Thud! The smack to the face sent a slight cracking sound vibrating through my skull. My jaw drooped to the left and blood oozed over my lips. It hurt so much, not for the first time though, whenever the Professor broke my jaw.
"Come on, boy! Heal your bone structure." The Professor said through deep breaths. "You've done it before, boy. A lot of work's gone into this. Just heal it!"
I lifted my stricken head to look my oppressor in the face. "I'm schrying," I managed. Through the look I caught flashing in his eyes; I knew it wasn't good enough. I remembered the first time I had met this man, this beast with no conscience, when I was only a young boy. He had been kind then. A gentle character with concerns for my welfare.
The Professor raised his arm again with a bloodied fist, readying his muscles once again for the impact. I could almost feel the air solidify with the tension. I embraced myself for impact. I waited for what may have been minutes, my eyes clamped shut, afraid of the expected blow. As my left eye opened into a squint, I could see him metres away from me now, speaking in quick, anxious whispers with a mysterious figure I hadn't seen before. I stood to try and overhear what any of the two were saying. I was unfortunate because once my legs had straightened; the Professor had twirled around to face me.
"Enough for today, boy. Get to your room and clean up. No reading, just sleep. You're going to need all the rest you can get boy," he said to me with a grin crawling over his face. "Tomorrow's a special day. For you and everyone. Here's an EVE hypo to get you right again. Now get going."
I was astonished, to be honest. I could only catch the hypo he tossed at me and stare in amazement. This is probably the first time since I can remember that I was allowed to go to my bedroom early. What generally happened to me everyday was to stay in this pristine-white room and try out whatever Plasmid they needed testing before release. Today had been a healing Plasmid, hence the punching to my face and chest. I couldn't remember what happened other days, I can only presume they wipe my memory of that Plasmid and heal any wounds over the night.
As I gazed at the large, blue hypo sitting on my palm, I instantly felt like I needed to sit down. Needles made my legs practically turn to pinkish jelly, also bringing up the queasy feelings most people get on vehicular trips. I glanced around quickly and spotted the charred remains of what was once a plastic swivel-chair. I strode over to it and slumped down. Ignoring the acidic scorch marks on the wall and slashes of claw-marks, I clenched the cold metallic frame the glass was held and readied for the needle.
Before I jabbed myself on my left wrist, I quickly recalled the innumerable number of times the sharp, silver spike had replenished me of any weariness. It still obviously hurt slightly, but I don't really mind after having it done beyond counting. It had swollen considerably after so many punctures and left a nasty scarlet patch of skin.
I slid the needle in gently and grimaced as the blue fluid was absorbed into my bloodstream. I embraced the feeling as warmth and relief flooded through me. I stood up, now completely unaware of the blood dripping from my cuts and made my way to the door. I had to walk past the strange man to get through the door and I decided to attempt a look at his face. I looked up at him (he was interestingly tall) and as I glimpsed his face, my eyes peculiarly enough wandered away from him again, forcing him to only be a person in the corner of my vision. I knew it would be rude and probably get me a kick in the shin if I were to turn around and stare back at him, so I continued my short journey to my bedroom.
As I entered the room, the steel door was immediately slammed behind me, shoving the back half of me into the almost closet-sized bedroom. It was exactly like prison cells I had seen in the Sunday movies they allowed the other test subjects and myself to watch. Cramped, suffocating and just damned plain. It was all set out in a perfect, white manner that clearly tried to set a sense of ideal normality. Once or twice, I had gone almost crazy, destroying anything that resembled normal and had them forcing me into a miniature coma for a small period of time.
I pricked at my drab clothing. Again, this was white. I could not escape from this insane pressure of repetition. I slept in these clothes, woke in these clothes and spent my life in these clothes. Tears trickled down over my cheeks as painful memories of a circular-based lifestyle came back to me.
I sat down hard on my bed, slamming my forehead into my palms. The tears still came, dripping melodically onto the shining white floor. This infuriated me now and I kicked the floor, resulting in a dull boom to reverberate around the room. I leant over to the side table where the sink was and grasped the small glass of sparkling water. The fizz was the only sound now that I could hear apart from the continuous muffled shouts from the air-vents.
I knew that the water now running over my lips and down my throat had been drugged as a tranquilizer to help us sleep, but I really needed the rest. The day had been harsher than most I remember and the Professor had said about tomorrow being special. What did he mean by that? Definitely a new Plasmid. Can't be anything else. Unless they're releasing me.
But before I could think of anything else. I clung on to the thought of freedom and the air that I could breathe and the food I could eat. A dream it'll become. And surely one I'll use till that day came. But, either by the sleeping drug or pure exhaustion, I fell swiftly into a seemingly endless dream of a non-existent happiness.
I woke abruptly in the night (for the first time ever I think) and I swear that in my light escape from reality I could hear the door creaking open and about three gruff voices spoke quietly and rapidly. I could hear their footsteps resounding in the empty hallways. I kept my eyes closed pretending to be asleep and managed to catch some of their conversation.
"Okay. Are you sure this is one, Graham?" asked the first voice.
"I'm sure as shit! Now one of you holds him and the other hold his wrists," replied the one I presumed as Graham.
"Alright, alright. Don't need to get fucking pussy on us!" exclaimed the first voice. A giggle ensued but abruptly halted after a sudden thwack.
Hearing the next voice came as a surprise to me. It was deeper and far more gravellier than the others and held a subliminal demand for respect. "You two shut up! Instead of arguing, just splice the flipping kid and we'll get the heck outta here! The boss said before New Years Eve and we'll get it done before New Years Eve. Now I'll get his body."
I still lay there, silent, praying that it's all a joke. But in the back of my mind I knew I had to do something. After a few awfully muted moments, I felt cold hands wrap around my wrists that were lying beside my head. I immediately sat up, struggling against the intruder. The big one whom I presumed as the one with the deep voice stepped forward and clenched my neck in one hand and covered my mouth with the other. I wouldn't have screamed anyway. Through sharp twists and turns I could spot the door having been closed (I found it strange that I hadn't heard it creak shut). No one will be able to hear anything.
The one who hadn't grappled me stood there, smiling to himself. I knew he was the person who matched the voice of Graham. He held a wicked looking syringe that was in comparison to the normal hypo needles, huge. I could tell he didn't want to waste time by how their conversation represented their boss as a vengeful character. He stepped forward, the tapping of his shoes on the cold floor echoing through the sound of my clothes rustling.
The man who held my hands tight extended my right hand, exposing the wrist. He pulled my hand sharply backwards and it became basically a right angle. Graham lifted the syringe and it pointed precisely down my arm. He pushed it forward, inserting it straight into my veins. It ran down through my arm, pushing all the skin and muscle out of the way as it was practically twice as thick as the normal hypos. Once it almost reached the end of my forearm, he stopped. The trigger was pulled and I then realised the whole syringe was covered in holes as the amber liquid gushed into me. My eyes rolled back in my sockets as the blood abnormally pumped straight from my right arm to the heart, readying to be pumped throughout my entire body.
As the effects wore off, I felt drained of life and sleepy beyond imagination. My captors released me and laid me gently on the bed. Graham slapped me a couple of times casually on the cheek, as if to cheer me up.
"Just wait for tomorrow, boyo. Freedom is near, we swear it. Don't we guys?" Graham said happily. He looked at the other two who grunted in response and were noticeably eager to leave. "We've given you a plasmid boyo. You can't use it anytime, it only happens when your body really needs it. Good luck and Happy New Years."
And with that, they left. Leaving me to only guess at what just happened. What will happen tomorrow?