"LET ME OUT!" I was screaming at the top of my lungs. The walls of the small room were white and the room was empty. My voice bounced off the walls of the small space. It was driving me insane.
I began to scratch my arms until I saw blood.
That's when I felt the electricity surge through my body. I screamed in terror and collapsed to the bare floor. I was shaking horribly hard. The surge wasn't strong enough to stop my heart, but strong enough to cause pain. Colors swirled my vision and dark shapes danced in the colors.
"Experiment 234, we have informed you of what happens when you try to harm yourself," a voice boomed through the intercom. "Refrain from it or we will restrain you."
"Die in a hole!" I screeched. More electricity.
"I don't tolerate such behavior from you," the voice said in that monotone way of speaking it had.
I don't know how I ended up in this mess. I woke up one day and found myself in this room for testing. Some men in lab coats made me take some tests, and then they put the electric collar around my neck. I have been in the room ever since. At first I thought I would be set free soon, but then the annoying monotone voice came on and said I wasn't leaving. How long had it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? What were these people planning?
"Let me go!" I begged for the thousandth time.
"No," the voice replied.
I was going insane. I could feel paranoia eating my insides slowly, and I felt the wall keeping insanity away crumbling. It was only a matter of time before I would be gone forever. Then what would happen to me? What would my parents do?
My parents. Mom and Dad. I missed them. Where were they? I had been hoping ever since I was locked up that I would be found, or that they would come through the front doors at any minute looking for me. They were scientists. They would know that these people would be doing something to me that wasn't safe. They would find out when they rescued me.
Suddenly, I heard the clicking of locks being unlocked and my door being opened. I stood up, still shaking.
A doctor stood there. His black hair was neatly combed over to the side, and his glasses were smudge-free. His lab coat was a bright white. The doctor had on huge black rubber gloves to protect himself. Most likely from me.
"They're ready for you," he said in a menacing tone.
"Who?" I demanded.
He roughly grabbed my arm and took me from the room, not answering me. He pulled me down white hallways with linoleum floors. Behind locked doors, I heard screaming and animal like sounds. Where was I? And where was I going?
We entered another room, where doctors and nurses waited patiently. Before I could react to what was happening, I was strapped to a metal table and rolled down more hallways.
I looked at the doctors that were rolling me along. They looked forward with stone cold expressions on their face. They made no eye contact with me or with each other, they just looked ahead.
I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. Something was about to happen to me. And I knew it wasn't anything good.
Suddenly, a nurse held a needle over me and injected me in the arm. I felt very tired all of the sudden and I knew as I fell unconscious that I would never see the light of day again.
I awoke to the sounds of electronic beeping and the low murmur of voices.
"He's awake," someone said.
I was opened my eyes and was blinded by a bright white light over me.
"Hello, sweetie," said a familiar voice.
My eyes adjusted, and I saw her.
Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had on a lab coat. Her green eyes focused intently on me, and she gave a pained smile.
"Mom! These people, they locked me in a room and-"
"I know, sweetie," mom said.
Dad suddenly was leaning over me. "Oh, you woke up," he said, his blue eyes gleaming.
"Dad! Mom! Help me!" I begged. Why hadn't they got me out of this?
"I know you're scared," Mom said, "but we have to sedate you again."
What did she just say?
"Yes," Dad said. "We haven't even got the experiment started yet."
"Where am I?" I screeched. "Mom! Dad! Please! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"
"I wish we could, honey," Mom said.
"But you're our test subject now, and you need to be still," Dad added.
"Melanie, sedate the patient," dad said loudly.
"Yes, sir," a voice said, and I was sedated once more.
My parents preformed more operations and tests on me. I was their newest genetic test subject, and I was changed into something no longer human. I couldn't talk anymore, and I couldn't even voluntarily move some of my muscles now.
Finally, I was deemed a failure and sentenced to "disposal".
"I mean, look at that thing!" a scientist said, pointing a sharpened pencil at me.
"It no longer has human thoughts," Mom said, shaking her head sadly. "It's completely inhuman now."
I wanted to tell her that I could still think, that I wasn't totally gone, that I could still hear and understand them, but I couldn't speak a single word.
"And he showed such promise in the beginning," Dad sighed, grabbing a strait jacket for me.
"What are we going to do with it?" a nurse said, making a disgusted face as she looked at me.
"What else?" Mom said. "We'll have it incinerated. We'll just take the ashes and throw them away or something."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to be home, playing video games or studying for an Algebra test or something a kid would be doing. But I couldn't move, and I was forced to sit still as my father put me in the jacket.
How could my parents be so cold? How could they do such an unspeakable thing to their own child? Was I that insignificant to them? Did they even love me in the first place?
Weren't they going to miss me after they killed me?
"We'll take care of it," Dad said, carrying me like a groom would carry a bride.
Mom followed behind Dad as they walked down hallways with me in their arms.
Mom, Dad, don't do this, I thought.
Mom opened up a metal door, and the three of us entered a dimly lit room with a wall of the little oven things people would get cremated in. Some of the ovens were actually turned on, and from one or two of them creature of some kind were screaming.
Dad opened up an empty oven.
"You probably can't hear me," Mom said to me, "but you were a good little kid for all of those tests."
I can hear you, Mom. Don't do this.
"Yes. You were a good little kid to have around the house," Dad said. "It's a shame you couldn't have been more interested in sports like me."
Dad, I would have gladly signed up for soccer if that would have made you happy.
"Do you think this was the best way to dispose of such a pathetic child?" Mom asked, not even paying any more attention to me.
"If we would have known he wasn't going to make us happy, I would have had you get an abortion," Dad replied, placing me inside the chamber that would be my final resting place.
A single tear slid down my inhuman face. They never cared? Was I just their little puppet?
"Too bad we have no other kids," Dad said.
"We can have more," Mom said happily. "Then, if they're not all that grand, when they become the right age, we can test on them!"
The last thing I heard before the iron door closed was their insane laughter.
I closed my eyes. I had never expected to die such a pathetic death. I used to dream of my death, when I was busy thinking about the future. Sometimes, I would have died doing something heroic and brave, and other times I would have died of old age, but had undergone so many adventures and was adored by the world. My death would have the world crying for me, and everyone would come to pay their respects to the coolest and nicest and all around greatest person on Earth. Never did I ever think I would die such a pathetic death by the hands of my parents. Never did I ever think that I would be something so insignificant and unimportant to my parents, as easily discarded as a piece of trash. And I never thought that as I died that I wouldn't even be able to utter even the smallest whimper.
I heard the sound of an old knob turning, and the fire leapt to life in the death chamber in which I lay. I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to think about how I was going to be burnt to death and my parents didn't even give a damn.