Mutations

November 21-23, 2014

November 21-23, 2014

Through out the next day everyone is giving me pats on the back, saying how cool I am for doing that. A bunch of girls give me their numbers. I throw most of them away since I don't know who they are except for a couple. I also wore a short sleeve shirt today. It's almost seventy degrees, in November. Some seniors made fun of me and called me emo because of all of the cuts on my arm.

I finally turned on my phone after the crash and it blew up with notifications. It says I have twenty-three texts, seventy-two notifications on Instagram and fifty-seven on Twitter. I touch the messaging app first. Most the texts consists of "Hey it's..." or "We should hang out sometime." I delete all the peoples messages that I don't know. A girl named Amber asks me to come to her party tomorrow. I tell her I can't because I already have plans. Which is completely untrue. Several girls sent me texts saying that they just want to have sex with me like, "You can come over my house and we can play with each other," and "My roommate with be out of town next week, I'll have the dorm to myself and we can get real comfy." I delete all of these too. I just delete all of the texts because I don't feel like filtering through them.

I open Instagram next. The orange bar comes up at the bottom on the screen. Twenty-six new followers, forty-three comments and three likes. There are a lot of pictures people posted of me when I was in the car, sitting with Courtney and carrying the baby. A lot of them had nice comments about how good of a person I am and how brave I am. It is the same with Twitter people tweeting pictures and nice comments about me.

I push the door to my apartment open and flick on the light, "Holy shit!" I yell. There is a man standing in the middle of the room.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you," he says lifting his hands in the air. Hundreds of questions storm through my mine.

"Then what do you want?" I don't move from the doorway. The man has dark skin, and a goatee. He's wearing a black trench coat, a grey shirt and black pants.

"I wanted to talk to you about an offer we have for you," he says putting his arms down.

"Who's we?" I ask slowly moving into the room.

"We call ourselves The Station, and we want you to be apart of an experiment," he says walking towards me, I took a step back and he raised his hands again.

"What kind of experiment?"

"I'll explain if you close the door," he say, I make myself believe that he's not going to hurt me and close the door. "Good, we saw what you did yesterday and we think you would be perfect for it," he knows about the car crash, "You and thirty-five others have been chosen to be part of the experiment, who have all committed some heroic act in the last couple years. You are number thirty-six. There are sixteen spots available for testing and all of you will go through a training to see who is the strongest people and they will be tested on."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I am not prohibited to tell you unless you made the top sixteen," he says. I feel like I should go if thirty-five others have already accepted. The only thing that bothers me is not knowing what the experiment is.

"I'll do it," I say out of nowhere. I don't know what made me make that decision but I did.

"Vary well," he says, "Come with me." I follow him out of my apartment and he motions for me to get in the passenger seat of a car. I climb in and he gets in on the drivers side. "I have to give you a shot to put you to sleep because we are not supposed to let you know where you are." He picks up a small cylinder and opens it. It has a small needle on the end and he pricks my neck with it and everything goes dark.