Inhuman

Chapter 6

A sting in my thigh, that’s the last thing I recalled after I woke up.

I remembered hearing someone coming toward me, but I didn’t look up from my little spot on the floor. Pushing me roughly onto my side, I felt a small, but distinct, sting in my right thigh.

Then…darkness.

Reality blurred with dreams as I lay upon a cot in the corner of a white room. I had enough sense to survey my surroundings, even though my vision wasn’t quite cooperating yet. Straining my eyes, I clumsily lifted my head to look around. In a far corner sat a polished porcelain toilet, beside it, a matching sink. Every other corner was empty.

A door, a cot, a toilet and a sink. All white.

In my drugged stupor, I laughed as I compared the room to a heavenly hell. Trapped in the tiny white room, I cried stupid tears…the kind that come when you’re laughing hard, not from being happy, but from sheer delirium.

I pushed myself to sitting and swung my legs over the side of the cot. Holding my head in my hands, I tried to focus so I could stand and walk to the toilet. Stumbling as I stood, I stooped over and held onto the cot for support until I could reach the wall. Sliding my hand along the cold cement surface, I made my way to the toilet. I hadn’t been allowed to go the entire time during the inquisition and my entire lower half was screaming for release.

Undoing my jeans, pulling them down and sitting quickly, I sighed loudly as my bladder emptied. The sound of my relief reverberated off the four white walls. Happy that I’d enough control not to release my fluids while I was drugged, I surmised that I couldn’t have been under that long or maybe I had been out for days and my body was just being pleasantly compliant.

Considering how the bastards had denied me of any water, I might simply have been extremely dehydrated.

Eyeing the sink as I pulled up my pants, I hurriedly fastened the button.

Turning the cold knob on as far as it would go, I bent over the sink and shoveled a least a quart of water down my throat with cupped hands. Splashing the frigid water onto my face and streaming it through my hair with my fingers, I allowed a moan of contentment to escape me.

It’s funny how even the simplest of things are pure pleasure when you’ve been denied them.

But why had I been denied anything?

I felt like nothing more than a caged animal now.

Pacing back and forth in my ivory den, I questioned my sanity. Maybe I had done something terrible and simply didn’t remember. But that didn’t seem to be the point of the questioning session. The agents wanted to know about my birth, my parents and medical history.

None of it added up.

My stomach growled angrily at me, demanding nourishment. Drinking another round of water sustained me for a little while…but not for long.

After another immeasurable amount of time imprisoned within my cell, I began banging on the door, demanding food.

Surprisingly, within about fifteen minutes, a narrow, hinged access flipped open at the bottom of the door and a rectangular tray was slid through. Pulling off the lid, I was greeted with a plate of steaming hot spaghetti. My hands shook as I removed the fork from its napkin cocoon and plunged into the meal. With every bite, I could feel my blood sugar rising and energy rush throughout my body.

After devouring the entire plateful, I laid down on the cot and let my stomach settle. Before long, I heard the ominous sound of keys jingling just outside the door.

Sitting up with a mixed sense of fear and relief, I smoothed back my wild and tangled hair. Strangely, I actually desired some human contact despite the inhumane interactions with the last ones.

A silver cart with an assortment of medical supplies preceded an attendant dressed in a white lab coat.

“Hello.” My voice was gritty and weak from the crying and screaming during the interrogation.

My polite welcome elicited no response whatsoever. The attendant simply pushed the cart into the center of the room, stood before me and stared at the back wall with no expression.

Examining the implements on the tray, I felt my heart sink and my stomach churn with fresh nerves. Organized neatly were several large syringes, various scalpels, scissors and disinfectant wipes.

This looks painful. My lips fell into a downward curve as I shivered with anticipation.

Mentally and physically preparing myself for the next stage of suffering, I watched as several agents in black filed into my tiny torture chamber.

Oddly, I was mildly relieved to see Agent Evans leading the pack. All the rest were unfamiliar. A blonde, blue-eyed agent at the back of the group sneered at me and eyed my chest.

Averting my eyes to the floor, I awaited the next onslaught of questions.

“Restrain her.” Agent Evans commanded his team. Obeying immediately, four agents rushed at me all at once. Two pinned my arms down while the other two grabbed my legs. I attempted to fight, but was quickly overtaken. The agents retrieved cotton straps from the underside of the cot and placed one around each of my limbs.

The four compliant agents then backed off, satisfied that I was sufficiently controlled. As I stared at the ceiling, hot tears rolled down my temples. Beside me, I could hear the light clinking of the implements being readied.

“We want eight vials of blood, four tissue samples and a hair sample.”

Nodding, the lab tech prepared a syringe to draw my blood. I tried my best to remain calm, but my entire body shivered with fear.

Why? Why me?

Wincing as the needle pierced the tender skin within the crook of my elbow, I made eye contact with Agent Evans.

“Please…” I begged, “Please…tell me why…I’m here.” My sobs echoed in the tiny room.

Agent Evans appeared to debate with himself as he watched the vials of blood fill, one after another. Sighing, his jaws clenched as he ignored my pleas.

After all the glass tubes were full of my precious lifeblood, the man in the white lab coat proceeded to scrape tissue samples from various regions of my body.

As the inside of my cheek was sliced, a copper flavor overwhelmed my taste buds and I felt a line of warmth trickle down the side of my cheek. Gagging from the overflow of blood welling in my mouth, I turned my head and spit red all over the white floor.

The hair sample, which I presumed would be the least painful of all, turned out to be the worst. I screamed as the lab tech carved out small chunk of my scalp.

Jackass! Now that spot will never grow back!

The pure white cell now looked like a crime scene and for all the sense it made to me, it was.

For the moment, all the agents and the lab tech had left me alone. I could hear them discussing amongst each other just on the other side of the door though, probably thinking up new ways to torture me.

Running my tongue along the inside of my cheek, I cursed again as I felt more of the butcher’s handy work.

That was the point when I realized that I probably wasn’t going to live through this. If they’d been so brutal just asking questions and taking samples, there was no way they were going to let me just walk out of here— wherever I was.

I missed Amy terribly. She’d be the only person that would even notice I was missing at this point. I had no idea if I was even going to see Keanu again, he didn’t really leave me any indication we were a serious item.

My grandmother wouldn’t notice for weeks—possibly months—that I was missing. I didn’t keep in touch very well. The only way we’d communicated over the last couple years was via letters through the mail.

I hadn’t paid my tuition yet or registered for classes, so they’d probably think that I wasn’t coming back. No one but Amy ever came to my room on a regular basis. Amy might alert the authorities, but they’d probably just