Straight jackets are likely more comfortable than being strapped to a table with lights brighter than hell itself beaming down twenty-four-seven.
Moving is impossible with the number of metallic straps holding child ankles and limbs. Furthermore, my mouth had been covered with a metal muzzle. If I were still sickly and asthmatic, I likely would've suffocated and died long before those scientists in sickening white coats arrived to draw blood. Forced to breathe through the nose is odd. How did healthy people do it?
Unless they can't? I wouldn't know, no longer being human and all. Normal humans don't bite chunks out of people for trying to take blood nor have 'Crazy Eyes' as the scientists proclaimed.
Greetings, I muse to myself as the bright lights above don't bother flickering. Diverting attention from the annoying brightness, my reflection in the metallic restraint had become the new interesting norm. Fluffy white hair, pale olive eyes in the color spectrum of gray, and unhealthy pale skin. A little boy strapped and trapped against an uncomfortable table with equally horrible lights burning into retinas. My name is Nagito Komaeda.
A pause recognizes the buzz of silence in bored ears.
Except, I'm not. I wasn't Japanese. I never had pale skin. I'm not ten years old either. Lastly, I was never a boy. Isn't that unlucky of me? Reduced to thinking to myself, time dragged on.
Air is cut as doors slide open. My cage has been unlocked.
There's no reason to bother moving.
"Is that him?" A newbie questions, curiosity dripping off her voice.
"Yes. Number Four-Twenty-Eight." The man nearby confirms.
Actually, I'm Nagito Komaeda. Not that they would hear words if I tried. This muzzle was both heavy and grating on mental health. I now understand why my dog foamed at the mouth when the veterinarian muzzled him. Although you Fricks never listen to me. Human experimentation is just another branch of slavery.
"Such a small child…" She whispers.
Hey. Pity? Hey, that's pity, isn't it? Calm down, me. If you're so sad, could you get this muzzle off me? And maybe these straps? Bubbling excitement dances through the veins as memories cloud into imagination. There are many things I want to do. I'll leave you alone if you do. The woman's eyes seem to soften at my hazy look.
Huh. Huh. Huh. Huh. Huh? If only she came alone.
"Don't. It nearly killed three of my coworkers." Her coworker scoffs, revealing my first day in this strange place. "Simple blood test. It had a tantrum and ripped a chunk of flesh from Ren's neck." He explains, and I'm drifting again.
The taste. The taste from that chunk was savory. It shouldn't have, not really, and I made sure to spit it out when everything registered. The experience had been both terrifying and exhilarating. Tastebuds had relished in quenching thirst. Teeth had chattered shut from shock and interest! Limbs trembled as the desire for more grew within those seconds the other scientists dove for a panic button.
It's all in the past. I wasn't a monster before, but I was now. I was and everyone who came here knew it.
"Why? He looks...I'll admit, he looks a bit strange but this is still a young boy." She protests, and I wonder if this woman had children of her own.
Hello. My eyes lock with hers. A beautiful violet. Lively and wonderful to look at. My name is somehow Nagito Komaeda.
The female scientist does not reply.
"This creature isn't human. You should treat it as such." Cold as his love life, he walks up to my table. It's difficult to see him correctly under these lights. These horrible, horrible, lights. "Normal weapons and needles don't injure it. We have to use chakra infused tools to operate." The information passed so easily...Do they have it somewhere?
"Did we feed…" She pauses, hesitant. "Did we feed it? Otherwise, it'll go into shock fairly quickly."
Her change of pronouns drove a stake of disappointment without my change of expression.
Damn, it's too late for her. If they take the first step to dehumanize me then...Ah, whatever! She'll simply be another name on my hit-list!
"We don't know what it eats. We delivered sandwiches but it only touched the water. The sub was ripped to shreds like a mockery. The possibility remains it only needs water to survive. We're still looking into the situation." The man explains swiftly.
Of course, I wouldn't touch the sandwich. They were trying to feed me poison. It had tasted horrible. Ah...That overwhelming feeling is drowning my thoughts. Hi there. The lady had never looked away. Call me Nagito Komaeda.
"I...I see." She finally glances elsewhere.
"Here. Get the chair and inform the others. Let's get started." The male scientist redirects her out of the room, and I'm left alone with the man. He strolls up to the table with disdain and hints of malice behind onix hues.
The lights are bright. I am uncomfortable, and the noise of another introduction is proven improper. The muzzle is the issue. His hand is placed on my forehead, warm.
"Today, we finally cut you open." He announces, and I stare, stare, stare at him. "Monster." The man spits calmly.
Monster, huh? Honestly, it stings but...Better than the derogatory slurs I've experienced in my old life. Most on skin color, others on gender.
The door slides open once more, and I shut eyes away to the lights and scientists walking into the room.
Quiet chatter reaches my ears. These people are talking about their day and what they want to do outside of work. Some are talking of coffee and others speak of their families. Someone jokes about their kid back home, and how they've just learned how to play the piano.
I dismiss them all as pointless voices, focused on the one man's "pleasant" atmosphere.
A deep inhale through the nose dictates a banked fate.
These sensitive organs detect the smell of tea. The smell of soap. A smell of paint. The scent of blood.
An old wound not quite decorated as tightly as it should be.
My formerly weak arm breaks free with renewed desperate strength. Several gasps echo in muffled ears. There's no point in hearing their surprise. A blur later and I'm in the air, muzzle ripped off along with a portion of my lower jaw. My lower face hurts but there are pressing more matters at large. The lights are shattered as I throw the metal piece upwards in my brief flight. Glass begins to rain as the room flickers into a dimmer setting.
Multiple eyes are wide as I smell terror underneath the faint smell of wondrous lifeblood. Gravity pulls me down to destiny.
I have no pity for enslavers.
I am Nagito Komaeda. The first victim is the man who hated my existence. Fingers plunge into his eyes with a satisfying slosh. The room erupts in screams as I allow the scent of a new injury to overtake budding senses into madness. I've been holding this feeling under wraps for several weeks. For the first time, I gave in and finally let loose.
And I'm starving.