Saving The Forgotten

• Kirra Hosking, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2019

My name’s Tammy, I'm 16 and for at least 2 years I've been staring at the concrete wall. The limestone floor is deathly cold, the walls are yellowing with age, a torn spring box mattress and a bucket are the only things in here. There’s no windows, only bars on one side of the room allowing meagre rations to be dropped in. One thing I know for sure is I’m not delusional, (contrary to what the therapist says) I know why I’m here, my parents took me here after discovering I was a "Forgotten." A unique society of people who were exiled after the war of 2080. We have special powers, they take us here to neutralise their effects. I'm the rarest of the 'Forgotten,' a mimic, I can other powers to use at my own will.

With no human contact since arriving here (other than the wardens) I fear I’m going insane. Yesterday, I could barely understand what I was saying, verbal vomit, it was unlike anything I remembered or had known. Maybe the therapist is right…

Today, one of the wardens came and grabbed me roughly by arm. He was grunting and smelled of cigars. This had never happened before, I didn’t know whether to be afraid or excited. He dragged me out of the cell, lead me into a dark room, shoved me onto the concrete, then left hurriedly.

Suddenly, a light flickered on and I saw a man sitting at a desk. His face concealed by shadows. He rose and walked over to me and I saw the illuminated object in his hand…The sharp needlepoint of a syringe was gleaming, fluid, falling down the needle. I backed into the corner. His breath was now inches away from my neck, I squeezed my eyes tightly, bracing for the prick. Instantly, pain shot through my body like fire through bushland.

I laid, convulsing on the floor like I was being electrocuted. My hair tangled and the ground gashed my back, the seizure ended but I was still in agony. As I rolled onto my stomach, the man spoke in a hoarse voice, “That was concentrated ‘Sodium Pentothal’, we heard you Tammy, we know you remember what happened in 2080."

I was perplexed, then I remembered my verbal vomit. Somehow I had remembered, a truth so frightening it could destroy the world. Thankfully my last mimicked power was chemical immunity. The truth serum would not affect me.

"I’ll never tell you!" My dry throat muffled my shouts.
"You're the only one who remembers, you can trust me,"
"I would rather die than tell you, forget it!"

He kept pushing, but I wouldn’t budge. He leaped out of his chair, throwing it to the floor with a crash and held up his hands, inching closer to my neck, then clamped them around my neck. He would never get me to talk. I drew my last breath, thinking of the sacrifice I had made for the Forgotten, smiling as everything faded.