Sample

Sample of Chapter One

The day she was born was a cold and rainy one, the sort of which would make any logical person avoid venturing outside, though it was necessary for many, as it was an early Tuesday morning. As the rain battered the windows, the sky darkened by heavy clouds and the rare bolt of blazing electricity ripped through blacks and greys, her mother was writhing and screaming in horrid pain. The young woman, too young to be able to properly take care of a child, had been crying and screaming in rippling pain in a white hospital bed, unaccompanied by anybody other than the doctors and nurses that rushed around, attempting to save the mother and her baby.

The child-to-be's father was unknown and ultimately out of the picture, so her poor mother was banished to writhe alone, disowned by her family for becoming pregnant at fifteen years of age. It was already decided that the femme was to keep her baby, which was assumed to be male, though she had never been told by professionals of its gender, as she hadn't told a soul, other than her family, of her conception, and was lucky that her stomach didn't stretch greatly in size as the child grew inside of her, as she was then able to keep it hidden from others.

After a course of different needles, pills, and many other medical procedures, the mother let out a loud, blood-curdling scream as she finally pushed the baby out of her body after twelve hours of excruciating labour, causing blood to spray all over the bed, the woman, the doctors and the child. As the pain began to subside, the teenager relaxed a bit, letting the doctors deal with her and her new baby, cleaning away some of the blood, wrapping the brand new child in a towel, and then handing the child to its mother.

"Congratulations, you now have a beautiful baby girl. Would you like to hold her?" The male doctor asked the woman, who smiled slightly and weakly nodded, her black hair moving as her head did.

"Here you are. Do you know what you would like to name her?" He asked as he handed her the small child, who was obviously much smaller than a normal new-born, her tiny head completely bald, her wrinkled skin bright pink, and she wept loudly, her stubby arms flailing slightly as she was carried and held by her young mother.

"K . . . Kisa . . ." The teen stuttered as she smiled happily down at her baby, holding the tiny child in her arms, elevating her head with her own upper arm. "Kisa . . . Yamamoto . . ."

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The nine year old was curled into a tight ball, sobbing as she pressed her eye sockets into her knee caps, creating soaking patches of darker fabric on her tight, black slacks. She hugged her legs tight to her chest as she leaned against the walls in a corner of her room, which was painted pure white with white tile flooring and a plain white bed, with no windows whatsoever. A dim light cast a pale yellow glow over the room, causing the young child to cast a long, menacing shadow over the clean and very cold floor that she sat atop.

She was ridden with internal pain, as her back had just been cut open by the 'Labs', and they had torn through her muscles in search of something... Something unknown, to even them, and that scared the 'Labs'. Humans had always had an issue with things they didn't understand, so Kisa, the nine year old child, was a fearful child that required experimentation. Kisa had never been one to cry, despite all of her intense pain and her age, and she rarely did so, but she couldn't hold back her tears on that terrible day. She let them flow down her cheeks for a bit before she decided that enough was enough, and rose to her feet. Kisa leaned against the cold, hard, cement wall for support as her short legs struggled to hold her small body up, as she was weakened from the experiments. Experiments of which she wished not to think of. She slowly moved towards the large metal door, the cold steel shining duly in the pale light overhead. As she reached up to the metal knob, she found that it was locked tightly and she would be unable to turn it in such a weakened state, but the thought of being trapped like a rat in that room was enough to keep her at pulling and pushing against the door, trying her hardest to open it. It had been this way for as long as she could remember, but despite never being able to open the door, she never gave up and always attempted to open it.

She continued to do this until her legs gave out under her and she crumpled to the floor, thick tears streaming down her cheeks like waterfalls. Her body ached, her eyes stung, and her mind raced. All the young girl wanted was to be free, to be safe, to be without pain or care. But, she wasn't allowed such luxuries. She was a threat, and the 'Labs' were tasked with figuring out how and why, and ultimately with the disposal of her.

She cried out, pleading for help, begging to be freed, but of course, no one could hear her nor help her. She was trapped like a rat, and there was no escape . . .

Or so they thought. Everyone had believed that the holding cell was enough to keep they young girl held, as did even her. But upon lashing out in her daily rage, pounding the walls with her fists, scraping her hands and arms along the concrete surrounding her, cutting open her short legs on the floor, her slacks tearing where they scraped across the cement, cracking her fingernails down the centres as she clawed at the doorway, she fell to the floor, writhing in searing pain. Her body rippled with intense aching as she felt. . . different. She didn't know how, but she felt as though she had finally been awoken for the first time, snapped out of the constant daze she was in. The only thing she could register was the horrible pain. She couldn't feel her limbs, her body, only pain as though it was all she was.

Lacking a clue on what could be happening, the girl called out, no, screamed out for any assistance, though she was sure she wouldn't receive it. The 'Labs' would most likely assume she was either faking or just having a fit of rage or deep depression, which she frequently had. She knew for a fact that this was not something of that sort, as there had been very little to no pain whatsoever during her emotional fits, whereas in this particular case she was ridden with pure agony.

Was she dying? She couldn't know for sure, and though it seems morbid and quite odd that a girl as young as nine years of age would even consider death to be grasping her, but she had seen many pass and knew death was unavoidable. She just wished she could somehow leave that dreaded place and never, ever look back, though she was sure such a thing was impossible, and as she writhed and screamed in pain, tearing her throat ragged and causing her limbs to bend in unnatural ways, she remembered something . . .