Enjoy some recently written crap.
I woke up in a maroon collar so tight it choked me when I
turned my head, an aching body and an upset stomach. It felt like I had been
mauled by a starved rottweiler made of solid stone. I felt invisible bruises
and cuts. But the important thing was that I felt.
“Test subject R-34 is awake. He has survived the third
injection.” An omni-directional static voice sharp enough to put more imaginary
cuts in my skin boomed. I tried to stand, ignoring the static “Test subject
moving! Test subject moving! Restrain him!” Everything was alien; my body moved
lighting-fast to a coal black window and proceeded to pound on it. I wanted
out. I wanted out. I wanted out.
Two strong forms tossed me like a pebble at the wall. The
impact stung badly, but not as badly as when I woke up.
“R-34, get up. You’re going back to your holding cell. No
Was that my name?
They hooked their arms through mine and dragged me
forcefully from the bleak little room commanding me to keep their pace. By
‘out’ I meant out of this asylum. Was it an asylum? It seemed much, much worse…
And I was sane, wasn’t I?
A creak uttered from my cell door tore me from my thoughts.
Inside, it was darker than dark. It was like the color black just got a tan.
No, I didn’t want to go in there. Something was in there, I knew it. I was
suddenly three-years-old again, tugging on the sleeve of my mother and begging
not to stay in my room because of the demons under my bed and in my closet.
I struggled, my first mistake. One figure bashed my head
against the iron door and a high pitched sound entered the quiet, stale air. I
realized I was the one screaming. Hundreds of other high-pitched howls tuned in
with mine, all silenced after hundreds of bangs and clangs on other iron doors.
I regained my sense once the shroud of darkness swallowed
me. My eyes adjusted; everything was clear as day, but how? What kind of
experiments were they performing?
I stumbled drunkenly toward the iron door and checked if any
guards were out right now. I didn’t see any. It must’ve been late.
Most likely not to be continued.