"Stay still now A-Z! If you don't we'll have to shut you up. You don't want that do you?!" The well known man screamed at me.
I wasn't strong enough to push back so I kicked him. It was the only part of my body not strapped to the fucking table.
The syringe that my father was holding flew out of his hand and landed on a lab table behind him.
Quickly without hesitation, he slapped me.
The tears that ran down my face stung. I could feel everything.
A woman ran in from another room to help the man hold me down. After her, three other scientists came in to observe and help.
"Son, just stay still, and you'll be able to to go back to your room for the day after this." The woman hushed, smiling at me.
The man left and returned within a matter of seconds with a new syringe. Without waiting for the others to approve, he sharply swung down and stabbed me in the heart. I felt it dig in and I stopped breathing. All I could get out was one word.
—
"STOP!" I screamed as I awoke from a nightmare. I was in a cold sweat.
I couldn't stop shaking, every move of mine sent memories flooding back to me. Memories of what they did.
Uncovering my body from the the sheets that entrapped me, I sat up quietly rose from my bed.
I was tired. Not that I could physically be tired but I was so emotionally.
The urge to cry finally broke through my barriers. My sobs of remorse and trauma filled the room.
I propped my elbows on my bare legs and gently rested my head on my hands. The sweat from my nightmare was stuck to my forehead.
"Fuck!" I shouted, knowing that no one could hear me. My room was under everyone else's. I was in the basement of the mansion I lived in.
After about 30 minuets of recollecting myself, I checked the time.
3:17 A.M.
I scoffed. I had only been asleep for an hour.
Getting up, I moved towards my dresser to retrieve a new pair of jeans while the others were being washed. I had no desire to switch the load at the moment so I pushed it off.
Slipping on my jeans, I went to the bathroom to wash my face.
I tried my best to avoid the mirror in the room, rushing to wash my hair in the sink. When I was done I looked up and made eye contact with myself.
Scars littered my face and body. All I could do was stare at myself. I huffed, eventually dragging my eyes away from the mirror. I grabbed a towel and tried to half ass dry my hair. Which I did perfectly.
Leaving the towel in the bathroom to dry because I had done almost nothing with it, I reentered the the bigger part of my room.
"Shirt, shirt, shirt." I repeated in hopes to forget about this morning. I returned to my dresser for shirt.
I slipped the shirt on and walked over to my belts.
Next to belts was a chair I sat in when I painted. I sat down and proceeded to slip my boots on. Then my belts and my coat.
By the time I was done, I was ready for the day.
Time, time, time.
3:45 A.M.
"Why am I in a rush?" I asked myself.
I felt the inside pocket of my coat. The pictures I carried around were always there.
Pulling them out I smiled. One was of my brother and I, when he was still alive and I was still 11.
My brother was the only one out of my family who cared about me, he even gave me my name.
—
"Hey kid, just imagine what you'll be able to do when you're older. You'll be immortal, you won't age, you are already the smartest person I know, you won't need to sleep or eat, and you'll be the strongest human in the world! The government will be all over you. Oh, and so will the ladies!" Maxwell burst out laughing as he nudged me. After that he proceeded to pull me in and give me a nuggie.
I pulled away and smiled at him.
"Think about all the people I'll hurt. They want to make my emotionless. That's scary..." I responded, twiddling with my fingers. I looked at him and shrugged.
"I know you don't like it. I wish you didn't have to endure it either. Our parents are horrible people, you out of all people know that. If I could run away with you I would, but we aren't up against a random family of hillbilly's in the south. We are against everyone." Max turned away to see if anyone was ease-dropping.
"I know." I replied.
"Come on Skcill, lets go play some ball!" Maxwell shouted as he got up and ran away from me at the speed of light.
Then, like in a fog, the memory faded and everything blurred.
I smiled and returned the picture to my pocket.
Although the other picture remained in my hand.
The smiled soon turned to a frown.
"I miss you much Mary. You out of everyone, were the only one that actually wanted to help me, and I left you alone. I could've saved you but I was so self absorbed with myself back then I-."
I cut off the rest of my sentence. I returned the picture of my dead lover to my pocket.
60 years. It has been 60 years.
80 years since I born. 60 since I met you... and lost you.
"Wow I'm old as shit. At least I'm not a boomer!" I chuckled and stood up.
I walked to my nightstand next to my bed and picked up my gas mask. Before putting it on I checked to see if I had my machete and canisters for my gases.
Satisfied with the check, I placed my mask on and walked to the door checking the time as I went by my clock.
4:00 A.M.
"Sounds good, let's head out and start the day!" I cheerfully exclaimed as a opened my door and left my my room.
—
This may not be very long or good but I've want to write this for awhile. So enjoy.
I checked for mistakes, if you found anymore, let me know.
