The men threw their prisoner into his cell. He was still bound to the straitjacket. The cell they gave him stunk of an almost indescribable odor. He brought himself to sit up, his body aching from the ferocity of their actions. He heard screams of terror and pain echoing around him. Something about that, something horrible brought the distraught youth to smile. He didn't know why he had, for it was a horrible ordeal to be in pain.
He began to mull over the past events. He wondered what exactly he had done. Then the truth, it hit him hard. He had done something horrendously wrong to end up there. He must have attacked his parents. Shock spread on the silver haired boys face, then eventually sadness. He cried again, for the second time during his venture to his horrible prison.
He cried himself to sleep, missing the embrace of his parents, the soft song from his mother at night, and most of all, his clean, soft bed.
He awoke to more of the screams and painful cries for mercy from other prisoners. He arose doggedly, the straitjacket still binding his arms to his torso. He moaned slightly, the vicious visions he had before his almost deadly assault on his parents playing before his eyes. He looked around him, noting the horrid smell of the area, coming to a solid affirmation that he was still in the prison like environment. He then saw the horrid visions reappear in his mind's eye, stronger than when he awoke.
He shook his head vigorously to shake the terrible scenes that only he could see. He had no such luck. The visions got even stronger, accompanied by a maniacal feeling of menace. To his horror, he found he enjoyed this overly destructive feeling. A grin spread across his juvenile face. A sick, twisted grin.
He ran at the bars in a frenzy, his head smashing against one. He fell back, head bloodied from the useless assault on his cage. He brought his head up, feeling the pain in his head well up. He grimaced slightly, feeling a warm substance trickle down his forehead, eventually running down his cheeks and dripping onto his white straitjacket. He saw blood. He was shocked at the feeling the internal substance that ran through his veins dripping continuously down his face. "Why did I do that…," he wondered. Then he realized it was what brought him back to reality. He felt his stomach knot up in nausea at the thought of this self-destructive remedy.
Two dark figures approached his cell. They weren't facing him. One had a dark and angry voice, that of an angry beast; the other sounded- and looked- a little more human. "I want to run some tests on my subject before I release him in your care," the human like figure said. He heard the beast, if it was a beast- could beasts talk? - reply, "When you do, try to find the source of his madness. We don't want him turning into an evil human." He thought he saw the creature's eyes when it turned a little. They were red and circular- almost points of light.
The child shivered in fear at this sight. He noticed how oddly the figure was shaped, almost like a phantom with a cartoonish body. He wondered what kind of monstrosity this phantom was. His hysteria piqued again, and he used the remedy of pain by cutting into his skin with his own teeth. He hissed in pain as the insanity vanished.
The phantom bid the human goodbye as they parted separate ways. The child wondered how it was so that a creature like that could exist. Then he thought that maybe it wasn't a phantom- but a demon cloaked in black. His young eyes narrowed at this. Demons are bad, the kid thought. They take control of you or take your soul.
He sighed to himself. He had nothing to do. He was left to his own imagination. He thought of his parents, his friends- not that he had any-, and his wrong doings. He thought of his favorite hobbies, how they included pulling things apart and looking inside them to see how they worked. What made them tick, he often wondered. What was their means for moving, working, lighting up, making sound, he thought even more so. His mind wandered on until it couldn't wander anymore- his head hurt.
The child sighed and soon sat in a dazed state, staring into oblivion. A figure approached- it wasn't the demon. Then again, demons could change form. He struggled against his straitjacket and tried to squirm into a corner. He found he was shaking with fear. He sensed something. This person would more than likely bring harm to him.
The figure spoke. "You are now to be tested for your mental instability. You must come without struggle or we will have to use force." The child's eyes widened with fear. Mental instability? Was he sick in his sense of mind? He had heard of his parents talking about estranged relatives being sent away to crazy houses for being "sick". He wondered if he'd meet any of his relatives here, and how harsh a treatment they'd received.
The man opened the door and pulled the child up by the shoulders, set him on his feet and guided him away from the horrible cell. "What...," the child gulped. "Will the test be like?" He looked up at the figure, fear still etched in his face. The man made no response. He took it that the test was nothing to enjoy.
They guided the child to a room with a tub filled with water. Was this the test, he questioned himself. It didn't look so bad. To his relief, another 'doctor' removed the straitjacket. They put the child in the tub, his clothing still on. They stuck something with wires in it on his head and arms. A switch clicked. He felt immense pain course through his system. He screamed in pain. He felt his mind naturally switch to the longing for his mother.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face as the electricity coursed through him. His fingers twitched in response to the stimulus and his legs moved in an erratic frenzy within the confines of the straps they had placed on him. He continued to scream until his throat was sore, and then his mouth simply hung open, hoarse breathing replacing the screech. The men turned the device off, not that he could tell. His mind was completely shut out to his surroundings. His brain refused to work for a time. He was comatose.
He awoke in a bed, strapped down. He saw the ceiling. It was a blank space that seemed to have no flaw. He looked to the side and saw a man that looked fairly young writing something down on his clipboard. "What's your name," the man replied tersely. The kid thought back. He wondered if he remembered anything before he was put into that torture device. He remembered his name. Henry Williams.
He mulled over the name. It was rather unfitting for his current stature. Then a better name came to mind. It was of the book that sat on a dusty shelf in the living area of his former home. "Frankenstein" it read. He had read various notes, shortened and simplified for kids his age on the book. A monster brought to life by a scientist- who, like him, hungered to discover. He smirked at the irony of the book and his destructive tendency. He felt as if he was both the monster and the poor scientist in the book- with how he was being treated.
"Franken Stein," replied Henry. "My name is now and forever will be Franken Stein." The man looked up at him in disbelief. "'Franken Stein'? You can't simply-" The man paused, seeming to remember something. The man shook his head, sighing. "'Franken' it is then... What an odd name." He looked back to his clip board and jotted something down. "So, Franken-" The man was shortly interrupted. "Please, could you call me 'Stein' instead," Franken requested. The young man looked up crossly, not liking the idea of a kid toying around with him. "Yes...," he responded rather roughly. The kid simply smirked at the man.
"So, Stein, why did you attack your parents? Were you angry at them," the young man asked. Stein shook his head, frowning at the memory. "I was... curious about something..." The young man cocked his head, his short brown hair shifting with it. "What exactly were you curious about, Stein?" A grimace graced the boy's features. He fought his fear down at the hysteria that had torn him from his loving family. "I think... something to do with the body... How it worked...," he flexed his fingers at the thought of what probably was the basis of his insanity.
The young man raised an eyebrow. "Why did you do that? Did you hate your parents? Were they cruel to you? Did you blame them for being picked on? Were you punished without any real reason..." The questions seemed to go on and on to the child. Eventually he snapped ferociously at his inquirer. "No! I was simply curious! I wasn't ever picked on! I was just curious! There is nothing wrong with me!" He glared at the man, irritable at all the seemingly pointless questions the man was asking. "I am perfectly fine!"
The man simply stared on in shock, then came to resolve. He jotted down a couple of more things on his clipboard. "I'll finish with you later," he assured as he rose from his seat. Stein only glared up at the man as he left. He saw him walk outside of the hospital like room. The young boy noticed the window to the outside of his room to the rest of the fortress he had been thrown into. The 'demon' had returned.
The 'demon' was talking to the young man, possibly about what he had written on his clipboard. The child shivered in fear. The man he was talking to was in cahoots with the 'demon'. He saw him jab his thumb at the window as he spoke to the 'demon'. He saw it nod at the man, then supposedly squirm off- as if it were a worm, and the top part he saw being the head.
Stein decided to lie back onto the pillow of the hospital bed. At least he had a bed. He began to dose off, finally feeling comfort in the strange place.
When he awoke, he heard a weird and slightly unnatural voice beside him. He looked to the right, the direction it came from, and noticed the face of the 'demon'. He gasped in shock and began to struggle against the restraints. "Hey, hey… Easy. I don't bite, Stein," the 'demon' reassured in an almost unreal voice.
Stein simply glared at it. He didn't buy its words. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lord Death. I'm the grim reaper." The kid's eyes widened at the word "reaper". He was going to die? He glowered at Lord Death. He wasn't going to die there, then, not in that horrible place. Lord Death looked on at him, his head tilting slightly to the right. "Now, now… What's that scowl for," he questioned the kid's glare of resentment.
"I'm not going to die here today," the child declared angrily. The cloaked creature tilted his head in the other direction at the child's adamant attitude. "Why would you die? I'm not here to collect your soul. I'm here to explain what will probably happen regarding your stay here." Stein's face fell into disbelief. He shot back at the death god, "Why do you work with them?" He saw the creature shift and whip out of his coat a giant foam hand- one that resembled those that one would purchase at a ball game.
"Technically, I don't. I just came to check up on Death City's asylum. It's really gone downhill. I'll be closing it down and sending the kids off to a better institution without…" He paused, thinking of his next words. "'Special abilities'," he said, placing his foam hand next to his odd mask, which, to Stein's surprise, had changed shape for the occasion- the eye holes narrowed- to show his secrecy. The death god shrugged and he continued, "That also has something to do with you. But that's beside the point. You'll be undergoing more tests, then released into the care of the Academy's orphanage."
The child raised an eyebrow. "'Academy'? School," he queried. Lord Death nodded. "After a few years there, you'll get the chance to live on your own." Stein shifted uncomfortably. He also had heard "more tests". He shivered in fear, wriggling uncomfortably under his restraints. "N-not more of those-," he began. The reaper silenced him by quietly interjecting, "No, no… not that again…. You will be tested in a much more, how should I say, humane way. You'll get questions."
Stein looked down at the sheets. "What kind," he muttered. The robed figure tilted his head once more, making a slight noise to indicate he was thinking. "Well, it's going to be about your life before the incident that landed you here," the squeaky voiced grim reaper claimed. The child heaved a sigh. What else was in store?