Apocalypse

2

Kate

I don't dream and I am thankful for it. I can't say I remember the last time I had a nice dream, or if I ever had in the first place. I usually suffers from chromic nightmares. Occasionally the odd night terror, too. Which I guess doesn't really surprise me given what I have to go through on the daily basis. But that just means I don't get any breaks. I am either being tormented for real, or I'm reliving the memories in my sleep. My entire life is a nightmare, now that I think about it. It's not entirely pleasant. I don't recommend the lifestyle.

I lay here on my uncomfortable white bed, staring at the bland white ceiling, listening to the insufferable silence as I wait for them to come back in and perform their usual tests. Just another day in the sad life of Katelynn Forester. I can't help but feel like I want to be something more than a lab rat. Just in that moment it's consuming. It makes me consider trying to make a break for it whenever the next scientist opened that door. I planned the entire thing out in my head. Right down to how I would knock them out so I could slip out the door with their card keys. But I know I won't do it. I wouldn't even make it down the hall. It's nice to picture a life outside the facility though. I hate to say it, but for the first time in years I actually had a little hope that it could happen. That I could have a normal life.

Maybe it's just my new way of passing the time, or maybe this is a serious feeling. Either way, I never get my chance to find out. I don't know why I get my hopes up.

They will usually bring me food in the mornings that I would have to ration out throughout the day. Things like bland potatoes and maybe some kind of protein if I was lucky. Some crackers, water, maybe a stale cookie. Probably left over from wherever the scientists ate. I never have much of an appetite though, so I always have food left over. I store what I can in my desk drawers. Like the crackers and the water. They never took it away, so I assume it's alright by them. Or maybe they just don't know about it. But I am glad they don't, because they didn't bring me food that morning.

At first I just think that maybe it's a punishment for yesterday's outburst. It would make more sense. I almost always got 'disciplined'. But never like this. They would always just throw in more tests, or make me do some new particularly gruelling endurance course. Something that would cause me immediate and lasting pain or discomfort. I'm used to not eating much and I know from past experience that I wouldn't really be affected if I went a day or two without anything to eat.
So the hours draw on and they still have not come in to set a tray of food and water on my desk. I figure something else must be wrong.

I sigh and get up off the bed and pace over to the desk. I pull out a bottle of water and uncap it. I glance up at the vent as I take a sip- the water always tastes old and bitter- and frown as I notice air isn't flowing through it anymore. I set my water back down again and stare at the grates. It must have been recent because it isn't stuffy or hot in here yet. I'm not really all that worried about the vent not running, I know I'm not going to suffocate in here if it went off for a little while. But still. It's always on. There hasn't been a single time the entire time I've been here that it hasn't been on. It doesn't strike me as more than odd, though, so I don't think about it any longer.

I stay in the room -the cell- for the entire day. Which isn't unusual at all. Sometimes they would go for weeks without even bothering to check on me. They'd just shove food into the slot at the bottom of the door. This feels different though. The other side of the door is silent. Usually I can hear people walking around or carts being pushed around. Alarms or even just the intercom going. Today it's silent except for the hum of electricity. I'm not sure you would understand unless you understood, but silence is terrifying when you feel as dark inside as I do.

---

It has been days since I've heard anything at all on the other side of the door. I'm so unnerved by the silence that I'm almost begging for the sound of the door opening, even if I used to dread it so much. But it doesn't. It stays firmly shut.
My mind is screaming at me by this point. I just want something -anything- to end the silence and make the screaming stop.