the test subject//fillie

12.

**millie's pov**

When I first try to unlock my eyelids from compacting tightly closed together, all I slightly can see are harsh, glowing rays of light prying to separate my eyelids, as I slowly come back to consciousness with a strong sense of disorientation, the same location, which was on the left side center of my skull, in which is where I'd gotten knocked over the head with something extremely hard, throbbed endlessly. 

Oh, my God, that was actually real? 

I prayed that this was all just another nightmare, but of course, it's not, not with my luck. 

Where the hell even am I at?

Unable to fully describe my surroundings other than only the tinted blurs I could spot, the memories from when I was last awake flooding back into my head, I try to open my eyes again, groaning out due to the harsh illumination's impact it had on my sensitive eyes. 

Once they finally adjusted to the level of light, my vision sharply focuses, as I stare around the bright room with confusion, only a metal side-table with a silver desk lamp on top to be seen within the entire area. 

I recall seeing the same older man with the distinct brown mustache who was onto me a couple of days ago, in the backyard of that home, as I know for a fact that he was the one who snatched me from my home. 

There might have been more men there, too. It all just happened so fast. 

The feeling of panic, reality, and fear cracks me into pieces like a two-ton wrecking ball, tears pouring down my face because of my defenesless, unknowing of where I am and where my friends and family are, sitting up in the bed to cry harder. 

I realize that they changed my clothes while I was knocked out cold, as I wipe away the moisture that had dripped down to the sweaty skin of my neck with the cloth of a blue hospital gown. My eyebrows pull closer together in confusion, pulling the fabric away from my chest to get a better look, as many more tears escape. 

Why on Earth would they put a hospital gown on me?

Oh, no. 

What if I'm part of some illegal organ trafficking case and they're going to kill me? 

The thought alone pushes me over the edge to lean over the side of my bed, vomiting profusely onto the floor out of terror, the neutral colored liquid loudly splashing against the white tiled floor, as I quickly get it all out, spitting any of the excess substance out of my mouth repeatedly, soft weeps escaping me as I do so. 

I just begin to start crying hard all over again, unknowing if I was ever gonna see my boyfriend, friends, and family ever again, the thought absolutely devastating me, as I lay down onto my side in almost acceptance of my fate, the width of my chest heaving up and down heavily. 

How the hell could I ever get out of here? 

There's no way I could get by any of them without being spotted. 

I think of what Finn would do if he were in this exact situation, and what he'd aspire me to do, too, as I quickly almost slap myself, striving to change my negative mindset about how I'm perceiving the odds stacked against me right now. 

If I think I that I won't be able to get out, then I won't. If I try my hardest, then there's still a chance. 

Would Finn accept you just laying down in defeat right now, Millie? 

No, he'd want you to try. 

Standing to my bare, cold feet, on the opposing side of the pile of disgustingness, beside the bed and onto the part of the floor that wasn't contaminated, as I race towards every inch of the room, searching for a window to peer out of, coming to no avail of any possible way out.