Her

Part Two:

I can see a blinding light through my eyelids. My body winces under the brightness seeping through my eyes and into what soul I have left. There has been so much that has happened... and I remember nothing from Before, except a faded blip of a memory. My mind from Before, is now just an empty cavern of vastness that fills the heavy weight upon my shoulders. From my last 'happening', something with a girl, I had been taken. Since then, everything has been awful. I have been  examined on a hard, non-forgiving table. I am an experiment to them.

It feels like years of torture: non-stop tests, like running, on metal spikes, until I can't breathe or bleed any more, holding my head under chemicals mixed with water until the fiery liquid burns my lungs, and so much more. I have overheard them talking, the Torturers. They want to see what I can do, but I am not the type of person they are looking for. They say my DNA is wrong and they are going to try and fix it soon. My body, what was once beautiful, has become a wasted, over worked shell that can barely hang on. 

Somewhere in the distance, in a place far beyond this bright light and the countless times of torture, I hear a noise. Quiet at first, but getting louder, like something swinging open. I recognize this- but from where? I rack what I can from the emptiness of my skull- but come up with nothing. But then, smaller tapping noises follow... Aha! Footsteps! And the swinging must've been a door! Ha! Those monsters can't take away everything...

Suddenly I feel a presence over me, and the light is somewhat blocked, but still inevitably bright. 

"Open your eyes." A harsh machine voice- one that I was on listening terms too well with-commands me. I obey, and feel my eyes painfully bulge, and my pupils expand then go back to normal. I fight the urge to close my eyes to prevent from going blind, but I do not for fear that a buzzing shock will rattle my weak bones; a shock that I have scars all over my body from.

My eyes finally focus and I quickly scan the room, as I have trained myself to do, to know if I am going to be killed or not. I notice a stainless-steel cart next to the table I am strapped on to, near enough to see but far enough that I cannot reach it. I feel hard leather straps over my naked body bearing into my lower shins, thighs, lower arms, and chest.

Luckily, to save what embarrassment I have left of my scarred shell, they have covered me and the straps with a white sheet, tucked in cleanly. White sheet, not black! That means they aren't going to kill me! Although it probably wouldn't make a difference. I look back at the stainless-steel cart and notice some metal tools. One of those mirror things a dentist puts in your mouth, (I recognize from a recent doctor that had visited), a pointy thing that does not look friendly, a knife, some sort of metal stick with cotton on the end, and some others that I don't know how to describe. Everything else is white, and the unbearable light from above me reflects off of it. I finally look straight up, and see a male wearing a white lab coat looking down on me. 

"I am going to examine you as one of your final tests before you... well... move on." He states in a monotone voice. I jump a little at hearing another human voice. The doctors rarely speak to me because they are too busy poking and prodding different parts of my body.

He then proceeds to pull out a drawer from underneath the surface of the table I am strapped to, and takes out some scissors. The Torturer's hands move towards my head with the scissors and he starts to chop off my long beautiful hair that I had once treasured. I feel each soft strand of my auburn, wavy hair leave my head.

Once it is cut, to I'm sure a few inches longer than a buzz, he places the scissors back and retrieves a small pot of steaming something and some small sheets of cloth. It smells familiar but I can't remember. He lifts back the sheet to my naval and forcefully pulls my arms out from under the straps. Waxing! I remember! Awh, crap I remember this hurts, too! It will most likely feel like sleeping though compared to everything else I have been forced to endure.  After waxing my legs and arms, he puts my arms back and takes out materials and more metal tools to work on me. Why does he even have to do this?!

"What is that?" I croak. It has been so long since I have uttered audible words that it makes my throat hurt.

I am shell-shocked when he actually replies with an answer of, "It is medicine that will put you to sleep because they don't want you awake during the next part of the examination."

"Who doesn't?" I question.

"It does not matter. Now be quiet and let me put this over your face."

I feel a cloth, smothered thick with some sort of liquid, press over my nose and mouth. The Torturer wraps a strip of medical tape around it, so it will not fall off.

My mind goes sort of gushy after that, and all I remember before slipping off into the abyss of la-la-land yet again is the doctor saying, "Nighty Night.". Then all hell and heaven broke loose at the same time.