His Experiment

Chapter 7

I gasped as I registered the sharp pain, a thin trail of blood making its way down my arm and into the crook of my elbow. The wound wasn't deep, just barely breaking the surface, but the sudden pain had surprised me. I watched as Zachariah raised his hand, inspecting the little bit of blood that coated the top of his finger.

Faster than my eyes could watch, he placed his finger inside his mouth and removed it, appearing to taste my blood. I fought to keep my face neutral but felt it slip into a disgusted grimace anyways. He was statue like as he savored the liquid, staring blankly over my head and out the window.

When his eyes finally dropped to me, I quickly looked away. Instead, I focused my gaze on his nose, ignoring the way his yellow eyes pierced me. "What makes you so different?" I heard him mutter; I was smart enough to realize he wasn't asking a candid question. Suddenly, he stuck his finger back into his mouth, grabbing my injured wrist in his other.

"Don't-" I could hardly get my protest out before he placed his finger over the wound. The dampness of his saliva was overruled by a much stranger feeling; my skin warmed for a second under his touch and it felt as if I'd been zapped. He quickly let go, rising to his feet smoothly. As he turned away, my eyes dropped to my wrist, only to see a smear of blood, but no cut.

"Healing properties..."

He stood again and I trained my eyes on him, afraid of what he could do. He gave no explanation as to what tasting my blood had revealed to him and I was angry at myself for even caring. What did it matter? He was an unpredictable specimen that I should fear completely; being both scared and interested was going to get me killed.

Oh, well, I thought to myself. I'm going to be killed anyways. He merely stood over me, staring over my head. I took a moment to observe my surroundings, trying to store it all within my mind. He had brought me to a simple square shaped room. The walls at one time might have been white, but now they were a dingy gray that made me feel dirty just looking. Pieces of hardwood poked out on the floor, showing where the dusty purple carpet had been scuffed or peeled away. One window was placed behind me and it appeared like it hadn't been cleaned in decades; the ripped curtains around it were a stained light blue that had seen better days.

All in all, it was a dump.

I was startled to see a television set up against the wall across from me. It was a ratty old thing - much like the rest of the room and house as far as I could tell - and the volume was muted. The picture that came in flicked between color and black and white, making me think it was at least thirty years old. As I paid more attention to the actual image, I realized it was a local broadcast. If the sound had been on, we would've heard the constant, annoying beeping that always accompanied warnings like this.

A face flashed on the screen and it took me a moment too long to realize it was mine. I felt a rush of fear at this, my mind kicking it into high gear.

"They're looking for me," I breathed. My mind flashed back to the laboratory, the sterile white walls and Kate, the lovely lady who broke my leg.

"The program has been playing all night long." I jumped at his voice. Whenever he talked, his voice always seemed to bounce of the walls and vibrate inside my head; being trapped in a small room with him didn't help. I kept my eyes trained to the TV, too scared to see the look on his face.

"Can they find me here?" I truly felt as if I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Staying with the monster at my back would surely guarantee my death but returning to the government wasn't much better. I could either die or be turned into a monster; and then die. I had no doubts in my mind that, if I was turned into a monster and placed up against Zachariah, I would be dead in nanoseconds.