Days pass in a slow silence.

I've stopped playing music. It's too painful to listen to.

My body aches but it's the exhaustion I'm struggling with most. Every movement is a struggle. Simple tasks drain me of energy. Minutes on the treadmill feel like hours.

The sample taking and monitoring has increased. Ben is vaguer with his explanations which means they're planning more procedures. I should be worried. I'm not.

I care less and less about what happens to me.

I barely talk to Ben anymore. However, the less I interact, the more overbearing he becomes. He heats my food, makes my bed, suggests books for me to read on the screen and songs I should add to my abandoned playlist.

It makes me warm to him when all I want is to hate him.

I'm laying on my bed staring at the ceiling. I do this a lot.

'Would you like to eat in bed? Or I can help you get out, so you can eat beside the window?' Ben opens the microwave door and retrieves two containers of food.

'I don't need you to baby me,' I mutter slowly, rolling out of bed. Keeping my back to the glass wall, I head straight for the table and sit down on a chair.

I can't look at the view. Every time I do, it results in a large tug of grief and a sharp stab of loss. It would be easier if I was put back into the windowless room.

Ben sits at the table with me, arranging our containers in front of us. He's started to eat most of his meals here which is annoying. It makes it even harder for me to hate him when I see him as a normal functioning person.

He's not normal. This is not normal. This whole setup is messed up.

'I saw you managed a little longer on the treadmill today. How are you feeling?'

'Fine,' I mumble. Stirring the food, I watch the spirals of steam curling upwards and fading into the air. If only it was that easy to disappear.

'If you're still in pain we can give you more painkillers to relieve it,' Ben says concerned.

You're partly to blame for the pain. You allowed them to operate on me. 'Are you going to be operating on me again?'

He fidgets as he contemplates his answer carefully.

That's a yes, then.

'There has been talk of it.' He fixes his eyes on me.

I've never noticed their colour before, flecks of green, blue and brown blend together. They're confused and muddled just like him.

Ben places his spoon on the table. 'There is a slight disagreement over how we should proceed.'

I arch my eyebrow questioningly.

He scratches his jaw which has even more stubble. He's started looking slightly unkempt like he's overworked and overtired. Are all these visits beyond his expected duties? Probably. I can't imagine Louisa agreeing with all this, the meals, the talk, the semi-honesty.

'After your mother destroyed the lab equipment, alongside most of the research files, everything was put on hold. All the progress they'd made was lost while Virulence continued to kill the remaining population on the outside. It took years for replacement equipment to be sourced from the outside during which the new leaders decided that Louisa's research on genetically altered embryos was not an effective use of resources so they shut it down.'

Ben taps his finger on the table absently and gazes out the window. 'When we brought you here, we tested which diseases you were resistant to, and compared your DNA to the other test subjects who had been pulled from the trials because we knew from previous experience that their alterations did not provide resistance. However, when we compared your DNA with those failed subjects we noticed many of them share the same DNA alterations as you which means your resistance is not solely due to the DNA alterations made by the research team. It's been suggested your resistance may be due to a combination of factors which may or may not have affected how the DNA we altered is expressed.' Ben leans back in his chair.

What are you talking about? I rub my temples gently, to calm the tension headache building across my forehead. It doesn't work.

'I don't understand,' I say.

'Basically, you're resistance to diseases, including Virulence, is not due solely to our DNA alterations. In fact, our DNA alterations may have nothing to do with your resistance to diseases especially Virulence.'

'So I don't have a better immune system?'

'You do but it just isn't necessarily due to the DNA alterations we made.'

'What's it due to then?'

'Several factors combined together. It's likely a mix of genetics and environment which by chance led to an improved immune system.'

'What does that mean for me?' A flicker of hope ignites inside me. They don't need me anymore.

'We're meeting later today to discuss how to proceed with you. There have been several suggestions which look promising.'

All my hope is extinguished. They're not going to let me go.

I imagine the white-coated people sitting around discussing the research. All of them would have lost people they love. Some will be filled with hatred, anger and resentment, stuck in the past and unable to move on whilst others will want to let go of all that pain and loss.

Who would I be if I was them? Would I be so warped by my past horrors that I would justify taking the lives of others in the hope of preventing another death by disease?

'Are there others being tested on right now?' I ask.

'The other participant's lack of resistance was determined early on and the survivors were discharged from this specific trial.'

'Survivors,' I murmur quietly. 'How many died?'

'I don't know exact numbers.'

Liar.

'We had lots of survivors. Like I said previously, they make up most of the teenage population. Your mother didn't destroy their files. She ensured the lists of who was not resistant were still accessible. She was a clever woman, she saved a lot of people by being selective over what she destroyed. But she destroyed enough that all the genetic sequencing had to be restarted from scratch. Everything was set back years by her actions.'

I ignore his dig. I'm proud of my mother, proud she didn't cause the suffering of more people. 'Do you think Virulence still exists?'

'No. I think Virulence's success ultimately led to its eradication.' Ben shrugs.

'That sounds like something Jenna would say.'

'The science teacher?' Ben looks perplexed.

I nod. 'She used to update me on research taking part in the Techie settlement, particularly any progress on pathogens and Virulence. I found it fascinating at the time, but then I didn't ever imagine I'd end up becoming part of the research.' I pick up my spoon and mix the lukewarm food in front of me. I don't attempt to eat it.

Ben drums his fingers on the table. 'Jenna was a Naturalist like you. She's the only Naturalist to have transferred here.'

'Why?'

'It was in the early days. The wall had just been built and the settlements were still establishing themselves. The Naturalist rule of no touching was a new concept, one the people in this settlement didn't understand. Jenna was delivering produce to our settlement with a group of others and someone from here accidentally touched her in front of lots of people. The Naturalist Council said we had to take her in as she would not be allowed to stay with them or she would be exiled and forced outside the wall. The person who touched her took her in but it caused problems. Back then the Naturalist settlement was incredibly basic, and as much as the people who joined had dreamed about living a simple life, in reality I don't think it was as pleasant as they imagined. After Jenna's transfer here some Naturalists started to seek us out, to try and trick us into touching them in the hope of being transferred here.' Ben grimaces. 'It's why the rule of us not being allowed to take in any exiled Naturalists was created. Not that it's stopped us, it falls on us to escort exiled Naturalists so we simply bring here and tell the Naturalist Council leaders we took them to the outside.'

'So there are other Naturalists living here in the Techie compound.'

'Not anymore,' Ben says carefully.

'But someone was exiled only a few years ago and she was young, she must be here.' I persist.

'I don't know about all the cases.' Ben grabs our untouched containers and takes them away. Busying himself with arranging the containers.

He's avoiding answering me and I bet I know why. They don't take them in out of the goodness of their heart, there is an ulterior motive.

'You use them, don't you? You conduct research on them,' I say accusingly.

Ben's hand tightens on the container. I'm right.

'But what research? They won't be resistant to pathogens,' I say.

Ben turns to face me. 'We have different research projects exploring multiple aspects of science which would benefit future generations. The risk of another pandemic is not the only problem we face. Soon this settlement will get to small for the growing population, and we won't be able to support it. We need to ensure we are prepared and set up for that eventuality. We always need human samples and participants to take part in our trials so we assist in anyone who is granted end of life, we inject them allowing them to die peacefully and in return, we utilise their organs and tissues. We also take in exiled Naturalists.'

They used Alma's tissues and organs.

The thought makes my insides twist. Would she have been happy with the outcome? She was a nurse, she often spoke of the use of transplants and blood donation in the old world. On her last day, she told me how she was sad to think once she was gone there would be nothing left of her. This way she will live on, in some strange way her tissues and organs could possibly be the reason for a development which may help people.

Except, Alma wouldn't agree with them holding me prisoner. She wouldn't agree with hurting people.

I clear my throat. 'Using a dead person's leftovers is being resourceful. Keeping an alive person against their will is cruel and unethical.'

'And leaving them out there to die is better?' Ben sneers. 'The outside doesn't offer you a better option. You wouldn't survive out there.'

'People do survive. Drifters survive,' I whisper.

'Drifters?' Ben shakes his head and walks over to the window.

'Yes, Drifters. The ones who attack us and take people.'

Ben crosses his arms across his chest. 'We set up the Drifter attacks.'

Why does that not surprise me?

I flashback to Zach showing me the only entrance into the settlement, him demonstrating the alarm system.

There were never any Drifters.

'Why?' I ask.

'It ensures people follow the rules. It also allows us to select participants with the least fuss.' Ben frowns.

'Hope is here? She was taken during the last attack. You told me there were no others being tested here.'

'There aren't. None of the other participants who were selected during that attack including Hope are here.' Ben still has his back to me.

They're dead. Hope is dead.

I don't ask how. I can't handle any more information on the pain they inflict here and realistically it won't help. Knowing how she died won't erase any of the sadness I'm feeling. Especially, as she probably died in excruciating agony like I imagine I'm going to.

'How long have I got till you kill me?' I say flatly.

'We're not going to kill you, Kit,' Ben's voice sounds urgent, 'you're safe here.'

He really believes that. He's not only a psychopath, he's deluded too.

The problem is he can't guarantee my safety. He can't guarantee I'll stay alive because I doubt my death will be intentional. It will happen inadvertently. They'll take too much blood or inject me with a substance which I react badly too or push my body a little too far, then I'll be gone like all the rest.

'I'm tired, I'm going to have an early night.' It's a pathetic excuse. He monitors everything I do. He knows I've had two naps already today.

I walk to my bed and curl up into a ball while Ben clears away the full containers.

'I'll see you in the morning, Kit,' Ben says softly from the door.

'Goodnight, Ben.'

Pulling the blankets over my head, one sentence repeats in my mind on a continuous depressing loop.

You wouldn't survive out there.

Author's note:
I'm depressing myself with these chapters!
Things get a little intense over the next few... I'm excited!
Keep reading because we're nearly at the end...