"Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is." -Albert Camus
She rocked back and forth on the cold floor of the testing chamber, hands clenched into trembling fists in front of her face, terrified eyes peering out at the blood-splashed walls from under her matted hair.
Behind the one-way mirror, one man turned to another. "Jim, if you would?"
"Yes, sir," he muttered. He straightened his lab coat and moved for the door.
The room was carnage - blood and shreds of viscera nearly to the ceiling in some spots. Every surface was tiled in cool shades of blue, the lights recessed into the ceiling under panels of glass; there was a grated drain in the corner, to which the floor gently sloped.
It was a room designed to be rinsed out in the spaces between tests; rinsed and scrubbed down until it shone and smelled faintly of lilac-scented cleaner.
As Jim came through the door and stepped inside, it smelled of raw meat and, incongrously, dark chocolate.
The girl on the floor sniffled.
Jim knelt next to her, reached out to touch her shoulder. "Jean?"
She wailed, her voice thin and strained.
"Jean, it's all right."
She was sobbing quietly, her breath hitching.
"Jean, what's the matter?" He stroked her back, smoothed her hair.
"I killed him," she said, and bit at her nails. "I killed him."
"It's okay, Jean," he said. "You were supposed to."
"Jim-" She broke off and hiccuped.
He scooted on the floor to where she could see him and began to wipe her face with the cuff of his lab coat sleeve. "Jeanie, it's all right. You're going to be fine."
"Jim - I liked it." She hiccuped again, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed and stared at him over her fists. "I liked killing him."
"You did a good job, Jean," he said, and gently pulled one fist away from her face. "It's okay to like what you do."
"He was sick. I could taste it." She sniffled, but let Jim uncurl her fingers to clean some of the blood from them.
Blood was grimed under her fingernails, into her knuckles, splashed up to her wrists, smeared to her elbows.
"Let me see your teeth, Jeanie."
She bared them at him, her eyes shining with tears. The large canines were slightly yellowed but clean, the incisors chipped at the edges, the molars outsize.
"Good girl." He squeezed her hand. "Are you okay to go shower?"
"No more tests today?"
"No more, Jeanie." He smiled. "That was the last one."
"Okay," she said, her voice soft.
He helped her to her feet. "We're going to get you all cleaned up, okay?"
She nodded.
"Can you wave bye?"
"Uh-huh."
She lifted one hand and waved to the mirror. "Bye-bye."
"Good job." He took her hand, flashed his keycard to the reader. "Let's go get you all cleaned up."