White.

Everything was white, and gray, and black.

The only deveation from this reality were the clinical blue scrubs of the doctors and the sharp variations of her observers eyes.

There were other colors, she knew. She had learned about them from the nurses during her mental development sessions. Brightly colored screens had taught her all she knew.

But in the real world, there was very little in the way of color. Color simply did not exist beyond those screens.

She went by the designated title of 12-A. She was what the the doctors who came every day to poke and prod her called an 'experiment'.

12-A didn't like the doctors much. They would yell and pump strange substances into her and refered to her as 'it', or, 'the specimen'.

Of course, 12-A didn't like the guards or the nurses much either and they were the only other people in the world, so 12-A supposed she didn't like anyone.

This was a dissagreable quality, one could surmise, but it hardly mattered when no one in the world particularly cared what you were like in the first place.

12-A wasn't allowed to touch the people.

her 'genetic modifications' as the doctors called it made touching anyone or anything she didn't have permission to against the rules.

If she did touch someone, they would burn.

well, that wasn't true, they would only burn if 12-A was angry or frightened, which she often was.

Being angry or frightened was bad, the doctors told her.

It sped up her heart, which triggered an increase in the speed of the movement in her molecules, causing her body rise to extreme temperatures.

When she was sad, or depressed, or her heartbeat slowed for any reason, however, her molecules would slow, resulting in the freezing of all surrounding H2O atoms.

whatever that meant.

12-A was a very young specimen, she'd often hear Doctors telling the new nurses and guards. Only seven years old.

12-A was raised in the Lab from birth, they'd say. She was the first for such a procedure.

12-A was the first specimen to survive more than a year after the procedures.

whatever that meant.

the world was a very small place, 12-A learned. There was only Hall, Lab, and Cell. there was nothing else.

Occasionally, Doctors and guards would leave this world, swiping their identity cards against a panel and exit through a gateway.

12-A was not allowed to go through this gateway. That was one of the Rules.

There were many Rules about how 12-A was to act, where to go, and when to speak.

If 12-A was to break these Rules, then the black and white 'collar' as the guards called it, would send a painful shock coursing down her spine.

The shock was quite unpleasant and until 12-A was old enoenough to properly comprehend the Rules, 12-A found herself a victim to this unpleasant sensation daily.

However, by the time she had reached the status of 'five years' the Rules, had been firmly implanted, and such affairs as the gateway became nothing more than an idle fascination.

12-A was determined not to break any rules, not after the Incident.

A guard had come to take her to the labs, and 12-A, feeling quite contrary that day, had refused to leave the comfort of her cott.

The guard had grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her out.

12-A had struggled and grabbed the guards wrist. Due to her current anger the man's wrist had been badly burned, the skin blistering and bleeding.

It had been unlike anything 12-A had seen and it terrified her.

12-A then vowed that she would all but worship the Rules. And never again would she struggle. She was monster that was meant to be contained.

Indeed, after that,12-A was almost the perfect specimen.

Every day was the same. 12-A woke up in her cell, was escorted to the labs, where she would have her daily nutrients and fluids pumped into, after which she would be led to the testing labs, where the guards in protective suits would try to hurt her, and the doctors would tell her to hurt the guards back.

This was the only thing 12-A ever protested.

The guards scared her when they lunged at her with their large batons and deadly blades, tearing through her skin and cutting her fireproof medical gown without effort or remorse.

In turn, 12-A was expected to hurt them either with fire or ice.

12-A didn't want to, she couldn't. 12-A would often scream and whimper in fear, to terrified of the towering, emotionless guards who brandished their weapons at her while scientists on the other side of the glass used their buttons to set off her shock collar in hopes that it would rile her up.

Eventually, the doctors would give up for the day and 12-A would be sent to the main lab for her injuries to be stitched and bandaged by a stone faced nurse.

12-A would then be led to her cell where she would use the facilities and lay on her cott until the darkness overtook her.

The perfect specimen indeed.

Everything else, however, 12-A endured with a blank face.

The shots the chemicals, the testing.

Because this was her life.

This was the world.

There was nothing else.

Right?

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And so dawns a new story that popped randomly into my head while listening to Rihanna.Be warned, this will be heavy on the angst my friends. Do not attempt if you can't handle being stabbed through the heart repeatedly.Enjoy!-Blue

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