Test Subject One

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Trigger Warning For This Story!!!

Ivan Jones sat high up in the tree, basking in the warm glow of the sun. He felt as if he was on top of the world. Far below, his little sisters played in the grass. Ivan watched as his father came in from the fields and as his mother pulled into the driveway.

Then suddenly the branch gave way. Ivan felt himself racing towards the ground. Vaguely in the distance he could hear his twin sisters calling for help.

And then there was silence.

When Ivan woke up, it took a minute to remember what happened. He could barely recall hitting the ground. Was he dead?

Ivan sat up and looked around. The room he was in was covered with stars. Squinting slightly, he could make out planets. Carefully, Ivan stood up and felt the wall. To his surprise, the wall was painted.  In fact, all the walls were painted. So were the ceiling and the floor! Everywhere in the room had the same seemingly-real galaxy.

Ivan heard a voice outside the room: "Test One almost ready." It was deep like a man's, and the speaker had an evident Russian accent.

Gingerly, Ivan checked around the room, but he couldn't find anything that could be an exit. He turned around. Ivan jumped. Standing there was a tall, muscular man in medical attire. He had a thick brown beard and beady blue eyes.

The man must have sensed Ivan's fear. He calmly introduced himself as Dr. Bravinski, the man with the accent from the hallway. Dr. Bravinski handed Ivan a form to fill out and a pen. Then just like that, he vanished.

Confused, Ivan sat back down on the floor. The paper had standard hospital information. Perhaps he was just in a hospital after all. Ivan began to fill it out with things like his name (Ivan Jones), his age (13), and his "illness" (none?).

Ivan sat still, waiting patiently for Dr. Bravinski to return. What appeared to be one hour of aiting grew into three, and soon, Ivan lost hope.

Ivan devised a plan. Usually a plan is a great thing, but when it comes from a person of the likes of Ivan Jones, that greatness turns sour.

With shaky hands, Ivan lifted the information sheet to his neck. Quickly and carefully, Ivan ran the paper across the flesh of his throat, through as many blood vessels as he could. He felt himself dying.

Out in the hallway, Dr. Bravinski bellowed, "Test Subject One down. Bring Two and Three."

A female coworker inquired, "And the names of these two?"

"Michaela and Molly Jones."

Ivan would have screamed if he could, but he could barely breathe anymore. With fear for the safety of his sisters on Ivan's mind, there was silence once again.

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