2013 Diclonius

Part Three

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<td class="midtext" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">After the surgery, the doctor stitched me up with clear thread, gave me antibiotics, and sent me off. My helper, obviously pleased with my co-operation, guided me to what we Specimen call the Prize Room. If we were especially good, we were able to take a prize from the Prize room, and we could keep it. The moment we misbehave though, it's all taken away. The first thing I got was the music box. It helped me through the long and lonely hours that followed the meals filled with chemicals. Inside the room, the walls were lined with shelves that were stuffed with toys, books, there were many things I did not even know of. New toys, old toys, broken toys. I had five minutes to choose my prize. So I looked around. Coloring books,  crayons, colored origami paper, pencils, little books, big books, teddy bears, rabbit toys, different sized music boxes, but there was none of the same as Lilium. Eventually, before five minutes was up, i ad picked up a backpack. Helper said that I was amazingly good the week, so i was allowed to take that backpack and take everything that was inside. It was heavy. I was brought back to my room, where I sat on my newly starched bed and itchy pillow. My music box lay to the side of my bed, on the cold floor. I set it on my pillow, and opened my new prize. I dumped its contents on my bed. A little leather journal, three pens, A little stuffed thing that was from the new version of a game called Pokemon. I believe it was called a Munna. Well, Munna, three pens, a leather journal, an iPod and charger, headphones, a wolf hat, and a little box. I opened the tiny box. In the box, lay a delicate silver chain necklace with a tiny ice cream charm attached to it. I smiled, and put it immediately in my little music box. It did not seem as lonely then. For the rest of the day, I wrote in my new journal. My name, my age, what I looked like, were I was from, and how badly I wanted to get out of here. Kira (Also known as Number 52), six years old. I had my bathroom break, my lunch, and my daily exercise. That was all I was allowed. The rest of the time, I was in my room. When nightfall came, the men came in and checked my things and me, and bid me goodnight. I guess they did not bother much about the journal when they read it. I guess they thought it was a way to keep my sanity. When the big heavy door closed for the night, I lay in my bed, writing away my plans to escape. I knew exactly how to do it. </td>

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