Perfect (Rewrite)

Chapter Fifty Two

Chloe was strapped to the table again. One leaning back, almost holding her in an upright position. She faced a mirror, knowing the other side was a window. This wasn't her first time being spectated, but it was the first time she was allowed to stare right back. Even though she couldn't see whoever was on the other side, she imagined them dead, dropped own on the floor, motionless and stone cold.

A hint of movement in the mirror brought her attention to the door swinging shut. A man dressed in all black wheeled a cart into the room, tools scattered across the top. Some were sharp and some were no more than ordinary items found in a doctor's office, nothing Chloe hadn't seem a million times beforehand. The man left after looking up to her. For once, the man wasn't wearing a mask, but his face wasn't something she had wanted to see. Two thick dark red slashes were on both of his cheeks, fresh blood leaked down them. Had he been punished? Or was this just another trick?

She watched as he left the room, and then her gaze went back to her reflection. Her hair was brushed neatly and put up into a bun, her clothes were scrubs, shaded to a light grey, and the freshly tattooed boxes on her wrist looked irritated. Chloe stared into the mirror, waiting for the right moment to speak.

"Chloe," The hologram woman's voice spoke into the room; Chloe turned to the door. It hadn't opened. A speaker was embedded into the wall next to the door though, and it buzzed through the voices pauses. "How are you feeling?"

Chloe stared at the mirror in front of them. She was on the other side of the glass, staring back at her, Chloe knew this. She knew she was being watched by her and him, the man pulling the strings. This gave her a feeling of discomfort, knowing that eyes were on her, but she couldn't see from exactly where.

"I'm fine," Chloe answered in monotone; she hadn't even realized she was capable of speaking. Her throat felt dry, deprived of water, her stomach grumbled from having not eaten in two days. They needed to watch her carefully; they needed to push her to the limits, to her breaking point.

"Would you like a glass of water?" The speaker boomed and then screeched. Chloe pulled against the restrains to cover her ears, but her arms couldn't move. She yanked hard and then leaned forward, shaking her body violently, uselessly fighting against the straps. Once she fell back and her head slammed against the table, the woman continued, "We will begin testing shortly. Please remain calm and remember, pain makes perfect."

Chloe struggled against the straps again. A red number flashed onto the mirror, counting down from ten. She pulled harder, and then her hand broke free. Chloe removed the other straps before leaping forward and charging the mirror. Her fists banged against it, the timer still counting down. Three. Two. One. Her body fell limp as the electrodes attached to her head shocked her to a state of unconsciousness. She couldn't see, touch, or move. At first there was everything, and then there was nothing.

"What do you think?" The speaker boomed the woman's voice.

"I think she's perfect."