Wanted Girl

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: The Science Fiction Hub


Themes of human experimentation and an event that barely makes sense but oh well.

Chapter 6 (v.1) - Chapter 6

Submitted: July 06, 2018

Reads: 72

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Submitted: July 06, 2018

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I'm woken by someone shaking me awake. A quick glance at the window tells me it's morning. I sit up and look at the person who woke me up. I don't really feel that sick today, and when I'm told to stand, the room doesn't spin and I'm steadier on my legs. I follow the person reluctantly down the identical corridors, and into a large room. My heart sinks. I recognize this room. This is the lab.

Expensive machinery and what seems like acres of sterile white cabinets line the walls. A large table sits in the middle of the room, and scientists in white coats check on other experiments. Chemicals and unnamable substances seem to line every available surface. It's confusing, terrifying, disorienting, and drags up horrible memories. I'm in a living hell, stuck in a nightmare.

I'm led to the table, heart racing. I'm instructed to sit, then lie down, on it. I shake my head, shying away from it.

"No," I say, staring them down. "I'm not going to do what you say. I'm not a rat. I'm a person! This is probably illegal. It's, like, torture. I WON'T! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME DO ANYTHING!" my voice raises in terror, and they roll their eyes. I'm lifted up, dropped on the table, and something is plugged into my arm, and immediately everything becomes hazy. I'm only half-conscious, helpless, powerless, trapped. I stare at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing in the world, ready to comply with them, do anything they say. They have the drugs to stupefy and daze me, reduce me to an empty shell so they can try to separate my power from me, drugs to make me tell them everything.

"Right. We need to go easy on her right now. It's been a long time and she's only just healed. I don't want anything to happen to her." I hear a voice say. It sounds distant, like I'm hearing everything underwater. I hear the words but it's like my brain has gone to sleep. I'm like a nuclear reactor with almost all the control rods down, in a near-shutdown state. I can't even feel scared. I see them, with their masks and machines and whatever hellish equipment they've got, and a tiny part of me is screaming, terrified, trying to awaken the fight-or-flight instinct, but it's drowned out in the void of my drugged mind. The first test begins.

My body hurts, horrible searing pain that takes over, but I don't actually feel the pain properly. I'm completely spaced out, unable to do anything by myself. The ceiling looks dim and bright at the same time, and I'd feel disorientated if I could actually feel anything.

"Right, that's enough for now, her pupils are so dilated you can't see her irises." Someone says, but the voice sounds like I'm hearing it from miles away. The scientists stop what they're doing and clean me up. I can tell this time, like all the rest, has been a failure, that they've been unable to discover anything they didn't know. In this session today, they've measured my brain activity whilst I was increasing and decreasing my radiation levels, taken a blood sample for testing, stretched each of my senses to the limit, injected all three types of radiation (alpha, ?, beta, ?, and gamma, ?,) into me to monitor the effects of them on me, tested my physical abilities to the max, tried to make me transfer my power to someone else, a terrified-looking guy, with no good results, and tried to separate a small amount of radiation from me using electro-shock, with no success. Now, finally, it's over for today. If this is what they call "going easy," I dread to think what it'll be like in a few days' time when they ramp it up.

Although I'm stunned and completely and utterly out of it, I can remember everything in vivid detail. Later, when the effects of whatever drugs they've been pumping into my arm for God knows how many hours wears off, I know I'll be feeling sick, terrified, and slightly traumatized. It's been that intense, that bad. The way they do things to a person…

Someone injects a different drug into my arm, and lifts me up carefully, but not caringly. I lie limply in their arms, my body feeling heavy and uncooperative. I'm carried down the corridors and placed on my bed, then left alone, numb and isolated.

I dimly sense someone come in, and a woman without any protection on appears in my line of vision. She softly brushes the hair off my face, her eyes full of pain and worry. I very dimly recognize her, but I can't make any connections.

"What have they been doing to you, honey? And they call this going easy? Oh, honey…I can't believe this. Twelve years…I've missed you so, so much, honey." The woman says, her words backed by anger and edged by love, pain, conflict. She leaves my room, and I'm left staring at the ceiling again.

Slowly, the drug wears off, and I feel the pain for real. I also feel sick, terrified…everything I expected to feel. I curl up on my side, facing the wall, whimpering, trying to hold myself together. I suddenly realize where I recognized the woman from, and why she kept calling me "honey." Honey…I haven't been called that since I was four, but it'd be hard for me to forget my name, my real name. And the woman…the woman is my mother.


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