutual feeling. All of them are, undeniably, losing hope.

Blake scoffs as a way to escape his tears from coming out. He doesn't want to cry again. Not for the same reason.

"It's funny how determined we are to escape, the time we all step foot into that stinky, prisoner or something like that. We all have the same mindset, and that is to get out of that Motherf*cking he'll hole and run back to our parents or guardians or anyone we have left. . . And now, when the moment of truth came, at last, we all thought we succeeded. We all thought there's hope. . .But, I don't know. Maybe God just wanted to play because we decided to defy his will of staying on one gender. . . Maybe this is the ‘KARMA’ that will pay our freedom of choosing our identity." He voices out, but his eyes are no longer staring on the floor nor at his dusty feet.

Instead, he's looking deadly straight into the white floor as the face of Joseff projects into his thought. Blake clenches his fist as he thought of Joseff surrendering his originality just for the masked freedom. The masked sovereignty where lies hide underneath it.

"It sucks to think that they're shoving us back into our patience to trigger our demons. But if I were to ask, is rather die being me rather than living but burning the REAL me." He says before lowering his gaze and says nothing more. All of them keep silent as they ponder everything that Blake says.

It all made sense to them. . . All of them are in pain, but how much longer can they extend until they snap out of it?

Will they be able to sacrifice half of their individuality to get out like what Joseff did?

They all turn and lift their heads when they hear the door opening. All are NOT wondering who it might be, but the reason why that person came is the scary part.

"Are my little lambs having a group talk? Maybe I should join!" Pastor Roman, with his annoying voice and smirk, comes into their vision as everyone groans secretly. Behind him is Ruther, who already changed his shirt in a blue one with HE IS MY SAVIOR  print on it.

"You know what's annoying?" Blake asks, wanting to piss them off.

"Enlighten us, Mister Fall." He replies with such interest.

"That needy pr*ck beside you wearing that f*cking shirt on. Tell me, did the HE means YOU? I can clearly predict that you saved his sorry *ss after getting himself beaten up for being a nerdy f*ck! What's your name again? Ruther, right?" He asks as he turns his attention to Ruther.

"We're you bullied before you got here? He became your savior, and that your revenge is to kill to sustain the unhealed wounds your bullies cut?" He asks that made Pastor Roman look over his shoulder. Ruther nods before taking a step forward, pushing his glass bridge to keep it in position.

"I didn't know you can be an intelligent individual, Mister Fall. I genuinely admire how detailed you are when it comes to your predictions. And to answer your curiosity? Yes, I've been bullied before, and he became my savior."

"Oh, so wearing that retro shirt will remind you how GREAT he is? Or is it an advertisement to join us to praise him as well? Because clearly, we have A LOT of reasons not to." He speaks up as Miguel reaches his hand out, resting on his shoulder. Blake throws a glance at him for a second as they stare at each other before Ruther decided to break the silence.

"And I had a LOT MORE reasons to Believe in him—"

"SHUT UP, KID!" Miguel, this time, decided to speak out. All are quickly glued on him as if made him gulp but decided to compose himself rather than trembling and showing how intimidated he feels at the moment.

"Just because you believe him doesn't mean we have to, okay? Look, this psycho Pastor may have something to do with your redemption and that he became the reason why you're still alive right now, but WE DON'T HAVE THE SAME REASONS HERE!" He says as rage fills his mind and heart. The thought of the people, including the individuals from their batch who died, makes his blood boil, as his mind plans of better ways to kill him without mercy.

"He saved you after being bullied? We get that. But wake up kiddo! You don't see us ending up in the same position as yours. . ." He pauses again after feeling a hand reached for his. He turns to see Kyle as he gives him a small smile before offering his hand a gentle squeeze to show support.

That made him less dead.

"You know why we didn't end up like you when we were a kid and up until now?" He asks, wanting to turn the table.

"What, mister Miguel?" Ruther asks. And with a sly grin of confidence, Miguel answers.

"Because we didn't need anyone to save us when times get hard. We didn't let anyone belittle us. WE didn't let ANYONE think we are less important than them. That is why they chose to lock us here to corrupt our g*ddamn minds! They want us to surrender and give up the strength that's left of us and to think that we are useless to the others who only did nothing but to freaking slump into their beds and stare at those upgraded gadgets and motors to their heart's content!" Miguel takes a deep breath as he thought of an OK and convincing line to test his fate.

"You're NOT one of us, Ruther. And you will never be. Why? Because you're weak. . . Weaker than you think."

Ruther's eyes widen when Miguel lets go of those words. He wasn't expecting it at all, and he doesn't want to think of being weak again.

‘Weak. . .’

‘You're weak, Ruther. . .’

‘You're weaker than you think. . .’

‘You're not one of us, Ruther,’

‘And you will never be. . .’

"Ruther?" He snaps back to reality after spending a slit second into the darkness and the noisy voices.

"Yes, pastor?" He asks as he could himself shivering. . . the same feeling he had when he encountered the memory that became his nightmare.

Pastor Roman gives Ruther a small smile before turning his full attention to the remaining kids in front of him. He then raises his hand on a shoulder level as he stretches his point finger upwards and bends it twice. A second later, two men came is die with black trash bags at hand.

"Help them clean themselves before dinner. . . Let's have a celebration tonight, and I want them looking decent."