h e l p m e
lyrics copyright :
Mudvayne; "Forget to Remember"
.. what have i done? where have i come from?
when i burnt the backs with the sun through a glass, did i seal the loss that's become me?
feeling undone, what have i become?
when i turned my back on you, i turned my back on myself and became this machine
thoughtlessness, selfishness, hopelessness, arrogant
Subject #13170 Nikita Volchejnov
What were they doing to him? The lab men gripped Nikita's thin arms, their hands easily wrapping about them, dragging him down a corridor he'd never cared to notice before. Maybe no one else, none of the other "patients," the other prisoners, had noticed it, either? He felt sick, suddenly, worried. He knew what they wanted, yes, but feared the possible methods of retrieving the data. Even in his frantic mind, Nikita felt he simply couldn't imagine how one could retrieve information on the "paranormal," as the officers and lab technicians so lightly put it.
They soon arrived at their obvious destination. Nikita dared venture a question. The doors were ominous, and reminded him of something, suddenly. Or maybe he wasn't reminded, per se, but something else. Clairvoyance, they had called it? Nikita quickly shook it off, suddenly wondering what the almighty Soviet Union was doing with programs already made for this type of situation. Had you asked anyone else, it would have been a poor excuse to spend valuable funds, but not to Russia. Not even to Nikita, anymore. The door soon opened.
"Come on, Nikita."
He tried to remember why they were calling him that. Wasn't his name something else before? Once upon a time, he was called Andre, wasn't that right? Andre Ivanovich Smirnov. But not anymore. He wanted to stop all that, and was handed a new life, a life he would have gladly chosen his former over.
"Now this won't hurt, you'll fall right to sleep."
Nikita tensed. He'd spent over a year at the facility, and the look in the men's eyes at the lust for the opportunity to finally test the boy was absolutely terrifying. Their intentions were painful to think about, and Nikita shied from any knowlege of it. But if they were to sedate him, the better off he'd be, yes? There would be no experiencing of pain. Of course, that didn't seem logical, somehow, not that any of this whole mess made much sense to Nikita. Would they not need him awake? Surely, if they were studying more active brainwaves, Nikita knew that much, that he'd need to be awake. Experiencing everything they could possibly throw at him, of course, because that's all he had ever gotten out of life.
The silver needle went fast into his flesh; he winced. Almost imediately, his eyes began to advert, and he stumbled, his legs beginning to shake and weaken. The fear of the men's intentions kept him fighting off the anesthetic. To everyone's surprise, even Nikita's, he succeeded.
"Record that." he heard one man say, his voice seeming to echo in his weakened awareness. "I want another dosage. He can fight it."
The man leaned to Nikita's ear, whispering to him in an almost friendly voice. This man, however, was no friend.
"Good job, boy. You're doing well, already."
Nikita couldn't find it in himself to care.
The second syringe arrived, and was slid carefully into the boy's flesh in the same area. This one caused him no pain, and Nikita was soon limp in the guards's arms, yet still slightly aware of his surroundings, if only for a moment. Just as his hearing faded after his vision, he could hear the men speaking, also feeling them remove his shirt.
"Prepare him for the surgery. Make it quick; we can't be sure how long we have with this one."
Only surgery? Perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible, then...
i feel it on the inside, twisting and contorting
memory has shaped me once again
still feel you on the inside, biting through and stinging
will i ever forget to remember?
He was wrong.
Nikita awoke to a vicious pain in the back of his head where, in the midst of his raven hair, they had installed some sort of obscure device, a huge metal thing attached to his head via some sort of hook and tubes entering his brainstem on a lower limb of the device. The upper portion could have only been used for god-knows-what. To collect something; "Psychic energy," like they'd always been talking about? Nikita could have laughed if it didn't hurt so badly.
Various tubes were inserted into his lower back and arms, as well. Small rope-like extentions of cloth bound his hands, which then attached to chains that spred across the width of the grey, stone room. Or would, anyway, for they were wound in cranks at either side, and would soon pull him tight, holding him in what looked like a rather painful position. The entire atmosphere didn't seem right, an ominous malice hanging in the air.
For the first time in a long while, Nikita spoke, and out of fear.
"What are you going to do to me?"
The main scientist paused a moment, busy typing something into the large, unorthodox machine behind Nikita, where all the tubes ran to.
"We're going to run some tests. Okay? We'll begin in just a moment."
Nikita shuddered. Another man approached with an odd oxygen mask with a tube running to another machine opposite the first. He pulled it over the boy's thin, emaciated face, the scars of the fire adorning it, disfiguring it. The man seemed relieved the black mask hid most of his features. Tears fell from Nikita's eyes in terror as the cranks pulled the chains tight, stretching his arms out from his sides. He tried to turn to the main scientist, searching for some sort of comfort that would let him know that all was well and that it wouldn't be so bad. However, all of this was in vain, and he could barely even turn from the pain of the machine and tubes forced inside his head. There was no comfort, just as there had been in the village.
Somehow, the aspect of Ivan's abusive hand didn't seem so terrible anymore, not compared to this. At least then, there was the promise of death. What did it matter anymore? He missed his chance, because he fought back. He never wanted death then, no! He feared it, then. But now he understood that suffering like this was far worse than any end Ivan had so vigorously offered him.
But that didn't matter. Dwelling in the past would get him nowhere. What was done was done, and there was no going back. There was only now, and now held pain.
"Okay, Nikita, we're ready to begin."
"What are you going to do?" his voice was muffled by the mask, giving it a distorted sound.
The man still heard him. "We're going to send some shocks into your body." he paused, and Nikita suddenly wondered what that had to do with the "psychic energy" they spoke of. What were they trying to do? Hurt him until they got their answers, their data, they're whatever-they-were-looking-for?
"But it will hurt, my friend, so be strong." the man continued.
Obviously. It already did.
Nikita closed his eyes, tensing his body as the man began to count down. 3... 2... 1...
"Ready, Nikita."
It was no question. He was not kindly asking him if he was prepared for the procedure.
Nikita felt dizzy, trying to get his mind off reality, just as he had during the fire, to forget that it would hurt, to simply not be aware of the pain. All was in vain.
shadows in the sun filter through us
still wrestle with the demons that arrested me as a child
confession rejected, we grow up to give up
people step on the cracks for wounds owed paid back
through the words of surrender
emptiness, loneliness, listlessness, worthless
The first wave of electricity hit him at a voltage that would have killed a normal child of his age. It was a pain like he'd never felt before; far worse than the inferno he, himself, had created. He cried out, his whole body going stiff and upright as he sat on his knees. He was unable to move, to do anything but convulse. After it was over, he fell back, his shoulders nearly pulled out of place as he was kept still by the chains.
Behind him, the scientist grew angry. He wasn't producing results beyond that of resisting the high voltage.
"Let's have another go, shall we?"
Nikita couldn't hear him over the unusual ringing in his ears, of what sounded like several voices made high-pitched. An overwhelming headache seemed to tear him in two.
The machine made a beeping noise that pleased the scientist, suddenly.
"Good boy."
Still, Nikita could not hear him.
Another shockwave racked his body with an unimaginable pain. As it ended, Nikita barely made out another beeping noise as he collapsed on the chains.
"More this time, boy, try harder."
Somehow, he understood the scientist, this time. Not by hearing him, though, but in another fashion, somehow. He felt what the man wanted, and specifically him.
Focus on yourself, now, boy, do you want to hurt me?
What was he talking about? Nikita didn't want to focus back on his own body, for he found it less painful to experience the man's physical feelings, for it was not him who was being shocked.
"Nikita! Listen to me!"
He could feel what the man felt, but the scientist was blissfully unaware of the pain Nikita was experiencing. It somehow didn't seem quite fair. Perhaps he should.
However, the man was far more experienced in the ways of the "paranormal," as he put it, than Nikita. He pressed a button, turning a knob, on the machine. A disgusting greenish liquid sped up a thick tube fastened in his brainstem. Nikita suddenly wondered how this wasn't killing him, just as the liquid entered his body. The effect was an unusual numbness, almost like a high of some sort, that Nikita preferred over the pain of the "experiment." For a moment, he was dazed, his body almost completely limp on the chains. His focus turned off the man completely, settling on nothing in paticular.
"Alright, good. Let's continue."
Nikita cried out as another jolt ripped into his mind and body, worse now than ever before. His ears began to bleed as tiny droplets of blood mixed into his tears as well, and, within the confines of the mask, blood leaked from his nose and the corners of his mouth. The pressure welled inside, escaping only as blood, begging to be set free. Instead, Nikita fought with every fibre of his being to keep it controlled. He didn't want another inferno, didn't desire to see the flames for once in his life. No, they were far too enticing, and he would, for no reason, let it happen again, no matter how much he detested the facility and its workers.
Let it all loose, boy.
Nikita refused.
Do it, boy. Release it.
No.
Do it now.
Still, Nikita resisted, if only just to prove he could, to prove he could stop himself and not cause another inferno.
You are brave, Nikita.
The electricity, or whatever they were sending into him, he wasn't sure anymore, ceased. All else stopped with it, along with Nikita's consiousness. Behind him, the man sighed, shutting down the machine and starting to the unconsious boy. Kneeling beside him, he removed the device and tubes from him. Stroking the boy's unkempt black hair, now a mess and singed from the experience, he spoke in a whisper to him.
"You are stronge, Nikita. Show me that you are."
Leaning in closer, he finished. "I know what you did. I want you to do it again. Show me all you can do."
Nikita felt every word of it, even in his current state.
Can you do that?
Nikita hesitated.
I can't..
Why not?
There was no more as Nikita slipped into total darkness.
i feel it on the inside, twisting and contorting
memory has shaped me once again
still feel you on the inside, biting through and stinging
will i ever forget to remember?
can you save me from myself, from these memories?
can you save me from myself, from these memories?
surrender to the shadows haunting inside
bleed through you, surrender to the secrets inside; lies within you
Nikita awoke to darkness, just as he would in Ivan's cellar. After so long, the darkness had become his only ally, his only companion beyond himself. They seemed to be one in even more ways with this new awareness he possessed. Staring into the blackness, he wanted more than anything to simply escape into it, away from the pain his very existance brought.
Breathing out slowly, he shut his eyes, wanting to truly slip into the eternal darkness that was his own death.
But there was light; the light that symbolized all that he detested, that beat down mockingly on his horrid form, pushing him to live another day. Death would not come soon enough. The man that had turned the light on stepped inside, his face, like an angel's compared to Nikita's, mocked him as well as he smiled down on him.
"Good day, Nikita."
Nikita grew angry. No, it was not a good day. It never was.
"And a miserable one to you.." he muttered under his shallow breath.
"Excuse me?" he stepped closer to Nikita. "Did you say something?"
Nikita shook his head.
"Good, then." the man said in an almost joyous tone.
Why was he this way? Why should he be this way? Why should anyone?
"Are you ready now?"
Ready? For them to plug him to a machine like some sordid plaything while they further distroyed him? They had saved him, treated him, from the leukemia, from the schizophrenia, the epilepsy, everthing, and gave him a new life full of greater pain than his list of ailments could only dream of giving him.
Did he deserve it all? Did he really? Was what Ivan always knew as the truth really that? The horrid reality that Andre, no Nikita, was condemned even before his first breath? He never meant to kill her.. It wasn't his fault..
"Nikita?"
He attempted to stand, to face his punishment for a crime he never meant to commit. Of course, whether he killed Lidiya or not, it did not matter. He killed Ivan, he killed Kasimir, he killed everyone else, and was to face the consequences. He allowed it to happen without a struggle. It simply wasn't worth it; it was inevitable. He deserved his fate more and more with every guilt-ridden breath he took.
The point was made. It was time to take his punishment.
He barely pressed himself up from the crude bed on his cell floor. The man came to assist him, taking him by the arm and virtually dragging him from the bed, leading him away.
can you save me from myself, from these memories?
can you save me from myself, from these memories?
surrender to the shadows haunting inside
bleed through you, surrender to the secrets inside
lies within you
They arrived at the test room again, the large, grey doors appearing ominous. Nikita, however, was ready to face the interior. The man paused at the entrance.
"Come on, let's go." Nikita urged, frustrated at the stall, yet slightly relieved, nonetheless.
The man looked down to him, confused. "What, 'you some sort of masochist, boy?"
"No.." Nikita trailed off as the lead scientist openned the doors.
He smiled, which furthered Nikita's anger. "It's good to see you again."
Nikita didn't even wish he could say the same.
"Are we ready to get started?"
It was a very one-way question. There was no saying "No, thank you," this was an involuntary excursion to Hell, if Nikita ever knew one. He lived it, in fact.
He was quickly brought in, the men screwing in the tubes and the large, alien-like devices into the specific areas of his body. There was pain, once more, and Nikita winced as he heard the machine rev up from behind him.
Had the village really been his fault, too? He feared Ivan, and had rebelled in a way a child of his ill stature never could have, and, had it not been for his-- "disposition," Ivan would have assuredly carried out his plans. Somehow, he just knew none of them, not Lana, not Kasimir, and most certainly not Ivan, would have cared for his death in any negative way. One less person to have wasted the precious food they had. He sighed, mentally. It was more of his fault than Lidiya could ever have been.
The first of his "stripes" was lashed, the pain jolting throughout his body.
Are you sad? Don't you know you could have done better?
Nikita didn't care anymore what anyone had to say. He had failed. He is failing. He would fail. If this didn't kill him, he would feel no pride in overcoming such a strife, no. Only more pain, more guilt, more hate and anger. He would bear nothing to show for his pain but "blood, sweat, and tears." And scars; scars that told a story of pain and hate and failure.
There could have been more jolts sent through him, he didn't know. For one last time in his life, he cried, ignoring the physical pain as he slowly slipped into an almost catatonic state. Bloodied tears streaked down his marred face, the last he would ever shed. One tear for his mother. One for Ivan. One for Kasimir. One for Lana. One for Lana's unborn child. Hundreds more for each and every mind he'd experienced the death of that night as he watched in wonder as the flames consumed not only them, but himself as well. Then, they stopped. He had nothing left to mourn, and felt the pain of the machine's blasts, waiting for the one that would end it all.
It never came.
i feel it on the inside, twisting and contorting
memory has shaped me once again
still feel you on the inside, biting through and stinging
will i ever forget to remember?
can't feel you on the inside, set the bag down and left it
lost memory has left me once again
open up the inside; admission for the cleansing
now that i've forgotten to remember
surrender to the shadows hauting inside; bleed through you ..
author's note: Yet still unfinished, I have changed the song. Yes, for some odd reason, I'm addicted to songfics.. yay.. Anyhow, keep checking back (assuming anyone does in the first place) to see updates for the story of our poor little Nikita. I'll write one on the village fire and Ivan's death soon. I'm planning on starting tonight (Saturday), anyway. Thanks to anyone who even reads this for actually paying attention.. >>..Rozzi