Albino Child

Thirteen

I lay in a daze, deprived of the ability to move, I felt rough pleather restraints push into my skin causing irritation, frustrated by my lack of movement I tried to exercise my vocal chords but failed to do so- what was affecting me do so was most likely some kind of substance preventing me from opening my mouth, there was nothing touching my mouth but some kind of contracting object that had clamped my lips together, they were stuck and I could not do anything about it- the sides of my mouth had saliva dripping upon round-ended hooks of metal pulling the slit sideways, it was widened and not entirely unpleasant- the pain was not in any way stimulating however it was not exactly untraceable; this all happened because I had unfortunately I had been caught and cornered due to the unfair cheating from the other children, this current positioning was not really connected to the game we were playing earlier, I was pretty sure that 'It' did not involve the 'Itter' being cornered into a room in which the power word, 'It', was not obeyed, but this new variation was rather fun- I was recklessly cautious as to find as to what was to happen after I was impolitely strapped to the iron table, they did a crude job for there were loose buckles that would have made escaping such a simple task, the predominance of the children looked at me fearfully- just two looked at my body without fear of what my capabilities could create, they were unaware of the amount of chaos I could cause, the pure hatred that could manifest and warp an innocent game into a hellish torture- I growled playfully at the fingers and limbs that came that tad too close, snapping canine jaws at them in an amusing manner.

"What are you going to do to me," I questioned rhetorically in my sing-song attitude, "This'll no fun if you won't make it suspenseful or something."

My voice became slurred as I decided to create theatrical drama, a final truth about the victim, I chuckled- choking upon the acid reflux that was caused by a sudden sharp binding in my stomach band, I impishly smiled back, weakly sticking my tongue at them as I began to recite random bundles of words that rolled loosely up my laryngopharynx:

"You took her away, this place took them all away and now I am all alone, I am sick of all of this, I am sick of remembering what happened, I am sick on not being like the mundane others, I am sick of being able to know what really happened, I am sick of all the silence, I am sick of all the noise, I am sick of the clutter; I am infected because of you people, you are a disease on those who were brought up because of him and he saved himself and let us to pay for his choice. You know, we were a distraction, a mere experiment, we were batches of the results of his ideas," I began to bubble with bitter irritation, "This is all your fault, what happened to you is a result of me and yes, I am sorry, you are just reproduction of me and no, that was not my fault, I just happened to be a part of the chosen ones, my batch were the ones he wanted not anyone else; I did not choose to be alive, if anything I wish I could have burned and be condemned to resting peace. If anything, it is my fault that this all happened, if I had not been me but anyone else this would have never happened, just because I was personal to him, I was granted to live, just because his ties with me were strong enough but they were never strong enough. It was not enough to save her, not enough to spare one life, the one life I genuinely cared about, you stole her away from me."

"We did nothing, we were not around then." One of the children murmured with frightened distaste.

"I know," I replied equally soft, I was no longer on that high of serotonin, dopamine and adrenaline- I had calmed down now as they injected melatonin into my bloodstream, "I was about him, the creator, the God."

"I was aware," an unusually clipped voice broke in.

It sounded foreign, I was not expecting such a mature voice from the children- It hit me, it was not them, it was really him, the God of my life, the dictator that marked the end of her, the first and last stain on my life, the burden of knowing that she would never come back, I would have never expected him to return to here however, the shards became to connect with each other in a logical sense: he must have been the writer, the reason- on then, now and later- I thought I had fully broke free from his grip but I was incorrect, he was still puppeteering my actions just as before, the only difference now was that I was not aware of his control in these recent times, I groaned lowly through the gagging restraints, why was I so pathetically foolish, how did I not even begin to realise till the actual moment of happening-