Post by Caroline on Jun 28, 2011 13:00:46 GMT -5
I felt it again, that spine-snapping pressure that crushed my back. My cheek pressed against a cool metallic surface, a weak moan escaped my lungs. The pain was unbearable, I couldn't move, and I knew well if I tried I would be drugged again.
My glazed eyes strained to focus on my surroundings, darting in every direction. I quickly realized I knew this place all too well. The mint walls, the blinding overhead lights, a lingering sickly sterile odor... I lay motionless, staring absently at the nine-digit code inked into my wrist, distant voices discussed my future across the room.
"We can't not continue... after all our work!" a young male protested. "I know this project meant so much to you, but can't carry on with the procedure... if I knick one of those cords... it will be permanently paralyzed anyway. It's beyond my capabilities." another, older male argued. "But Doctor... I think we should at least try to--"
I closed my eyes, greatfully slipping back into unconsciousness where I began processing my last passing thoughts. I had nothing left in the world to hold on to. Every strand of who I once was was long destroyed. I was empty with nothing to lose, and could only pray for them to let me go. There was nothing they could do to scare me anymore. "It". I was an "it", not a living being. That's the way it would always be. I was raised under the belief I was special, that my gift made me special. But I was never special, I was always defected.
My defects separated me from those of my own kind, and now they were finally going to dispose of me. But none of it mattered anymore, because shortly I would be no more. No more defected, no more sick, no more project, no more "it", no more number, no more pain, no more life.
My glazed eyes strained to focus on my surroundings, darting in every direction. I quickly realized I knew this place all too well. The mint walls, the blinding overhead lights, a lingering sickly sterile odor... I lay motionless, staring absently at the nine-digit code inked into my wrist, distant voices discussed my future across the room.
"We can't not continue... after all our work!" a young male protested. "I know this project meant so much to you, but can't carry on with the procedure... if I knick one of those cords... it will be permanently paralyzed anyway. It's beyond my capabilities." another, older male argued. "But Doctor... I think we should at least try to--"
I closed my eyes, greatfully slipping back into unconsciousness where I began processing my last passing thoughts. I had nothing left in the world to hold on to. Every strand of who I once was was long destroyed. I was empty with nothing to lose, and could only pray for them to let me go. There was nothing they could do to scare me anymore. "It". I was an "it", not a living being. That's the way it would always be. I was raised under the belief I was special, that my gift made me special. But I was never special, I was always defected.
My defects separated me from those of my own kind, and now they were finally going to dispose of me. But none of it mattered anymore, because shortly I would be no more. No more defected, no more sick, no more project, no more "it", no more number, no more pain, no more life.