dead

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this story contains graphic descriptions of violence. continue :)

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aria♡

September first, 1964

I shivered in my cage. The screams of the tortured girls were thick in the air. They echoed down the halls and made their way to our cells. This wasn't meant for humans. I was in an experiment lab. Don't ask me why they can't just use models to test on. Pretty ridiculous. I mean, why would these psycho scientists want to experiment on average adults?

Because this isn't benefitting anyone. It's torture. And I hope to get out alive.

"I think they're going to kill us all." The girl in the cage next to mine whispered.

I felt sorry for her. She was only 14 and she had just arrived yesterday. I was 20 years old, and I'd been here since I was nine. When my 13 year old mother walked out on me and my 15 year old dad didn't want me, life got hard.

Then, I was sent to an orphanage with no other remaining family members. The men who run this facility adopted me when I was nine. I never knew about this place until I turned 15. My once loving father figures had shown me who they really were, and I've been locked up in this cage ever since.

"They won't kill us. They just want to experiment on us." I say.

"Some of the girls die in the experiments." She says.

"Well, true. But, what's your name?" I ask.

"Jane." The girl smiles.

"I'm Aria." I say.

A recently tortured girl enters the room that some of us are being held in. She can't be older than 12, and she's covered in bruises and shaking. I watch as she gets back into her cage. Tears slip out of my eyes, I'll never get used to this. It doesn't matter how long I'm here.

The psycho scientist that seemed completely normal when he adopted me enters the room. I cry harder. I'll never get over what happened to me, no matter how many years go by.

"Aria Greene?" The scientist asks.

Great, more work out in the snow. I rattle the bars of my filthy cage. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but sometimes we are forced to do back breaking work out in the snow. Sometimes we get tortured. Sometimes we get experimented on. Sometimes we die.

"Right here." I say.

He opens the door to my cage and grabs my hand, pulling me down a hallway. We soon arrive at a room that's one of the torture rooms they have. A metal surgical bed covered with blood, whips, shackles, different liquids to be injected into our veins, needles, canes, and knives are things that make up this room.

I sit down and wait for the cruel bite of the whip as the evil man takes a whip off of a peg on the wall. After a few lashes, which barely even effect me because I'm used to it, something new is happening.

"Lay down. We are trying something new." The psycho says.

I know I'm going to get experimented on for the first time, and it's not a first I ever wanted to have. He fills a syringe with bright orange liquid.

"Please don't do this. You used to be Dad. You cared about me. I didn't do anything wrong, just please, please, please don't experiment on me!" I beg.

"I never cared about you. I've been waiting for this moment for more than 10 years, and you are not about to ruin it." The evil man says.

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