Imperfection

Imperfection Chapter 2:

Chapter 2:

Someone has their fingers around my wrist. I don't know whose they are because it's too dark in my bedroom to see a thing but I know for sure they're fingers. All I see is black; there is no point in keeping my eyes open. The fingers are covered in rubber? Latex? They're damp and clammy even through the rubbery cover. I think I feel a thumb rubbing over my ID chip, gently at first then very firmly.

"Get it off her," I hear a man's voice and it takes me a moment to realize what was going on. They're here for me.

I'm still for a second, curious to see what they'll but when I feel something sharp poke into my wrist, I begin to roll my shoulders trying to pull away.

"Hold down her shoulders," Comes the different voice and sure enough a pair of hands is set firmly on my shoulders. The hands are strong, much stronger than I expected and if I try to pull away now, I’ll just dislocate my shoulder. The sharp object pushes into my wrist, wiggling its way under my chip. The cut sends waves of inferno pain through my bloodstream and I can sense blood dripping from my wrist down to bed. My heart is pumping so fast, so hard I can almost hear the blood gushing in my veins. I'm trying to hard not to scream. I’m trying so hard not to wake the whole of Section D and have them all find out about what I am. A massive cry is balled up in my throat, kicking and slashing at the walls, desperate to betray me. A tear runs down my cheek and drops onto my pillow case, absorbed by the cotton fabric in seconds. I feel the skin on my wrist stretch and tear once more before the empty feeling settles in. Bye-bye I.D chip. Bye-bye old life. Bye-bye Beta.

The second voice lets out a humorless laugh. "She slept through all that? There's really something wrong with this one, isn't there?" 

My hands ache to reach up for his neck and strangle his false humor out of him.

"They seem to be getting worse these days," The first man sighed. "They're getting more screwed up by the minute. It's pretty sad actually,"

"How cute," The second voice was louder now, making his sarcastic tone sound even snottier. "You actually pity the very things that are going to bring down our society,"

"I don't pity them. I pity how we haven't gotten rid of them for good. Disgusting, aren't they?"

Crimson anger penetrates the black of my closed eye lids.

One more word and I'll blow.

"Yeah, really. Her poor Caretakers will be overjoyed in the morning when they find out that they don't have this thing as a child anymore," 

My eyelids pull away from each other and I sit up abruptly.

"Oh, it's alive," One of them says, laughing a bit.

I touch my wrist only to feel my own blood, cool and watery. The scream in my throat is now a ball of pure rage.

I know in a second it'll force itself out with such passion and strength that it could just as well be a fireball. 

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The scream crawls its way up my throat and pries my lips open.

I didn't even know my voice could be so loud. 

The two men are trying to cover my mouth, to shut me up. The feeling of their hands on my body is horrendous.

I thrash my arms around, shaking my torso so much it hurts. I'm kicking with all of my strength but even that doesn't seem to be enough.

"Sedate her!" One of the men says, at this point I really don't care who.

I hear glass gently clinking against glass.

"Hold her head still!"

A hand grabs my chin and holds it steady. The hand is strong, so much stronger than me. Something is forced between my lips and almost down my throat by blood-covered fingers. I don't even know what it is at first then I notice the familiar feeling of it going down my throat. A pill. 

As I am forced to swallow it an eerie silence settles over the room. When the pill is down I open my mouth to scream some more but I can’t. My throat is raw and the taste of bloody fingers has made itself at home on my tongue. I let out a hoarse cry but that is all I can do. My triceps and biceps are now too tight to move. My heart rate is dropping fast, much too fast to be natural. No. I cannot slow down. I cannot just give up. Never. But tonight, I can't go on. My heart rate is lower than it's ever been. I'm hardly breathing. My head is a cloud of thick, moist fog. How could this happen so suddenly?

"She's still conscious," a voice says.

"She'll pull under soon," a voice says.

"She needs to be killed first," a voice says.

I want to scream more, but the fog in my mind has become too thick. My body is no longer under my control.