Marching, tests, indoctrination. Shots, running until he was so exhausted he simply collapsed with burning lungs. Whitecoats and the screams of other experiments.
I shoot into a sitting position, my shaggy dark hair matted to my head with sweat. I hate these dreams, but they come to me every night. Little bits of the hell I endured for the first ten years of my life. I sigh and get up, heading for the shower. My room-mate Kyle isn't up yet, he was out late last night. Probably partying again, I'll make him some coffee. Like always. It's a routine, and almost normal like that I relish the chance to live even as I'm haunted by my very not normal childhood. An icy shower pulls me out of my self pity and I make it quick, cold showers really aren't fun. But it's all we have, in fact we're lucky to have running water in this bombed out building we stay in; some people don't.
A couple hours later Kyle wanders into the kitchen-slash-living room we managed to put together. It also holds my bikes, the old-fashioned pedal one for work and the motorcycle that is my pride and joy for fun.
"Life sucks." He comments from his place collapsed on the sagging old couch we scavenged from a nearby junk yard.
"Yeah?" I reply, raising one dark brow.
"Yeah. I get home at like 3 in the morning and you're still out. Then I wake up feeling like I just got pounded by the Hulk and you've been up for an hour already." He said and I quirked a small smile while I was turned away from. The guy was hilarious and didn't mid the fact that I didn't talk much, not to mention not smiling or anything else remotely usual for a human being.
"I made you coffee." I reminded him, pouring myself my own cup of the stuff.
"True enough man and I think it's startin' to work. I feel almost human." He replied, taking a gulp of his. I snorted quietly as I walked back to my room to finish getting ready.
Me too buddy, me too.