Déjà-visité

This is the start of my day. A day the same as always. Waking up in this small, cramped room that desperately tried to make me feel small. The tall, unforgettable walls, an old worn out gray stone. The floors, wooden, but just as worn out but covered in a glistening sense of shininess. All that lay in this room was its empty walls, the small bed with its matching covers. Despite its comforting disguise, it caused nothing but irritation to the human flesh. The box Tv that hung over my head, cracked long ago, is no longer functional. Instead, it is just an empty husk that admits static as if it were a dying call for help. Help, that will never come. Help that does not exist. For I am here, and only I, in this room. But after today, I will no longer be in this room. I will leave this place, its people, its Tv's, and it's horrid smell.

I stand to grab my journal, the one I stole off a guard yesterday. Filled with empty pages, sketches and words that I can't read. I decided that this will be my first documentary. All smart people document their thoughts. Their findings, and…sketches. So, as always I change into the usual clothing. The gray long sleeve button up and black jeans that we're all suited in. I hate this outfit truthfully, but it keeps me warm in this cold air and safe from any unsavory eyes. The air is so cold, it makes me shiver while I change out my nightgown and leave it folded on my bed. This cold…it stings, makes my skin get these tiny bumps. It reminds me of sitting in a doctor's office. Somewhere that in all honest;y is nothing but a faint memory…all I can remember about it is simply, the cold. I haven't gotten sick in a long time. And I'm not stupid enough to ever get hurt, here.

I am NOT stupid.

A loud blaring alarm soon went off. An alarm that echo through every room and hall, waking up anyone who had not already. The doors to our rooms, heavy and metal, with only a small window to allow sight, slides open. With heavy loud clangs to pair its weight. I step out, not putting on the uncomfortable shoes they leave in my room every night and instead place my bare feet against the cold wooden floor. I am one of the first to step out, with others shortly following. All of us, some my age, some older, not by much.they are never any younger. A new face…each and every one. Not a single one of them seems familiar, they never are. Everyday it's a new person, a new face, a new set of legs, eyes and limbs. This was the "B Zone" or so they call it. The guards…Men? Woman? People,humans, who stand in heavily padded blue armor. The blue was a gross color, a royal blue. Always clean, always a strong contrast to the walls around us with its gray hue. But besides the point, I am B8-261. It says so on the print along the bottom of my wrist.

More people come out of their rooms, one by one. The guards stand there watching us intel. "Allez déjeuner!" One of them shouted out with his loud heavy voice. Gruff and powerful enough to almost feel his throat shaking when he speaks. I don't know what exactly he's saying but I've heard it long enough to know it's time to get moving. Which in turn we all do, walking, marching practically down the empty hallways. Gray walls made from brick and smooth cement going for miles. No windows to let in light, no extra doors with clear means of exit. Just doors, and long hallways. The sound of shoes hitting the floor echoes through the halls. Just like the silence, and lack of voices. Each step was like a tick, a click of a clock in a quiet room. I hated it, I hated the silence. It made my skin itch. It made me feel as if I could scream and shout. Like every part of my body is on fire, boiling and begging for an escape. But I can't, none of us can. No... They can't.

I am not stupid enough to give up.

Just then, I bumped into a boy. Seems I wasn't paying attention. My eyes met with his. He seemed my age at the very least, but he was shorter than I was. His hazel eyes were trained onto me. His blond hair, a mess that tried to come off as upright and combed through. His skin was just as pale as mine, and yet lacked my impurities. Not a single freckle, or detail out of place. No, his skin was perfect. It looked smooth and soft. Just like that disgusting smile he was giving me. It seemed kind, and…happy. Almost smug looking at a glance. He must be new. He began to speak, but I wouldn't listen. His voice was soft.while nothing but a distant whimper in my mind, it lingered like a low hum in my ears. He was saying something. An apology? A greeting? No matter what it was, I didn't care. He was a waist. One I brushed past to keep walking. I had no time, if I wanted to leave. I had no reason to care about him in the first place. Someone with a smile like that will die very quickly. Or lose it just as fast.

So while he talked, I took my leave. I could feel his gaze staring me down as I left. Following the line. Following the heavy steps of the others. This boy? He wasn't worth the glance. So, I went on. Where, they walked us all into the cafeteria. It was wide, rows upon rows of tables that I swear could stretch for at least a mile. The room was big but just as bleak as the halls and our rooms. There was no specific seatings, but they watched our every move. Listened to every conversation. And then there was…Dill. The one that was admitting that…scent. The horrid smell of pickles overwhelmed your senses. Any newcomers would simply gag at the smell alone, let alone what they were about to see. Dill was the bringer of this scent, hence the name I gave him. Dill.

It begins while we take our seats, One by one, as we all sat down the guards would close the metal doors nice and tight and guard them. While…HE arrived. Dill came slithering down from the big hole in the center of the ceiling, covered in a slick. Red like paste that expelled from his pores. The scent of pickles was overwhelming by now. The sounds he made while his body slithered out was stomach churning. His skin, was a disturbing greenish pale, covered in the red puss that covered his abnormally stretched out arms and torso. His legs, strung out in multiple directions. With no feet, they were like long dangling worms with no muscle mass. But with him was his doll.

A large, empty and hallowed out suit of sorts for him to cram, and slip into. Starting from the mouth, he would force his strangely large head down into the jaws of this doll. The creaks from the wood, and joints pushing open to fit his slimy body. Inch by inch his slim figure found its way into the doll. Pushing apart its disconnected pieces and filling them with his limbs. I had no doubt if there were bones in there, they would protrude right from the body with how much he slithered around. Everyone's gaze was uncomfortable. Some were mortified, others just the same as my own. Simply, unphased. This was a normal event, no?

Once he was done, fitting himself into his "shell" there was a loud clamp. The suit tightened down as it began to take its human-isk shape. The wood and bolts, twisting and turning, Melding against his slimy flesh intel the tall figure was bent out of place in odd positions. Red, thick slime all that squeezed through the cracks. It was disgusting. The dolls painted on eyes were simply covered in this sticky substance, coming from the small peepholes that allowed just barely enough sight. The air was tense and heavy. Food was going to be served and he was the one to serve it. Yet, I never wondered why. Why and how does he make the food? Where from? Maybe, it's better I don't know.

But it began. From the back of the doll, long inhuman arms came crawling out. Bunches of them, first with just two, then eight, then so many it would start to spill across the floor. Each arm that came out, made a noise. Like fabric being torn at, or a paper being shredded. Each arm, having today's breakfast. A yellow mush, that I wish could say, looked like mashed potatoes, But its color was unnaturally toned. And while it had a similar taste to food when eaten, it was never something you could directly say taste like one thing. It was a mixture of tastes but lacked the smell. Each hand would stretch out toward the set up plates and begin setting the slop down, by the dozens. As suddenly there's another crash. This time from across the lunchroom.

That boy from before was back and standing up on the table…He stood tall, chest out and a determined look in his eye as he began sprinting at Dill, charging with his fists up. Each impact of his feet against the table made a heavy resounding clank. The look in his eyes was unsettling. It was so full of anger, and passion. So rebellious, that even my own eyes couldn't stand to keep contact as he ran by. He…is stupid.

With his left hand raised up, and all that gathered momentum, he swung his arm right toward Dill, Head on. The impact made a loud crack that echo though the entirety of the room…The boy, again leaned his fist back and sent another heavy swing at the mask. Again...Crash. And again...Crash. But now he was screaming, his entire chest was put into his screams. They sounded so desperate. So filled with rage, and yet this boy was crying. Streams of tears ran down his red cheeks now. Just as red as the blood leaking from the bear skin as a result of his punches.

Every blow left Dill unresponsive as before. The room was still with terrified kids, and guards who simply watched. They didn't step in this time...They didn't even bother. Blow after blow, the boys' swings got slower, weaker. The rage in him dying out. But...not even I was ready for...the snap. It was paired with the tearing of meat and a loud, blood curdling scream of pure horror. A splatter of warm liquid splashes onto my face and clothing. Some of the other kids, too got some blood spilt onto them and began to scream. Began to panic, and sob. 

But the blood...it was so warm. It was an odd warmth I had yet to experience, despite the many times I've seen blood. To feel it on my skin...trickling down my lips. Down my cheeks…It was quixotic. None a less, the boy's arm landed hard onto the tabletop. Laying there twitching like it was begging for help, still squirming around like it had failed to realize its situation. Blood was everywhere now...Painting the table and Dill with its warmth. The boy himself on his knees crying and holding the bleeding nub of bone and torn, loose flesh. He was choking on tears by now and repeating how badly it hurt. As if anyone were to listen. Dill's grin peeking through the bottom of the mask. The cultprate, taking great pride in his actions. Like an artist looking at a wonderful painting...Cold green eyes glancing around the room…

But I understood now. I understood why the guards didn't stop this. Why Dill is taking this so well. It was an example. A warning that you couldn't hurt them. That we were nothing compared to them...That...we are...nothing. The boy though...he stood up again. A growing dizzy grin upon his face... Sobbing his heart out. As he took a slow and tipsy step towards the inhuman creature before him. Like he saw through that mask. Saw and knew that thing was nothing like a human. No words were spoken from any kid. Before there was another loud crack and scream. This time I saw it. In a moment's notice one of Dills arms had rushed forward and penetrated its way through skin and bone, with enough force to have fully remove his leg. My body was frozen...Stuck in place seeing such a sight. But why? Why was my body so shocked when I wasn't...

He is going to die, and everyone here will be forced to watch. Is this madness? What could have driven this boy so far… as to not give up? Even now he was still moving. Even now…bleeding and barely able to move he crawled his way to Dill with such a look. Like he had a goal. Like he truly believed he could do something. But it was clear Dill was getting tired of this. He was slightly hunched over the boy. That grin now nothing but an irritated frown, arms dangling beside him covered in the boy's blood. And for one final time, there was a crash…or I thought there would be…but it was replaced with a screech. Nonhuman, demonic almost. Its tone was low and enough to shake your insides. But to my surprise the fool had one of Bill's squid like hands tightly gripped in his jaw and still working left hand. Biting hard and gnawing into Dill's raw skin despite the gross goop that poured down this throat. The look in his eyes like a savage beast. Fighting for even once ounce of hope. A sense of pride glinting in his pink eyes. It was...intoxicating. All of it. For some reason...Despite this horrific sight. I had a smile. A soft, but existent smile spreading my blood tainted lips. The taste managing to find itself upon my tongue. One of a Metallic...copper taste, burning into my mind...So distracting...That I forgot to say goodbye.

There were no additional sounds of collision, only the unsettling cacophony of flesh being torn asunder, a gruesome symphony of the separation of bone and flesh. The scene unfolded with the visceral sounds of blood gushing and splattering across the walls, accompanied by the disconcerting echoes of bones cracking in discordant harmony. These were horrifying sounds, the cries of others in the room. The sounds of death right before me. Sounds, that were slowly fading out of my mind...As I simply picked up my fork. And began to eat. I wasn't stupid enough to waist good food.