A.N.
So apparently I'm dippy. Deadly Nightshade1395 is Mello, I'm Matt.
Disclaimer: No ownage and stuff.
Reviews! Leave them!
Matt
"Take fifty seven to the room." The man said, turning his head to the stout figure in the doorway. Oh God the room. Fortunately not for me, for some unlucky soul kept like a feral animal in the cages below the rugged hardwood floor I was sat on. The room was thick with cigar smoke, the rancid smell curling in my nose while the fireplace crackled merrily.
Fifty seven. Numbered. Take away the humanity of a name and what are you left with? A meat bag. Hapless children and adults alike, homeless. Who would miss them? Honestly. No census is ever taken for beggars because no one gives a fuck. Most would be glad of freshly uncluttered streets, no one likes looking at a smelly hobo with a small can begging for a few coppers for food. So when they suddenly up and disappear? No one will question where dreadlocked seagull guy has gone.
The lucky ones in that room got anaesthesia, I was one of them. The 'unique' colour of my hair and eyes kept the boss man's attention. I was favoured. It didn't stop him putting the needles through my lips, keeping the thread sewn tight, but it was enough to keep me alive. Enough to allow me to a good meal every day (Albeit mostly soup which I could suck through a straw) and a warm bed with no hassle. As long as I was good and attentive.
It wasn't long until the screaming started. Poor fifty seven. I would hate to be him or her. I pulled my knees up to my chest and covered my hands over my ears tightly, watching Boss man swill his brandy in his glass and take a sip. He smacked his lips together in appreciation for the bottle of Klipdrift he had poured over ice.
The screaming slowed died to a stop and a man in a bloody white coat rushed in.
"It's implemented. And he's stable so far. I think he may even live." The bloody man breathed, a droplet of sweat rolling down his forehead.
"Good. Keep him healthy, keep the stitches clean. If this works…" Boss man trailed off, a small smirk on his lips.
"I know. So far he hasn't rejected it and he's accepting the medicine without too much trouble. We might really be onto something here." The bloodied man said.
I kept my head down, pretending not to listen. It wasn't the first day Blood man had come in. He usually had far grimmer news. The most recent being that thirty two escaped, sticky congealed blood splattered along the hallway and walls which of course, I was expected to clean.
Blood man flicked his eyes over to me, mouthing something to Boss man which I couldn't see, not allowed to see. Boss man stood up suddenly, running his fat sausage fingers through my hair. "Good night pet." He murmured, putting the empty brandy glass on the small wooden table, turning the light off and striding out the door, locking it behind him.
Like I was stupid enough to run, what did he take me for? I knew the rosta and weapon count better than anyone in the damn place but even then I wouldn't risk it. I would get shot instantly.
Instead I wriggled over to the laptop Boss man left next to the plush leather chair, opening it up.
A help message might not get much attention. But I knew where I was.
I knew exactly where I was.
I typed out a quick message on the first forum board I could find, wiping the memory of any trace of my usage carefully putting the laptop back into place.
I curled up in front of the still warm fire, trying to get comfy on the rug before drifting off into a fitful sleep. God I could only hope someone found that message.