Human turned Werewolf (Extremely slow updates)

Chapter 4

Six-two-six's POV

My body protests as I'm led by Coltan to the 'Relaxation Room.' Ever since they started the new testing, they have been uncharacteristically nice to me and I don't understand why. I mean for so long they've been nothing but evil and cruel, so I'm a little thrown off by their kind actions. But despite my suspicion, I can't help feeling that maybe, just maybe, things have changed but I also know that is unlikely. For the past couple of weeks, everything has been surprisingly. . . pleasant, I've been getting three full course meals a day even some snacks, which are a pleasant addition. Though I still can't help the nagging feeling that these changes and odd events won't last forever.

Better enjoy them while they last, right?

It isn't long before we get to the room known as the "Relaxation room," I watch with dread as Coltan places his eye near the scanner causing the door to slide open with a hiss, "Welcome to the Relaxation Room" An enthusiastic automatic voice says.

"All right, get in," Coltan says none too nicely.

I frown at his rudeness and scowl at the "Relaxation Room's" Interior. The inside of the room is designed to be as cheerful as possible. The walls are a bright yellow, the floor is covered by a light pink carpet that's littered in bright hot pink flowers with yellow centers. The furniture is an orange color, the table and chairs are all different shades of green ranging from the lightest of greens to the darkest of the greens. Sitting on top of every table are red vases filled with flowers ranging from different shades of turquoise and blue, the walls are lined with every shelf and picture frame in every color known to man. The picture frames are filled with portraits of people smiling. . . smiles that seem to be forced and quite painful.

"Get in there!" Coltan says pushing me into the room, causing me to stumble onto my knees.

Looking up from my kneeling position, I glance in time to see the door sliding shut, did I mention the door has a rainbow painted on it with a smiley face in the center of it. Yeah, definitely cringe-worthy. Pushing myself up from the overly pink carpet, I make my way over to the two-seater orange couch, I frown at the fact I'll be stuck here in this room for the next three hours. Taking a seat on the couch I pull my legs to my chest; trying to disappear and become as small as humanly possible.I don't want to be here, I will rather be back in my cell, away from everyone. The others aren't like me, I don't know how but I can just tell; they all smell. . . different. As weird as that may sound it's the truth and their scents are telling me not to trust any of them. And judging by the different scents in the room there are several different monsters here. I'm not really sure what type of monsters they are and I rather not find out. Call me a coward if you will but I will rather be safe than sorry; why even poke the bear and risk getting eaten when you can just leave it be as it is.

Peeking up from over my knees I watch the others idling by as if all is well the world, like the normal people going about their normal lives. But they're not, they don't have anything remotely normal about themselves to act as such. So why, why do they! I don't understand! I cannot understand! What do they have, what do they see to not be affected by what we are all going through!? They laugh and talk as if everything is normal but it's not. Nothing about us is normal we're all monsters, we'll never be accepted by anyone. The thoughts racing through my head make me start to scratch at the bandages that are wrapped around my arms.The last form of testing they performed, aside from the electric shock test, they did a fire resistance test. Pouring gasoline onto my arms to see how fast the burns will heal, to say it was painful would be an understatement; it was gut-wrenching. The bandages were fresh this morning but are now showing signs of the wounds reopening. My arms itch as the cells and skin begin to repair what was once healed, I fight the urge to scratch my arms until they're caked in fresh blood.