My waist-length golden blonde hair billowed in the breeze the windowless van's fan was making. It was such a fake breeze and it dipressed me far more than I had even been in any of my lives. My blue eyes twinkled sadly as I thought of how dark it was outside and apparently it was suppose to be daytime. The sky was full of nothing but threatening green-ish dark-grey so dark they were almost pitch-black clouds and they were said to be filled with acids.
I was told the Earth I had onced lived on before was dying and that the only reason I was brought back to life was to give Mitchel hope. I felt so used and so dead on the inside. I wanted to be dead still, that was for sure.
It must have been days before we reached whatever destination we were driving to in the electric van and once we got there we had to sit there for hours. I supposed it was raining acid outside and the van was much safer than going out, I had not heard ran in so long the sound of it was barely familiar to me. I had taken that time to try and remember myself.
I was five foot four inches and weighed maybe one hundred and fourteen pounds. I supposed I was still twenty six--the age I was when I died. My finger nails were not very long, but they annoyed me to no end, so I ignored them and tried to think deeper into my own description. For some reason, my memory was fuzzy and I knew I had to get back what I could of myself.
In thought deeply for a time, then remembered a few more things. I was sort of famous in life before, but I was not snobby or cruel. And I always wore my usual outfit, the white long sleeve shirt--sometimes short sleeve depending on the season--white trench coat with a perposal cut up the back that was sewn in perfectly to slightly resemble an upside-down 'V,' tan jeans, plain white socks, and plain white tennis shoes. I realized that that was what I wearing suddenly, expect it was the short-sleeve shirt and not the long-sleeve.
I wondered why I was famous for moments and moments on end, finally I gave up and began to sing quietly to myself for a bit. It was a mysterious song, for I didn't remember who it was by, where it was from, or who had sung it before me:
"I got a lot to say to you. Yeah, I got a lot to say. I notice your eyes are always glued to me, keeping them here and it makes no sence at all. They taped over your mouth; scribbled out the trueth with their lies, your little spies. They taped over your mouth; scribbled out the trueth with their lies, your little spies.
Crushcrushcrush!
One, two, three, four!
Nothing compares to: the quiet ending alone! Just the want to: of us who's counting on! That never happens. I guess I'm dreaming again! Let's be more than. . . this,"
My singing had been interupted by the hault of rain and the soon openning of the van door that held me inside the depressing transportation with no windows. "Come on, Shy," Mitchel told me. "I told you about ReBirth, remember?" I glared at him silently, my usual happy and kind nature leaving me due to being used. He gave me a sad look. "Well, we're here," He finished, then had some of the scientists that work there grab me and firce me to come inside 'ReBirth' with them.
It was lit up just like the room I was brought back onto Earth with, but there was so many doors! The whole place was made of stone with the exception of doors and other random equipments that I could not fully describe to you. Each door had this oval shaped crease at the bottom of itself, it had a latch that must have been used to lift the crease like another door for a very small person or animal--not that a rabbit could fit through the door, maybe a small rat or an average mouse could though.
After a long while of walking in suspention, curiousity, and fear, I was pulled to a stop in front of a door looked like all the other doors, but there was a number on it ingraved inside the metal--777.
I was pushed inside the room only to have my arms let go of and the door slammed behind me. The room wasn't very big, it was maybe the size of a stall used to hold a pregnant cow or a cow with calf. It was plain and boring, but it had one very important factor--a metal toilet. Next to the toilet was an old metal sink, to the side of that sink was a white mat that I could lay on as a bed with two sides pressed againts a wall of it's own to make a cornered fit.
To the left of the room was another mat, but it was not fit into a corner and the wall was just boring. The the right, though, was a mat pressed up against some sort of vent-like thing. I went over to that mat and examined it. "What is this vent doing here?" I asked no one, not that I expected an answer.
"I have no idea," Came a soft manly reply from the other side.
"Who's there?! Who are you?!" I asked in alert.
"Don't be afraid of me," The voice said. "I am but a neighbor to your cell," I blinked in confusion. "Around here that call me Ex-67--'E' and 'X' not just 'X'--but it would be nice to hear someone call me by my real name, if you don't mind?"
"Of course not," I replied, while calmly noting to myself that the stranger might be able to be trusted.
"You may call me 'Mahado,'"