Arts, Crafts and a Little Bit of Blood

Prologue

I am part of something known as "The Creativity Experiment."

They don't say that to my face, but I hear them whispering about me. To them, I am little more than an unidentifiable, breathing corpse. They have cut me open, they have sliced me, they have reduced me to little more than nothing, yet here I am, still breathing. If they wanted to kill me, they would have done so already. I don't know why, of all people, I had to be the one stuck with this stupid, stupid power.

4 years, 7 months, 16 days, 11 hours and 25 minutes. That's how long I have been locked away from the world. That's how long I have been violated. That's how long I have been experimented on, hour after hour, day after day.

They don't tell me very much. Although when I first arrived, they gave me a rundown and prettied it all up and wrapped it in a bow, selling a dream and not the nightmare I've been living. They said all the right things, lulling me into a false sense of security. But it was all lies.

"This is a place for people like you. You belong here." They said. Lies. I believed them. That was my mistake.

I was stupid.

Gullible.

An idiot.

I now know there is no one else in the entire world like me.

I'm different.

I'm an anomaly.

And I hate it.