Those scars that you wear. [Charlie] Dec 11, 2012 19:08:55 GMT -5
Post by Vanessa Ryder on Dec 11, 2012 19:08:55 GMT -5
She hated cages – absolutely loathed them. The feeling was something that had followed her through her entire life, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of her shift’s nature or some forgotten traumatic experience that it seemed like everyone had, and had forgotten. The feeling of waiting in a cell or a cage made her anxious, but it made sense. She wasn’t ‘human’ here, she was reduced to an animal, a test subject, and she only had problem with the latter – hell, even pets were taken care of better. After a while, she’d almost been desensitized to it all. Her mind blocked out the giant glass dome above them and pretended that there’d been some giant apocalyptic mess, and that’s why everything had deteriorated so much. But that wasn’t the truth, and moments like this caused her to see the situation for what it really was.
The cell was cold, though it was lit slightly better than the others, because the doctors had no intention of taking her to the laboratory above them. The last time that she’d been sent into the labs, they’d given her some strange mutation that controlled electricity, and given her a second shift. It was a long ordeal, and while it was odd and unwanted, the devil in her saw the mischief she could cause with it, and completely exploited it. Leave it to Vanessa to raise a little hell.
They’d gotten smarter this time though, and had chosen to keep her in the holding cells for the examination – where she couldn’t fly away and lead them on a wild goose chase. With the cage door shut, she was under control and her tricks were limited.
She sat in the rear corner of the cage, pressed up against the wall and on the farthest side from the electrified door. There were footsteps every now and then, but other than that, it was an eerie silence. Nobody was talking, so she did her best to fill emptiness with humming – an aimless melody that offered little comfort other than to dull the thoughts stemming from having watched one too many horror movies when freedom, for her, was real. She could hear breathing in the distance, sometimes labored or shallow, and even though it seemed like they’d experimented on her enough, she wasn’t sure if they’d stop. What if they kept going? What if they messed something up, and she ended up like some of the others? The ones that were struggling to breathe due to some new mutation, or hurting everyone around her again like when she’d first tried to control the electricity.
All she knew was that she was there now, waiting for someone to show up and ask her about her adjustment. And if she was lucky, they’d have an issue with security and she’d take full advantage of it – but she wasn’t holding her breath, not this time.