Hi. You don't know me. I'm new here, and I was hoping maybe you could show me around. You know, offer me a little friendly advice. Do you think you could spare a minute to do that for me?
My name is…you know what? I don't remember what my name is. You wouldn't happen to know it, would you? No, of course you don't. I guess that was a dumb question. It's not really all that important anyways, really.
Getting back to my main point, I'd really like some help if you could spare a minute. See, I don't really understand how all this is supposed to work. Those people led me here and told me to wait, but that was so long ago.
What people? Well, you know. Those people in the clean, white suits. No way you could miss them. I didn't know who they were. All I remember is that they brought me here and told me to wait. So I waited and waited and waited for them to come back. But they never did. I'm not sure how long I've been here, but it's been a long time. I think they've forgotten about me. Maybe you could remind them about me after we finish talking. That would be nice.
So anyways, I've been sitting here for so long, and I've been wondering: what happens after this? I mean, I don't even know what I'm doing here. In fact, I'm not exactly sure where here is. Do you know?
Don't tell anybody else, but between you and me, I'm a little scared. OK, I'm a lot scared. I don't like not knowing what's happening. It makes me nervous. So if you could just tell me what to expect, I'd really appreciate it.
You're not much of a talker, are you? I mean, I've done pretty much all the talking since we started this conversation. Don't be shy about interrupting. I won't be mad. Really. In fact, I'd be happy if you would. I don't like to feel like I'm talking to a brick wall.
Guess you don't feel much like talking. That's OK, too. After all, everyone's always talking about how important it is to be a good listener. That's one skill I never did master. You've probably figured that one out by now, though. I kind of tend to piss people off because I can't make myself shut up. If I'm bugging you, just tell me and I'll try to be quiet.
You know, I don't think I like this room much. No windows. I like to be able to see outside. I like to see the sun and the sky. I feel so smothered in here, not being able to see any of it. It'll be nice to get out of here. I hope they come to get me soon.
They should really hang some posters on the walls or give us some magazines to look at. It's kind of rude of them to leave us in this stupid room without anything to do. Oh, damn. I hope you didn't take that the wrong way. I wasn't saying you're boring or anything. I just meant that this room was too bare. That's all. I'm really sorry if I hurt your feelings.
I guess you're not too upset. You're still listening to me; or at least you're pretending to listen to me. That's fine. I'll be happy either way.
God, I wish I could remember my name. I wish I could tell you a little more about myself, but I don't remember anything. I don't think I could even tell you where I'm from or who my parents are. It's almost as though I never even existed. Like sitting here in this damn room is all I've ever done and all I'll ever do. You don't think that's true, do you?
Of course you don't. Jesus, I can't believe how weird I'm being. Of course I existed before this. I must have come from somewhere for Christ's sake! But where? Oh God, oh God…I just wish I could remember one little thing that I did besides come to this room. Anything would be fine. I don't care how insignificant it is, I just want to remember one thing!
What kind of sheets were on my bed? Where did I go to school? I must have gone to school…I don't think I'm old enough to have graduated yet, and I don't think I'm one of those "child prodigies." Who were my friends? Did I have friends? Or siblings? Pets? Jesus, why can't I remember?
Damn it, I'm starting to panic. Now I can't even remember what color my eyes are. I don't know what my face looks like, and my hair's too short to see what color it is. Or maybe it's just tied back. I don't know. Do you have a mirror that I could borrow for just a second? Please?
No, of course you don't. What was I thinking? Well, could you maybe tell me what color my eyes are? Or my hair? Or try to describe my face. And be honest! If I'm ugly, don't try to say I'm good looking. I won't get mad. Please, just tell me what I look like.
Why won't you talk to me, goddamn it?!? I'm really getting sick of doing all the talking! Please, just look at me and tell me what I look like! I'm begging you! I need to know. Please, please, please say something!
OK, fine. Don't talk to me. I'll just find someone else to talk to. Oh, goddamn it, I forgot. I can't get out of this room until they come back to get me!
Hello? Is anybody out there? Hey! Somebody please come and get me out of here! You can't just leave me in here forever!
Why doesn't anybody answer me? Somebody answer me, goddamn it! Don't leave me in here any longer! I…I can't take this anymore! LET ME OUT, YOU DAMN BASTARDS! WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS?!? LET ME GO!
April 14th. New subject acquired. This first test run was quite revealing. Not twenty-four hours had passed before I deemed the administration of narcotic drugs to be prudent. The patient was unable to restrain panic. I worried that the patient would suffer bodily harm. By the time the staff arrived, the patient was in a rage, throwing self against walls and screaming something horrible. It took four of our men to hold the patient long enough to administer sufficient dosage, as the patient was in such a fit. Patient is now asleep. Next test run to begin tomorrow morning, upon waking.
Author's Notes: I know, I know: I should be working on a new chapter for Starstruck. I will be updating that story soon, I promise. This little bugger wasn't even supposed to be a real story, but now it won't leave me alone until I finish it. So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Confused? Wondering who the heck the "patient" is supposed to be? Feel free to tell me in a review!