Colorful shadows

Volume IV

Anubis's POV

Two weeks later...

Blood. Blood all over. Red from the blood covering my face and black from the darkness out the room is all I can see. Every day I scream. It feels like it's getting darker. All I've known during this time is pain. Pain from the experiments. Pain from the endless screaming and pleading for help with no rescue. It is like... No; It is my personal hell. Fitting for a monster like me. I can't even attempt to keep track of how long it's been since I've been here. There are no windows, no light from the outside, just me hunched over with the blood and leftover residue from whatever he is injecting me with and the evergrowing darkness of this room.  What does he want? What does he keep injecting in me? Why does he take so much blood from me? What does he need it for? Why can't he just kill me so I do have to bear any more scars or lacerations? It's just like he said. I am going to die here. 

Suddenly as I think of all my past mistakes, my past times of happiness, my promises to my family, I start to sit up from the chair and lift my head with what once of determination and fight I have in me. No! I will not die. I will not die here. Not here. Not yet. I have to find my brother. I know he's out there. I have to escape. The next time he enters, I'll kill him. I will kill him and walk out of this place and blow it to hell. I hear him walking in.

He walks in and grabs the needle filled with the regular injections he uses and gives me a shot. The same shot he gives me every time he comes in here. But this time it's different. The pain is usually immeasurable but this time it doesn't even hurt. I don't feel anything. I can't give it away. I have to act as if it hurts. I have to play dead. I let out an agony-ridden scream. I screamed until I pretended to pass out. My body goes limp and weirdly enough, my heart stops breathing. This never happened before. What is this? How am I still conscience? Before I can even react, the doctor examines me and feels for a pulse. 

"Well, he's dead. That's what happens when you experience two weeks of torture. Now I have to throw away the body" he says talking to himself without any ounce of emotion. 

He unlocks the chair, grabs me by the arm, and drags my body from my writs. This is my chance! 

I use all of my strength to grab his and hands and pull him down and he falls to the ground and leaves a couple of cracks on the concrete floor.  This is the only time he's gonna do this. I stand up. I almost forgot how it feels to stand and walk. I look for something sharp. I see a knife on the floor. The same knife he used for his operations. He must've dropped it when I slammed him. As I see him attempt to get up, I punch him and his mask and he falls. I hurry to the knife and grab it. I look at him with anger. The anger I felt for all this time. All this hatred I felt as a person. I walk up to him, grab him, and stab him in the head. As I feel the life leave from his body, so does the anger I felt. Now they are replaced with so many emotions. The sadness, the fear, the hatred I feel for myself. I just killed someone. 

As I begin questioning these feelings that I am experiencing, I hear something. It sounds distant. Does it sound like crying?...