Mirage (The Great Wattpad Write-Off)

Eugenesis

It's amazing how you can suddenly realize that everything you've ever known is false. This thought circles around my brain, an inescapable mantra, as I sit on the E-Track, trapped by four government officials. The day didn't start off like this, though.

I woke up in my room. It was a pretty plain room, with white walls and a dresser, and that's about it. I always liked to keep things simple. I went downstairs to get breakfast, which was controlled and issued by the Food Commission. Except my entire family—four of them—were already eating, and there wasn't another package of food. As I walked down the stairs, all eyes focused on me. My mom's eyes grew in shock. My brother crossed his arms. My sister looked confused. And my dad had a fierce glare that pierced through the room.

"Um-um, hi," I stammered, unappreciative of all the attention.

"Who are you?" my dad demanded coldly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled. "I'm Samantha. Your daughter?"

My mom shook her head. "We don't have another daughter."

"Honey," my dad turned to my mom—at least, I thought they were my parents—and gave her a look. She nodded and hurried over to a wall, where there was a giant button protected by a case. I knew very well what the button did: it notified the monitor of our quarter.

"I don't understand," I said, my voice cracking slightly at the end. "How could you guys forget me?" They shifted awkwardly, obviously uninterested in sustaining conversation with their daughter.

Within a few minutes, the monitor showed up at the door, and my mother eagerly let him in. My father's gaze never left me as I stood awkwardly, waiting for something to happen.

"Thank you for coming, sir," my dad greeted him with a handshake, finally taking his focus off of me.

The monitor was serious, yet still friendly. "My pleasure. What can I do for you this morning?" Everyone's eyes shifted over to me. My brother and sister stayed at the table, too afraid to move, it seemed.

"There is a girl who claims to be our daughter," my dad informed the man. Surely he was my father after all. "We don't know where she came from or who she is. We only have two children." He gestured over to the table.

The monitor slowly walked toward me. He had a slow and confident stride, easily asserting dominance over us mere citizens. "What's your name?" he asked, looking down on my short figure.

"Samantha. Winford," I replied. He pulled out a tablet from his satchel and typed something in. He looked confused. Then he typed something else in. His face immediately lifted up in recognition, and he looked at me. "Could you please excuse us?" he asked, and I nodded, because you can't disagree with someone with authority. The monitor led my parents to another room and shut the door, but I could hear them talking in hushed tones. My siblings just sat there staring at me.

"She has the same last name as us," my mom told the other two inside the next room. "What did you find about her?"

An audible sigh came from the monitor's voice. "She's confused."

"I don't see what there is to be confused about," my father's snappy voice came next. "She's not our daughter."

"She's a mental patient," he explained, and they both gasped. I whipped my head around to look at my siblings, and their eyes were wide with fear. "I'm going to contact authorities."

The group returned from the room and the monitor came over to me. "We're going to get some friends to come talk to you, okay? You can tell them all about what you remember." His tone had dramatically changed to as if he were talking to a six-year-old, and it angered me.