Who am I?

Ch: 6☕

Date: 6084, Sep. 13, 12:04 pm.

POV: Nyx

I lay on the cold floor, tired and stiff. Another night spent entirely in the test lab. Needles shoved in my arm, machines hooked to my head. It's never a pleasant experience, and unfortunately no amount of time can help you cope.

I sigh, rolling over to check the digital clock on the other side of the room next to my old, flimsy air mattress I haven't used in over 10 years.

I find it easier to alert myself to my surroundings in harsher environments.

As for the clock, I was surprised when The Creator let his subjects have clocks in their cells. To keep track of time, or for whatever sick reason he has.

12:04 pm. I sigh. I tried to behave last night in the test lab, I really did. Just so I could be let out today at noon to check in with Amber, my best friend. 

Looks like none of the scientists quite enjoyed my screaming.

Eventually, I doze off.

Lights from the ceiling flicker in to my eyes, waking me up. I check the clock. I wasn't asleep for very long. 

12:34 pm.

Then I hear the door to my cell being pried open. I hear footsteps, as a scientist walks in.

I stand up, with my arms crossed behind my back. "Ma'am?"

The scientist reply's stiffly. 

"No. 1092, please make your way to the canteen." I start with surprise.

"I apologize no. 1092, but today we're severely understaffed, and forgot to let you out."

Oh, that was it. So I could talk to Amber. "Thank's ma'am."

I walk past her, at a respectful distance, making my way to the canteen.

Thats how things worked around here. It wasn't the mistreatment that made this place h1ll. No, it was the isolation. 

Some made the mistake of struggling, and some would be stupid enough to keep acting tough, above The Creator. Like I said I've been here awhile, and I've seen the ups and downs of this place, to know you've got to play it smart.

Never talk back to any of the scientists. It would result in extreme punishments, sometimes even the striker.

Direct and indirect criticism against The Creator, would result in permanent isolation.

Many have made that mistake. I hear them every night from the corner of my cell, no matter how hard I try to block out their screams.

Isolation, especially permanently, and in a place like this, often results in insanity.

I hear sounds of hushed conversation, and I'm brought back to reality as I head in.

I immediately spot Amber, sitting in a far corner with another girl with short blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes. Both of them looked worried.

I approach them, and sit down next to Amber.

"Hey." I mumble. They both look at me with immense relief on their faces.

"Thank god your alright Nyx, I thought something happened to you." she whispered shakily.

I shake my head. "They just forgot to let me out, that's all." I turn to the other girl. "Who's this?"

"This is Talia, she was brought in last night when you were in the test lab."

"Hey." I mumble. I was never good in front of new people. 

"Hi.." she reply's, looking equally uncomfortable.

"How old are you, you look young."

She gulps. "I...I'm fourteen."

I grip the table, controlling my fury. I knew I was only 4 years old when I was taken in, but I hated it when The Creator brought young subjects in to the lab.

"I offered her to come talk with us, maybe we can all be friends." Amber states.

"Maybe."

Suddenly, a loud blaring alarm sounds throughout the room. I hear screaming, everyone pushing to leave back to their cells.

I leap up, beckoning to Amber, and Talia, who looked scared. 

Amber turned to her. "Talia, the alarm sounds usually when theres a severe maintenance issue, or when a.......one of the dangerous experiments escape." 

Talia by now is shaking, pale as snow. 

"Come on." I say, briskly. "We can't afford to stand around any longer."

We leave the room, when a couple of scientists approach us, armed with guns.

I move in front of Amber and Talia, shielding them.

"We're heading to our cells, whatever's causing this, it's not us."

They hesitate, but eventually lower their guns, running of in the other direction without a word.

We race to our cells, hoping that whatever's wrong, we can make it back before we get caught in the fray.