Experiment13;Number12

To prepare for Nuclear war in the not-so-distant future, the government has started experimenting in order to create new weapons. The perfect human is what they wanted. All they got were some flawed beings.

 

The burning sensation rioted through her veins, protesting with every single wriggle of pain her body attempted. She screamed, her voice creating not even the smallest of sounds. The pain was too much to bear. She told herself not to give up, but there was no one she could give up on, no one to let down. She knew her brother had the same fate as she.

Then everything was gone.

A void. Nothing. She felt nothing, she heard nothing, and she saw nothing. She reached out, grabbing, trying not to fall into the blackness that enveloped her. Her fingertips grazed nothing, not even air. She knew what this was. This was death. This was the very end.

Then she felt something, it was small, but it was something. She heard it. It was a scream. It was her brother. She wanted to cry out in agony. Not in her sake, but in his. Cry out because she gave up, because she couldn’t save him.

            Suddenly, there was a pulse. Everything stretched, moved, waved. The void tried to decide on a shape. A swirling blue light shot through the void, like lighting, but without making a sound. She wasn’t dead. That was her life. The last thread, the last bit of will in her. 

            She reached up, and it came right to her, it wrapped itself around her, like a blanket. It’s blue light painted her face in an arctic glow, highlighting every facial feature. She felt the shockwaves of its presence running through her. Then her eyes were open, seeing the world.

            Her head hurt as if it had been run over by a semi-truck. She reached up, but something was holding her down. She was too tired to open her eyes. But this seemed to be her only resort.

            Then something struck her.

            It wasn’t a kind of physical pain like what she had felt earlier, no, that was gone. It was an unknown feeling: the feeling of not knowing. She didn’t know where she was; she didn’t remember anything. She just remembered the screams, and the pain. She didn’t even remember her own name. She knew it, it was on the tip of her tongue, and she could taste it, but it was unwillingly stuck to her mouth.

            Only at that point did one particular memory hit her. Her brother. Where was he? Was he dead? Her eyes watered at the thought. She couldn’t just lie here, no matter how tired she was. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. She sucked in as much air as her lungs would allow and bellowed a long, hissing, terrorizing scream.

            That’s when there seemed to be an uproar. Everything was moving around her, people, medicines, smells, shapes, colors. She felt dizzy. Then there was a click, and nothing was there.

            There was a spot in the back of her head that hurt more than the rest of it. This wasn’t like the other pain; this pain was only skin deep. It was just one particular spot, right above the nape of her neck. She opened her eyes once again. She went to rub the spot, but she couldn’t move. There was something holding her down.

            She looked at her surroundings, hoping to see some sort of life besides her. The room smelled like disinfectant and medicine. It was snow white, not a spot of color to be seen. The lights were fluorescent; her eyes burned just looking at them.

            She tried her voice once again, “Hello? Can someone help me? I can’t move!”

            She was shocked to hear her own voice. It sounded different. It was higher, but it sounded like a soprano singer. It was angelic. It sounded perfect. Her eyes got wide.

            She looked down at herself, hoping that she was actually there, and she wasn’t some kind of tentacled monster. But all she saw was an incredibly itchy and awfully ugly white garment. She saw that her feet were under the garment, but she could not actually see them. She wiggled her toes to make sure that they were attached. This whole ordeal was giving her an extreme case of the creeps. She was waiting for someone to pinch her so she could actually wake up from this horrible dream.

            She could feel the cold steel forming around her wrists and ankles. Feeling was coming back. Whatever had happened to her, the pain, the screaming, then the numbness, it was all going fast.

            That’s when it hit her.

            A hospital. She was in a hospital. Now, she was completely and utterly confused. She couldn’t remember any events that had happened before the pain, she was strapped to a table like an asylum patient, and she could’ve swore that she was dead. Or had died, for that matter. Panic was setting in. She moved around, squirming in her confines. The metal was shaking like chains, making a dark noise that you only want to hear in horror movies, when the ghosts are walking up the stairs for the next kill.

            Footsteps. She heard footsteps. Plastic soles hitting linoleum. Then squeaking against the spilled water. It hurt her ears. It wasn’t a pleasant noise at all.

Then there was a gasp, and more footsteps. People were talking. But only one sentence in particular was important to her. It was a female voice, it sounded happy, yet detached. Like the woman who owned the voice was only doing this because she had to, and was pretty good at faking a cheerful demeanor.

“Well, it looks like Number 12 is awake!” She laughed darkly.

Number 12? Is that my name? A number?! What happened to me? Why am I here? Why? She wanted to scream out, but she something inside of her told her to keep her trap shut.

She closed her eyes as the unhooked her from whatever sort of monstrous contraption she was on. She felt hands all over her body, her legs, her arms, and her head. Her head hurt, though. A pain so unbearable not even words could describe it. She could smell the rubber gloves they wore, and hear the squeaks as the fingers rubbed against one another. It sounded disgusting to her.

There was more incoherent babbling. She wanted to look down, make sure her skin was the same color, that she was still a she, but there was also many hands all over her face, probably to hold her head still. The pain kept on striking. Tap after tap, poke after poke, all in the back of her head. Scenarios ran through her head, scaring her. What if this was amnesia? What if she survived some kind of freak accident, but her brother didn’t? What if she really was dead?

The nurse with the detached voice was right in front of her face, interrupting her terrorizing thoughts. She smiled a smile that only a professional actor could pass off as real. She said something to the people inspecting her head, and they all left. She looked at the nurse and smiled.

“What happened?” She asked, her head hurting with every move she made. She squirmed, trying to get away from the nurses gaze and the pain. She looked down quickly, only to see something that wasn’t her. Her eyes widened in horror, and she sucked in a gigantic breath. This was not she. Her skin was as white as a ghost, and completely soft, it felt flawless, like that of an angel. She looked back up to the nurse’s calm eyes and asked one simple question:

“What did you do to me?”

The nurse replied in a dark tone, “We made you perfect!”

Author's Note

RAWR. THis is old.