The walls are fading; the peeling white being somewhat blinding yet strangely dull, like the sun behind the clouds on a spring morning.
The blank ceiling seems to be painted with melancholy.
The floor does not reflect the cleanliness of the walls. Footsteps have never been so sinister. Its as though they havent cleaned in here for years.. and they probably haven't.
The sharp clink of metal against the stone wall sends shivers down my spine. I clench my fists as I wait for my next intake of breath.
My feet slip and slide in the crimson tears of my fate.
On the door is a number. 70. Thats me. They watch through smudged glass as I beg for mercy. No more.
I hear their harsh words as they drown out my screams. I'm seperated from them. We are different.
"I don't understand why he isn't even trying."
They have scans. Pictures stuck on the walls in no clear order to me, but they made sense of it. Scans of me, every part of me. My brain.
My skull, which they spent so many hours frowning over. Why? How? They beg that I'm not normal because they don't understand. Humans have always feared what they don't understand.
One more sharp object to pierce my skin; I don't even feel it. I am numb. But my mind is going crazy. I can't help myself.
I am sick of it.
Why should I be treated this way? Just because I am a little bit different? Why don't I deserve love, care, affection?
These shackles are not as strong as they thought.
I am stronger than they thought.
One more attempt to get a response from me. Something they can use. Their research. We are lab rats.
I look up, no longer staring dismally at my feet. They glance at me; oh? Maybe this is an emotional response. "Be careful..." she says, moving closer to the window. "He is dangerous.."
I grin.
Their eyes widen and they take a step back, grab their guns. My grin widens and I begin to laugh. I am not weak. Not any more.
I narrow my eyes which now seem to glow red with my anger.I can see them in my reflection, the devilish gleam shining through the chipped glass.
I stand up, and the shackles snap like sticks.
Now they are panicking. They shoot. One second of my concentration and the bullets bounce right off me as though they are raindrops hitting an umbrella.
Time for the revenge. I take a step closer; not that it is necessary. They continue to shoot until they run out of bullets. Foolish humans.
One, two, three. Bodies fall to the floor. This time the blood that creeps toward my feet is not mine.
Screams. They ring in my ears like pleasant music... oh, what a monster I must be.. but isn't that how I should be? Isn't that what they've always told me I am?
I never killed. But they treated me that way.. so weren't they asking for it?
I take a few more steps until I am out of the room. I don't look back. I will never look back.
I walk through the hallway, ignoring those who cower in fear, killing those who try to stop me.
And then I run, and I am finally free. I feel the cool, early winter air hit me simultaneously with the realisation that I may be free, but I'm not safe. They may come for me.. but until then.. I can finally live.
And so I keep on running, into the uncertain future.