Escaping Reality

Chapter 1

[AN : Please visit my blog at moonlight-blizzard. blogspot. com. (please search it via Google… You know links never work here…) My sister and I made it (*w*)

This chapter is dedicated to Lizaluvsdoggies, as a birthday present. Happy Sweet 17! GBU always!]

Mary Santiago sat in the dark, dank cell, waiting for him to return.

She had been an established CIA agent, had a perfect life with her perfect family, and had almost everything a 43-years-old woman could ever want. Career, money, family.

Until that fateful day.

It was a simple mistake, really. She had simply dropped her knife on a motion-triggered laser, and BAM! She had lost everything. In a mere 5 minutes.

The Circle made sure that she learned her lesson. As well as everyone else in the prison (roughly 150 prisoners).

She had been in that cell for 9 months, working hard to survive.

The Circle of Cavan had a special prison in Brazil. Every prisoner there had been broken. Secrets told, oath broken, etcetera. But in the Circle knew no mercy. There would be no killing. The 'used' prisoners would be sent to this prison, where they would work to grow coffee.

Yes, coffee, of all things.

She guessed coffee was a mandatory beverage for the Circle's agents, seeing as they work until late at night, every single day. How else they could keep the robot-like work with almost no sleep?

These past 9 months had been so hard. She was sure her physical appearance had been heavily deformed. Her clothes hung loosely, her skin was tight over her bones. Now, they didn't exactly starve the prisoners, but the meals were barely enough to last the hard labor.

9 months.

She had barely survived 9 months.

She really couldn't imagine surviving this life for 9 years.

~*:*:*:*~

Zachary Goode was the son of a high-ranking Circle agent.

Everyone knew that.

The Brazilian prisoners also knew that he had been brought up by said agent, Catherine Goode, to be the best Circle agent ever known to the world. He was Catherine's pride and joy.

Key word: was.

No one knew what happened to him. What made him hated his mother and his former life so much. Maybe she was too strict on him. Maybe he still had some humanity. Maybe her mother couldn't really change his pure nature.

But one day, shortly after his mother took him on his first kill, he had ran away from home.

Needless to say, he got caught, being only 8 at that time.

And ever since then, he had been a prisoner at the infamous prison, treated as an example. That no one, not even the son of the infamous Catherine Goode, could betray the Circle and got away with it. That the Circle had no mercy for traitors.

It had been 9 years ago.

~*:*:*:*~

When Mary heard the footsteps, she sat upright.

The heavy metal door banged open, and a skinny boy was thrown inside. He groaned as his head cracked against the floor, re-opening an old wound.

Mary hurried to the boy's side, lifting him gently to her lap. She caressed the dark hair, combing the tangled hair with her fingers. That was hard, seeing as his hair was matted with dried blood.

Over the past 9 months, she had known some things about Zach Goode, being his cellmate. She knew that every month, the Circle would 'punish' him over again. And over the time, she had grown a motherly love for the boy.

"Anything broken?" she asked gently.

Zach opened his emerald green eyes painfully, and muttered, "No."

Mary had had a 5 year-old son, and she remembered that her son's eyes were always bright with mischief, carefree and happy.

Zach's eyes were nothing like that. They were clouded with pain and misery. It made him looked much older than his actual age. She wondered absentmindedly, where Zach had obviously never been a carefree boy, when was the last time he had been happy?

Mary quickly did an once-over check on him. He was right, nothing looked broken. But there were countless bruises and cuts, and some were still bleeding. On his request, she helped him roll onto his stomach.

She took a deep breath as she studied the long gashes on his back. Whip marks.

Knowing the Circle, she didn't worry about infection. The Circle always drenched their victims in alcohol, preventing infection and hurting them at the same time.

Mary shuddered, remembering the burning sensation on her skin when her torturers had applied alcohol on the bleeding cut on her leg, once upon a time. She had nearly blacked out from the pain. It was no small wander Zach had been able to hang on, with that many cuts on his back.

As sad as it sounds, she guessed he was used to it.

~*:*:*:*~

After breakfast, everyone was herded to the plantation. Another long day at work.

It was harvest time, and everyone was given a basket, with strict orders to fill it up before sunset. Or else. Of course, no one thought of disobeying, much less stealing the coffee beans. The punishment really wasn't worth it.

Mary helped Zach as he limped out. He was still weak from his recent torture.

A man about 40 helped her, and together they dragged Zach under a tree, letting him rest.

Thankfully, almost all of the prisoners were fond of him. They used to help him with his work when he was too weak to do it. Like now.

The prisoners had an informal agreement; whenever one (or some) of them was unfit to work they would give a handful of coffee beans his/her basket. With more than 100 people giving a handful each, it would be enough to fill the basket.

So Mary didn't worry about her 'son'. Knowing that by the end of the day, Zach's basket would be as full as anyone else's.

~*:*:*:*~

Zach sighed heavily.

He really hated the feeling. He felt so… helpless. So useless. He didn't like it when everyone was helping him like now. But there was no way around it. He was barely able to sit up straight, much less running around the plantation, picking the ripe coffee beans.

So he leaned his head back against the tree Mary had left him under. There were some non-coffee trees around the plantation, thankfully, so he didn't have to lie under the baking sun.

He watched as birds fly over, wondering wistfully what it would feel like, to be so free. Free to go anywhere he wanted. He had never known that feeling, and, at this point, he had believed that he never would.

Because, who could take him out of this place? He was completely incapable of escaping on his own, he knew that. Heck, he was already so weak from years of torment.

He sighed again, closing his eyes.

At least he wasn't stuck in the dungeons, like some really unfortunate people, he thought, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin, the gentle breeze playing with his hair.

Yeah, he was as lucky as can be.

~*:*:*:*~

Mary silently snuck some of her food to Zach's plate, knowing that he needed it more than she did.

Zach sighed again, repressing his complaints. He seriously hated owing other people. And unfortunately, he owed everyone here (not the Circle agents, though) a great deal. They always told him not to worry about it. He knew they pitied him.

He hated being pitied, too.

Basically, he hated everything about his situation.

But he didn't say anything but 'thank you' to Mary, knowing if he argued, he would lose the argument anyways. It had happened a lot before.

The guards came, and roughly herded everyone back into their cells. Mary took Zach's arm and together, they walked obediently into their cell.

~*:*:*:*~

Zach glanced at Mary's sleeping from the corner of his eye. She wasn't his mother, but she was the only mother he knew. Catherine was never a good mother. She fulfilled his needs, yes, but that was it. She never cared for him. She only cared to use him as her tool.

Just another one of her pawns.

Is it so hard to understand why he'd hated her with burning passion?

Even though, he kind of regretted running away, but he really couldn't stand being near her. He couldn't stand being forced to do something he really didn't want to do.

His memories of his life before was pretty blurred. He only remembered bits of his old life. All painful memories. His devil of a mother, hitting him, not allowing him to go out of the house and play with other kids, and pushing him into that room, handing him a gun, and beat him until he pulled the trigger.

He remembered that night, clear as bell.

He remembered that he was just finishing his dinner, alone in his room, making his homework, when she walked in, and told him to follow her. Zach had learned to do exactly as he was told, so he did.

She drove him to a Circle base, and took him downstairs, towards the basement. He remembered walking along the freakingly clean white corridors, into an equally clean room.

A man was chained to the wall, obviously a prisoner.

"Zach," Catherine cooed, "shoot him."

She handed him her silver gun, and he took it hesitantly, hoping his mother wouldn't notice his trembling hands. Weakness wasn't an option.

He raised the gun, recalling the days he'd spent in a training room, shooting bull's eyes at the red dots. But this wasn't a wooden board. This was a man. A life.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn't find it in him to pull the trigger. She had persuaded him, gently at first, but she was quickly losing her patience. Catherine grabbed the gun from his little hands, and slammed the butt against his cheek, sending Zach spiraling across the floor.

Blood splattered, staining the white.

She kicked his stomach multiple times, and he couldn't help himself, he threw up. Catherine had screeched in disgust, yelling at him to shoot the man. When he still wouldn't do it, she pulled out a whip, and started slapping him with it.

Soon enough, Zach had lain in a pool of blood and bile, writhing in pain.

The man had watched the events in front of him, pity clear in his eyes. Finally, he called out for him to shoot. Just shoot, he'd said.

Catherine smirked, and pulled Zach up. She pressed the gun back into his hand, and turned him towards the man.

Zach stared into the man's blue eyes. The man seemed to send him a message. It was as if he was telling him it's okay to shoot. That death is mercy. That Zach was just helping him.

So he'd pulled the trigger, and watched as the man fell to the floor, lifeless.

To say the experience was traumatic was an understatement.

~*:*:*:*~

Zach had been quiet afterwards, keeping his thoughts and emotions in. He was honestly shaken, but he knew he couldn't show that. So he'd keep it all inside. In despair, he'd planned to run away. To escape his life.

To end this, for good.

The plan was flawless, really. Or as flawless as an 8-years-old mind could make up. But of course, despite the exceptional training Zach had gotten, he wasn't good enough. He hadn't got enough training, enough experience. He'd tried to pull off something even a highly trained operative wouldn't be able to do.

So why'd he done it? For simple reasons, really. Later, he'd defined his motive as fool's hope and desperation. And the five minutes of freedom really wasn't worth the pain he had to endure.

He remembered the terror that overwhelmed him as her mother's goons had dragged him back to that accursed place. He remembered being paralyzed with fear as the eyes identical of his own had stared at him coldly, and ordered the guards to take him to the torture chamber.

He remembered screaming and writhing in pain for days. He remembered sitting limply, chained to a chair, in a pool of his own blood. He remembered wishing he was never born as they'd doused him with alcohol for the first time. He remembered being knocked unconscious, and somehow, they'd transferred him from USA to Brazil.

He remembered how, every month, he had to go through the same thing over and over again.

Despite the hot, humid air, Zach shivered, pulling the thin fabric they'd given him as a blanket tighter over him. He went to a corner, and curled up against it, imagining comforting hands emerge from the wall and hugged him, protecting him.

Sometimes Zach wondered if he'd lost his mind. He often imagined bizarre things, things that wouldn't make sense to normal, sane, people, he knew. He wouldn't be surprised if he had gone crazy. In fact, he was surprised he was able to hang on this long.

But sometimes, his imagination was the only thing that could brighten up his black days. Like the hands he imagined the walls have, where he drew the slightest comfort from. What else could comfort him, but himself?

He really hated his pathetic life.

~*:*:*:*~

Mary woke up, slightly disoriented. She stirred slightly, wondering what had woken her up. She could have sworn she'd heard something, but it was dead silent.

There. The slight noise. Mary quickly sat up, alert. She glanced around, and saw Zach sleeping on a corner. She turned to the door, and wondered if someone was outside. But if there was anyone outside, she wouldn't hear a thing. She'd known for a fact that the cells were soundproof. So the only logical source of the sound was Zach.

She scooted closer, worried she'll wake him up, but he was sound asleep.

She took in his expression, and heard that sound again. A low whimper. She sighed. Of course, it was Zach having a nightmare. He'd never had a screaming nightmare before, instead he would whimper.

Even if she hadn't been on the field for a while, her senses are still keen. Of course she would be woken up by the slightest noise. But in a way, she was glad she'd woken up.

She shook Zach slightly, calling his name. "Zach…"

When he still wouldn't wake, she shook him harder. "ZACH!"

He jolted awake, eyes wide with fear. He took one look around, and burst into tears.

"Oh, sweetie," Mary murmured as she held him close. "It's okay… It's just a dream… You're okay… Zach, you're okay."

What she really wanted to say was the phrase 'you're safe'. But that would be a lie. At times like this, she really couldn't help herself. She wanted to burst through the doors and marched into Catherine Goode's office, and shot her down for what she'd done to her son.

It was completely unrealistic, she knew, but blame her motherly instincts that hated to see her baby got hurt.

Finally, Zach's sobs died down, and he looked up at her with big, teary eyes. "S-Sorry…"

"It's okay," she responded automatically, pulling him closer. "Want to talk about it?"

Zach was silent for a long time, before he explained in a small voice. "S-She was taking me to th-that room… to that man… I w-was reliving that n-night all over again…"

Mary had known the story, so she nodded sympathetically. She knew it was a big trauma for Zach. So she murmured all comforting things she could think of to him, rocking him gently.

They stayed like that for a while, before Zach slowly fell asleep.

Mary stayed up a bit longer. It was an unwise thing to do, she knew. She would need all the rest she could get in order to face the upcoming day. But she couldn't help but stay up a little late and thought of all the different scenarios related to getting Zach out of here.

Of course, everything was impossible, so soon she lay down, sleeping with her sort-of-adopted-son in her arms.

~*:*:*:*~

Catherine Goode walked down the corridors of the Circle's main headquarters in America. It was a very exclusive headquarters. Only heads of the Circle branch all over the world had access to it.

Her high heels clanked against the floor, the sharp sound cutting through the air like a gunshot. She didn't care, though. She was almost late for a very important meeting, and Catherine was never late. Ever. She had a reputation to protect.

1 minute… She thought, as she hurried (though she was trying not to look hurried) down the stairs.

45 seconds… There! She burst through the doors, her calm façade plastered firmly on her expression, masking everything she was feeling. Inside, she was panting, and was mentally wiping her brows with relief. She was never late.

She sat on one of the high-backed chair, counting down the 45 seconds before the meeting would start. In her world, punctuality is number one.

Despite the 15 top agents gathered there, there were no hello's or whatever. The room was deadly silent, and everyone was assessing the people before him/her warily, knowing that the people around them was likely to turn and stab them in the back.

That was the way the Circle works. Solitarily.

3… 2… 1… 0…

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Elias Crane, one of the leaders of the COC started. "As you all know, we have spent these last few years looking to Cameron Morgan, whom we believed know a vital information regarding the threat, Matthew Morgan."

No one reacted. After all, this wasn't news to them.

"I want to inform you that this morning, 9:54 a.m. in Rome, Samuel Winters had succeeded in compromising Ms. Morgan."

Everyone clapped politely, as Samuel Winters, head of the Rome base, smiled smugly. He would be getting a one-month break as a reward, and the Circle is going to fund all his vacation expenses. He was really pleased to get that reward.

Catherine raised a delicate eyebrow, impressed. Cameron Morgan, despite her young age, was a hard mark. She was a real pavement artist, and she was trained by the best. Guess no one could escape the Circle, she smiled.

Elias continued, "Catherine, you will take over Samuel's task for a moment. Charlene, you will run the American base for the time being. Leave your husband to run the Paris branch. You will interrogate Cameron, and once you're done, report to me immediately."

"Yes, Sir," Charlene and Catherine replied in unison.

Catherine silently regarded Charlene Dubois, head of the Paris branch. She seemed to be a resourceful woman, though Catherine was uncomfortable with the idea of leaving her territory in her care.

Oh, well, she thought. Orders are orders.

They discussed some other topics for a moment, before Elias ended the meeting.

Catherine stood, and walked to her car. Thankfully, she had one of her safe houses near the main headquarters, so she would be able to rest before packing for Rome.

Her mind was already formulating plans. She planned to break Cameron Morgan quick. Finish the business as soon as possible, and then return to America, and back to running her base.

A small voice in her mind whispered tempting things to her. She hadn't had a break in a long time, and Rome was a really interesting city.

She smirked. She could use a private vacation once in a while.

When in Rome…

~*:*:*:*~

[AN : This is slightly OC, but, well… whatever. The Brazilian Prison is inspired by the Hunger Games' District 11, just to throw it out there.

Elias Crane, Charlene Dubois, and Samuel Winters are from Out of Sight, Out of Time, so clearly I don't own them, though I took the liberty to describe their personality and position…

Cammie will come around in the next chapter…

What do you think? Review?]