I never knew that that day was going to be the last day that I get to speak to them.
I'm sorry...
What I've Done
Three Years Later
Max POV
"Wakey wakey birdie," sneered an Eraser at my cell (yes, they were humane enough to give me a cell) door. I ignored him, but sat up. It's been three years, three years since I sacrificed myself to the school for the Flock.
My cell door opened, and two burly Erasers stomped in. I ignored them, just like how I ignored everyone and everything in this place. They hauled me to my feet, and dragged me to a lab, and chained me up to the metal gurney. As usual.
Then, the needles lowered onto my skin, and I squirmed. As per usual. This time, as the chemicals flowed into my bloodstream, they burned through me. I screamed in pain, my voice sounding raw after years of disuse.
I had vowed never to talk after I was taken. No matter what they asked, I never replied, verbally that is. I only nodded or shook my head. The occasional sneer and glare is still there, just, well, occasional.
I never smiled, or cried, as that was the biggest door to my emotions. Once I show emotions, they will take it to their advantage.
The pain burned up my veins, and coursed through my whole body. But soon, the pain disappeared, and my screams reduced. Then, the White-Coats injected another chemical into my body. Again, my body burned, and I screamed. However, this time, the pain was worse. There was nothing I could do, chained down, as the chemical coursed through my body. This time, it burned continuously, until I passed out.
