Howl [FIRST CHAPTER PREVIEW]

Chapter One - Free

Click.

Whirr...

Click, click.

His eyes darted toward the camera in the far corner of the room. The black, dome-like object flashed a teasing red dot in the center, reassuring him in the more morbid sense that he was being watched. The dark glass surrounding the camera was two inches thick, he theorized, to keep him from smashing the damn thing. And with every annoying little click, he found himself tempted to do just that.

Click, click, whirr.

This was new; an overactive camera was unusual. He could only figure that someone new was manning it tonight. They more curious than the usual operator, for certain. The camera had not stopped focusing and adjusting position for the past twenty minutes and thirty-six seconds.

Yes, he had been counting. Not that there was much else to do unless he wanted to shove his thumbs in his ass and whistle show tunes. He could try to sleep, but with all the activity constantly battering his hearing it would be impossible. And any time he had awake without experimentation was damn near a luxury.

The camera moved again, and he could see the lenses shifting, growing, and shrinking through the thick black dome. Whoever was manning it tonight was more curious than the rest. And they called him the monster.

He had long since pushed himself into the farthest corner of the room from the heavy bolted door, his back to the wall. An admittedly pathetic attempt at protecting himself from the inevitable intrusion and jolt of debilitating electricity.

He was the pure picture of relaxed, with one leg stretched out and the other bent to rest his arm on his knee. The faint slouch to his posture suggested he had been in the position long enough to grow comfortable against the flat gray brick behind him. His was head rested back against the stone, eyes hooded in false ease as he leveled his gaze at the door.

He had been in this very position for nearing two hours without so much as a shift in position. And truth be told he was starting to get stiff. But the longer the camera continued moving, he would give them no satisfaction of activity. He could very well be meditating for all they knew.

But he was not as relaxed as he pretended. And how could he be? He was completely enraged. Just as he was the day before that, and the day before that at the prospect of how easily they overpowered him with their little darts of medicine and electric shocks.

They had kept him in this small white room for as long as he could remember. Though his memory did not span far in the first place. After months (even years) of captivity, he had gathered only scraps of information. And even after so long, it was hardly enough to build an identity from. They had given away nothing, and that was not much of a surprise either. They had no reason to talk about who he was; only what he could be.

To them, his name was Subject K. And he was an experiment, housed in cell block 36A, where containment and security were at maximum all hours of the day, seven days a week.

From what he could gather, he was something of a prized experiment for them. He could see that much in their eyes while they looked at him. Studied him. He could hear them whispering to each other with excitement every time a new test result came back. Every time he succeeded they would grow more excited, more ravenous for positive results no matter the pain it caused him.

His fingers strummed against his kneecap, eyes glancing toward the door for a just a moment before settling on a blank space of wall beside it. He was restless. And with good reason. After a recent attempt at escape that resulted in considerable damage to their outside facilities and a few of the scientists as result, they had decided to punish him. A week in this blank room without the privilege of outside containment. The privilege of fresh air, and sunlight.