The Subject and the Scientist: Second Edition

Chapter Two: Seeing Red

(There will be grammatical errors because I haven't edited yet. This is a raw first draft that will be heavily edited.)

***This chapter contains graphic depictions of an "experiment" that is practically the torture of a young girl***

After observing the Subject, I spend the day planning the test for the Subject. It has a medical reason, of course. I'm not a sadist. This is what she's for. She's a medical marvel. I'm a scientist. Conducting tests is necessary. This will also remind her of her place.

She was acting abnormal earlier in the day but she quickly resumed her normal routine and upbeat attitude.

I'm in the basement, preparing my tools and a medical kit for the clean up. One of the Subject's more interesting traits is her body's ability to heal abnormally quickly. I've tested it repeatedly. Broken bones, bruises, and cuts all heal exceptionally fast. It makes for convenient punishments-I mean, experiments.

Not too long ago, she fell and bruised her knee. It took much longer to heal than normal. I have to test her body's healing process to ensure it isn't slowing down.

I pack what I need in a plain cardboard box and go over to her room. I scan my hand and the door slides open. She's obediently sitting at the table. She gives me a quick hopeful smile but it vanishes once she sees the box.

"Lie down on the table," I order as I clamp restraints down.

She takes a panicked look around the room but she knows she has no other option.

"S-sir, please," she whimpers, slowly kneeling on the floor and clasping her hands together. "I...I promise, I won't disobey again, sir. Please. I...I'm sorry, sir."

I watch her pitiful attempt at dissuading me from hurting her. It's laughable. She knows what she's done. I lean down and tilt her chin up.

"You are currently disobeying." I say, sharply, glaring into her panicked eyes. She visibly shudders at my voice. "If you don't want to make this worse than it already is, you'll shut your mouth and obey."

Tears silently stream down her face as she shakes harder. She slowly climbs onto the table and lies down. I secure her wrists and ankles. I tighten her bonds.

"Please...d-don't..." She knows her pleas are futile, yet she still tries.

"Quiet." I step back and retrieve a scalpel. I don't intend to inflict much damage.

She squeaks in fear and pulls hard at the restraints.

"You know that you're not getting free," I mutter as I roll up her shirt.

"W-why?" She dares to ask.

"I'm testing your body's healing process."

"But, sir...but it's the same-"

"Quiet," I order in a harsher tone. "You are not to speak until I give permission otherwise, understand?"

She nods and squeezes her eyes shut.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself to make the incisions. I rest the scalpel against the flesh of her abdomen. She flinches. I press the scalpel deep into her skin.

Her screams bounce off the walls and pierce my ears. I ignore her and continue cutting.

I'm too far gone. I'm numb. I want to be angry. I want to be upset. I want to stop. I want to hurt her more.

Blood drips down her stomach and stains my hands. Blood is such an intriguing shade of red. It's warm and chilling. It's bright and dark. It's mesmerizing. It's controlling.

I torture her for what seems like hours but couldn't have been longer than twenty minutes. She chokes on her own sobs and begs for mercy. I finally give it to her, overlooking her disobedience of speaking before I gave my permission. I clean and bandage the numerous cuts. I unbind her and she immediately curls up in pain.

"Take off your clothes," I order, flatly. "They need to be cleaned." She doesn't seem to hear me over her cries. I sigh and sit her up. "Clothes," I repeat, louder, holding out my hand.

She struggles to get her shirt off and yelps in pain. I mutter that she's being dramatic and yank it off.

"Ow!" She shrieks. I still ignore her and pull off her pants, leaving her in her underwear.

"Stay put."

I clean up my tools and return them to the box. I pick her up and move her to the bed. She clings to me in the few moments I'm close. She's desperate for any comforting touch. I pry her off of me and step back.

"Rest. You'll be healed within a few days," I say. "The test is completed." I pause. "...You've been testing boundaries. You are an experiment. I am a scientist. You are not like me. I am not like you. Try to cross these boundaries again and you will be severely punished. Understood?"

She quickly nods.

"I'm sorry, sir," she murmurs.

"I'll be back tomorrow with clothes. Keep warm. Drink water."

I take the box into the basement and secure the door before I go upstairs. I need to clean up. My hands and clothes are a dull red.

I go to the bathroom and throw our clothes in the laundry basket. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and freeze.

I don't recognize myself. Specks of blood cover my face and arms. I lean close to my reflection, searching my face for emotion. My eyes are horribly empty. There's nothing. No pain. No guilt. No anger. No remorse. I just tortured an innocent child and there's...nothing.

I grit my teeth and turn away from the mirror. She is not a child. She's an experiment. A thing. A failure.

My failure.