Subject Record #1

Contains mild gore. I may later go on to create a series of these...or maybe not. We'll see!

Dr. Carrie White

E's medical condition is detetiorating.  Supplied with ample food, exercise and mental stimulation she is still worsening.  She shows comprehension of the tannoy system but has not, as of yet, spoken back, though she has been seen mouthing words.

 

From window viewings it seems she sustains a number of bruises, cuts, scrapes and various other injuries.  The current theory is that whatever happened to her in the accident has induced a state of constant post-traumatic stress disorder. 

 

Tomorrow is her first full medical examination, we will put her under of course.  Last time I attempted to enter the lab she backed into a corner, and showed indications of violent intent when proximity length was reduced.  E did not leave said corner for three days, refused food, and did not move, even for bathing and excretion purposes. 

 

E is in extremely bad condition, and is going into full time mental rehabilitation after the examination.  

 

 

Evangeline's mental diary

 

The room has white glowing walls and a marble floor.  The ceiling is high.  I can't get out.  I won't talk to them, they took me away.  I don't know where I came from before, only that it was a safe place, a happy place.  I can't handle this.  I can't cope.  I'm just shutting down- these flashbacks keep plaguing me...are they really my memories? They just can't be...they feel wrong, they aren't me, they aren't real.

 

So, where do they come from?

 

=flash.back=

 

I'm sitting on a chair next to a young girl in the kitchen, and on the table my sewing kit is laid out.  I double thread and knot a needle with pale pink thread, and I smile wryly at the girl. 

She lets out a sharp laugh, smiling back at me.  Putting on a brave face.  She pulls down one side of her pyjama bottoms, exposing a wide, nasty gash in the flesh of her thigh.  Her leg is covered in flaky dry blood flakes, but the cut itself still glows and oozes the bright crimson colour of life while it leeches out of her.

Pushing the seperated skin together, she winces, and steels herself.

 

I push the needle through her skin and bring it back again.  Penetrating new holes in the flesh each time, I stitch the wound together.  We continue like this, my face set in determination, while she bites the insides of her cheeks and stares up at the ceiling, eyes glistening damply.

 

We don't talk again.

 

=flash.back.end=

 

These people are dangerous.  I can't trust them.  I'm staying here, in this room...for as long as it takes to find a way out.

Author's Note

Yes, I did name the Doctor after the Stephen King character from Carrie, a book I'm currently reading...(I'm in love with Stephen King's writing!)
Thoughts?