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“It took you two whole days to come up with that plan?”
The Mogadorian grips hard on his stained knife. His pale face finally has color; the color of embarrassment.
The evildoer’s pride being crush is like a taste of wonderful victory. Although it is short-lived, I cherish rubbing his idiocy at his face.
“You must feel some kind of idiot,” I howl. I get a glimpse at Six; her eyes shining proud. We, being the captives of our enemy, defiance seem so achieving. However, that positive feeling is contradicted by her body. From my view, her shoulders seem to tremble. Knowing enough from the malevolence I have experience a few years ago, I already can predict what will happen.
The Mog easily contained his anger and says about having all the time in the universe, he will do a lot just to acquire the necessary information.
I wanted to say about how cliché the whole torture thing, and that my girl will never tell him anything. Before I can say anything, my prediction becomes true. He strikes me with all amusement, more than appropriate, with the butt of his knife.
Harsh wind escapes out of me. My senses barely keeping up as the Mog threatens Six. Within two days held as prisoner, these Mogs really are bored and we are the toys to kill that boredom. Seeing me in pain hurts Six, but I do not speak for our sake until now. It is like being in another nauseated universe as Six is in the verge of giving up. Love. What an ironic world.
Whatever happens, do not tell him your Number, I wanted to say, wanting to imply to her with my pleading eyes. For the sake of my girl and Lorien, do not think about my pain. However, Six does not pay me any attention. She wanted to save me or at least delay the departure.
She blurts out our no-permanent-address-adventures. All our past identities.
She talks about out mindless games and her not having friends. Her Chest being lost.
Then I see her point. I forcing the smile that is trying to surface.
“I am Number Eight,” Six sounds so confident, but it is pointless. The Mog already knows her tactic. Despite that, I am thankful for her.
She looks at me. My sight is going blurry. I try to relay gratitude with the consciousness I still have. Six looks at me with worried eyes. Worried, that the Mog saw through her. But that is not it, because the Mog takes a prideful speech in which I could only remember a few words. Yet, his tone is engraved in my mind. He is stupid enough to believe her.
“You have nothing. Number Eight,” the Mog triumphantly ends.
I just want to laugh at him. My Six outsmarted him; his pride made him an imbecile.
This is it because I could see the horror in her face.
I am happy to have you, Six. I wish I could just tell her that. I wish I could escape from here and take care of her. I wish I could live another day for her.
But that is just a fantasy. I have lost much energy and blood. Living would be a miracle.
I am ready. Thank you for the journey, Six. I know you won’t fai—
Before my world collapses into darkness and I see greatness beyond, I hear, “No!!!” A scream unmistakably from her.