A lot of people ask me why I have a screw in my head, why I did it and if it's even real. Of course it's real and you'd be surprised twisting it actually relaxes my experimented-on body. They all say I'm crazy; that I am just an insane scientist, but if they only knew the truth...

It burned. I could feel the bright green liquid enter painfully through my bloodstream by his rather large injection needle. Closing my eyes tightly, I wished for nothing more than sleep, the thing this man barely allows me to do. Scratching noises. I know he's writing my reactions onto his cold, metal clipboard that only his eyes can see. This man always does it after experimenting one of his creations on me. Gasping, my eyes snap open as I curl into myself, my stomach lurching and seeming to twist within me causing such immense pain I could not even scream. Sweat drips down my pale face as I gag in my own saliva, barely being able to swallow now. The man moved too fast for me to see what he got, but searing pain entered the side of my neck seconds later before everything blurred...slowly turning into blackness...such a distasteful color...

Silence. It echoed into my ears as I forced my dull eyes to open. A quick glance around made it clear I was alone, but when I tried to sit up something stopped me. I glared slightly up at the dirty ceiling already knowing that my ankles and wrists were chained down to the man's operation table. Never was I lucky enough to be able to move about while he was gone, he wanted me to stay here and be his little lab rat until the day he killed me. I shifted some, letting out a small hiss as I felt the freezing restrains brush deeper into my nearly white flesh. What day is it now? I've lost count so many times, I wonder how old I am now...do I look any different than the last time I saw myself...at age five?

Dazing in and out I think of nothing and everything at once. So many different emotions fill me as I think of my mother. What was her name, do I look like her at all? Is she laughing at her only son somewhere above me? Or perhaps she regrets dying to give me life after nine long months of carrying me? ...Did she ever care about me or did she wish I was the one who had died instead?

Clicking of multiple locks. Handle turning before the creaking door opened. He's back, I know this at once, he is the only one that ever comes down to see me. Glancing over I see short, silver locks above glasses too big for his narrow face along with his usual smirk and bloodied lab-coat. I stare at the scalpel resting in his right hand as he slowly walked over, barely applying pressure at the collar of my shirt. It easily tore the fabric and as much as I wanted to struggle I just stared at the little pieces of thread coming undone as the sharpened scalpel cut my shirt; my pale chest soon illuminating from the lights shining down upon me.

I shiver, looking up at this scientist, who in return was staring down at me. My eyes couldn't help but widened as my reflection showed for a couple of seconds in the man's glasses. No...it was not possible! There is no way I look like that...just like the man hovering above me...

The man smirked even wider at me when he took notice of my slightly fearful expression. Feeling the cool blade gently scrape my bare chest I couldn't help but try to bury myself into the operation table, yet this man just chuckled. Almost gracefully, he slashed right down the middle of my chest as I slammed my head into the back of the table, letting out a howl of agony as I felt the warmth of my blood trickle from the fresh wound. I writhed beneath him as my teeth dug into my lower lip, I would not allow this scientist the pleasure of my ragged screams. I barely registered the fact my eyes were full of unshed tears until I thrashed my head almost painfully to the side, salt water making its way quickly down my face. Every small cut to every deep stab I could feel this man's scapal carving into my skin like it was paper for him to draw on with a crimson pen know as my blood. My wrists and ankles soon bruised against the pressure my restraints held on them as I thrashed about. Trying to keep my voice inside I allowed this man, who looks so much like me, to tear me apart and explore my fragile body.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. How long did I last such a never-ending torture? It feels like needles stuck out of every pore of my body as my eyes tried to focus, slowly opening them. I must have passed out at some point because all I remember is this horrible pain throughout me surrounded by such a bloody grin laughing down at my helplessness. Coughing hoarsely I ever so slowly sat up, wincing as it felt like dry ice had entered my veins making me want to just fall over and pass out again. I blinked a couple of times before realizing I was no longer tied down and I was alone again. I shifted some, hands automatically going to my abused chest. Stitches. Perfectly done stitches laced my whole upper body, but many parts of it were swollen with inflammation and the smaller cuts left dark brown scabs across most of the stitches. I couldn't help but stare down at myself in disgust. Criss-crossed scars, scabs, and stitches laced my entire torso...it looked horrible, but as bad as it was the pain was definitely worse.

After a couple of minutes of examining my ugly chest I stiffly raised my hands. Dark purple and dull yellow mingled together causing brown, almost black, looking bruises circling around both of my small wrists. Swinging my legs gently over the operation table I looked down and saw the same circled bruises around my also small ankles. Glancing around the room, taking in more detail this time, I looked over every nick and cranny to see if there was something I could do or use to escape. I slowly slipped off the table, bracing myself back against it when a wave of nausea wash over me. Opening my tried eyes that had closed from the dizziness, I made my way across the room to the thick metal door that stood between this torture chamber and the rest of the world. Ignoring the pain signals my nerves were sending me, I reached out and tried to open the door that I hoped would lead me to my freedom.

Click.

The first smile in a very long time slowly appeared on my worn-out face as the handle turned completely. I pulled the heavy door inward, it creaking open as I looked past it, curiously. Seeing nothing but a blurry outline of a pitch black hallway I glanced back into what has been my room for years. Thinking for a moment I stepped back and took two sharp scalpels, one in each hand before going back to the doorway. I heisted before taking a steady deep breath and walked into the color of nothing and into the unknown...