7 - The tragic tale of my diminishing sanity

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Author's Note -

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I got back to my room some time later with some information on Anaesthesia, Juliana and their mother. They were missing for real. Anaesthesia had apparently disappeared as well. There were no updates on her twitter, Facebook or MySpace page for more than two years. No one named Eugene was listed under the missing persons listing.

Anaesthesia was sitting on my table and Trac was on the floor.

It was impossible for them to have made up the story because they couldn’t move around outside of my room unless I was around. So Anaesthesia’s story could be true.

Trac spoke up “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“How long have you been a toy?”

“When did you get me?”

“When I was four? you've been a toy for twelve years?” I gasped, long time. Very long time.

“No, fourteen years and I had been missing for three years before that.”

“How come no one looked for you?”

“Seventeen years would be enough time for any family to give up.”

Anaesthesia hugged her knees. “I don’t want that,” she said with her eyes downcast.

I looked at the sound-proof glass wardrobe. “Is it the same for them as well?”

Trac nodded, “At least I was much older than them. They’re all little kids. Imagine how nightmarish this is for them.”

I didn’t want to tell them something else that I had found. Over the years, four of the orphans that Uncle Ben had sponsored had disappeared as well. That didn’t mean he had anything to do with all of this. I was a little uneasy because, he never mentioned anything about them.

“Any idea where and how you two got tuned into toys?”

Trac swiped his window wipers right and left, “I was blindfolded and locked up in a room full of toys for about three years.”

“Anaesthesia?” She had been uncharacteristically quiet for some time.

She jumped, like she had been lost in thought for a while, “Do you know where your uncle’s workshop is?”

“No, I’ll ask my Uncle.” I picked up my phone.

Anaesthesia looked alarmed, “Wait, you don’t know if he’s a part –“

“Fine.” I interrupted, putting down the phone.

“If you intern at his place, you can easily find that out.”

“Easily?” I sighed and took out Uncle Ben’s letter again. If I work there for the next three week I’ll definitely go crazy. I was going to turn down the baking thing. My cooking was bad for everybody's health. 

I faxed Uncle Ben a letter telling him I would intern at his factory. 

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