The cells

I'm really starting to get sick of this shit. It's been days, weeks even, I'm not sure anymore. I've been restrained, locked up, tossed around, punched in the stomach, punched in the face, kicked, pierced with needles, and the endless amount of tranquilizers (God I'm so tired of the tranquilizers) keep me unable to fight back.


Day after day they drag me, or a heavily sedated version of me, into some sort of medical room and strap me into a chair. The light overhead is so bright it gives me headaches, or is it the injections? They ask me questions that I can't answer. They hook me up to I.V.'s and pump chemicals into my blood stream, while taking samples to do god knows what with. Blood. That's what I see before the room starts to spin and I blackout again. There was blood on their hands. Their words were muffled, everything spinning.


I fade in and out as they drag me from the room and am able to get an idea of where I am. It's some sort of military base. There are no windows, just long hallways with bright lights. Small rooms, or should I say cells, line the hallways. The cells all have surveillance cameras inside and the front wall is entirely glass. As I'm being dragged back and forth from my cell to their torture room (they called it a lab), I notice just how strong the glass must be.


Those things, those…monsters that were once normal people, they kept them in the cells. They were screaming and moaning, scratching at their skin, just digging into their flesh. Scraping away, biting at their own skin. They would throw themselves at the glass over and over, until it was smeared with blood and fleshy chunks that rolled and dripped down the glass.
There were others, normal people that weren't monsters. They always looked terrified, cowering in the corners, shaking and crying like frightened little children. They never seemed to be as out of it as I was. They were more aware; more awake.


As time went by their behavior would change. They would stop crying. Stop shaking. They'd sit on the edge of the small cot in their cells, their arms in a tight hug against their own body rocking back and forth. Mumbling was the next stage. Mumbling and scratching. They would pull at their hair ripping it out in patches. The next time I would see them they were all scratched up and covered with open wounds. They were like the other monsters now; completely gone. The only thing reflecting their former humanity was a mangled body shaped like it may have once been a person.
At the end of the hallway after passing all the numbered cells they would finally toss me like a ragdoll back into mine. I'm so weak, so exhausted that I just lay there on the floor for a while. Eventually I get just enough strength to pull myself onto the cot. I lay there and stare out at the cell across from me.


The person they brought in as a replacement for their previous failure had lasted a little bit longer than the other one, but he's changing now. He's rocking on his bed, scratching at his torn skin, chewing off the rest of his bottom lip. A few moments later he stopped moving altogether. He's just sitting on the floor with a dead stare. Staring at me like I'm a piece of meat, like I'm on the dinner menu.


He lets out a loud shriek and leaps at the glass. The first hit only leaves a few small blood splatters. It's been like this ever since I got here. I roll over and close my eyes. That's the only good thing about the tranquilizers. I was still able to fall asleep with all the shrieking and pounding happening in the hallway. They've got to be running out of people soon. This can't go on much longer, it's really starting to piss me off.