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Twenty-Seven
Elijah froze. Memories of his time in the laboratory, having needles break his skin and locked up in a dimly lit room afterwards came to him.
“Yeah. Sounds like you do not want that,” Feyi said with a smug smile. “If it makes you feel any better, those kids are drug addicts. Instead of giving them more drugs to abuse, we give them proper treatment. It is unorthodox but effective.”
“You could just take them to an hospital,” Temi softly said.
“Who would pay their bills? Their fingerprints are not registered either. It is the "corrective center" they will be sent to.” She quoted the air with her fingers.
Feyi continued to talk but Elijah had already zoned out. He gave a slight shake of his head and turned away from the two girls.
He can not live like that again. Not when he has come this far.
He felt a tug on his arm. Shrugging it off, he walked away.
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