My Deceiving Eyes

Chapter 9

February 17th, 2270 (two years later)

There's this weird itchy feeling under my skull and if it doesn't stop soon, I'm going to bash my fucking head against a wall. I was told yesterday that I had an appointment with Dr. Brown today. I don't want to fucking go but what else can I do?

I'm walking down the hallway I once thought was too confusing to map out. But, now that I'm older, the layout isn't that bad. It still looks the same after all these years. The floors always look white and clean. Seems like someone has been cleaning the floors daily. Can't say the same for the walls though. There's a lot of smokers on duty. I brush my hand along the wall. Everything is so glossy. They say it's because it's easier to clean messes like blood but, it just makes me nauseous to see the same bright glossiness everyday.

I fucking hate Michael. Every time I see him, I have the urge to punch him or go as far away as I can. "But he's still our caretaker." "He's just doing his job." I tried to make excuses but none seemed to work. I'm often reminded of how much he values his title over me. I scratch my itchy arm.

"You're nine minutes late." Dr. Brown greeted me as I opened the door.

"Sorry. I had to stay behind to finish an assignment." I quickly sat down on the medical chair. It's true. I was taking an assessment but blanked out for the first twenty minutes.

"It's fine." Dr. Brown puts on his glove. "We have tested our new serum on multiple infected and it hasn't been very successful."

"Am I ever going to know what you guys are injecting into me? I'm almost thirteen now." I asked. There's a needle on a tray that is filled with some kind of liquid.

"Perhaps. But, it's not my place to determine that."

"Then who?" Dr. Brown began cleaning an area on my arm with a cotton ball.

"I can't tell you and plus, I myself don't even know who can tell you about them."

"You're lying."

"You don't know that." I hate Dr. Brown. I never liked him as a kid and I still haven't but, I didn't say anything and let him inject whatever is in that syringe.

"Hard to believe that when I first took your blood, you were all screaming and kicking." He laughed. Yeah that's probably because I was a toddler. "You were so scared of needles but now look at you now! All obedient." Dr. Brown is fifty-one years old. And to make it weirder, for some reason, he always volunteers to be my primary doctor.

—

March 20th, 2270

What do people do in their free time? I've been playing Chess lately, too much actually. For the past few months, I've been hearing this agonizing buzz in the wall. I'm not sure what it is but it's keeping me up at night. All of the colors on my wall have been painted white and all of the Marvel posters have been taken down. Now, my room looks like it's part of the laboratory.

I can't sleep at night. Ever since I've noticed that someone has been going into my room, I've been so paranoid. For example, I'll look at my toothbrush in the morning and feel like something is off. Like someone fucking moved it or something. Or like when I went into my closet to pull out a shirt, I can feel that there's someone hiding in the shadow of the closet. Or like when I walk down the hallway, I can feel that there's someone following when there's no one. Things like that keep me up at night. I don't like the dark, I'm scared that someone will be hiding in it.

"Look, it's you!" The voice says to me every morning, as I stare into the mirror, "Ugly, but it's still you." Something always looks wrong about me.