We're Broken People

Chapter One

I awoke with a start, sitting up abruptly in my cot. The mattress was drenched in sweat, and the sheets were thrown about the floor. Another nightmare, one for every night this week. Jumping out of bed, my feet hit the cold floor. My mind was awake and searching for a piece of chalk, a useful tool in this place.

After only seconds, my hand was wrapped around the chalk and scratching yet another tally on the wall. Two-hundred sixty-seven now. Nightmares had taken control of my sleep, filling my head with darkness. The last time they stalked me, I ended up here. Great white walls, no freedom, and experiments. The horror filled my bones every day I survived.

Pacing about the room, my footsteps echoing, I pondered of what today held in store for me. Oh the usual, I joked with myself.

Marshall, the ever cocky guard, began a sexist conversation on how only women were insane enough to be here. His life revolved around tormenting me. Marshall's last remark was always, "Some birds are meant to be caged," in a singsong voice. Well, more like a dying whale voice considering he is a 300 pound, balding, short male. A real riot.

Then, he delivered me to my tests. The scientists were determined my 'condition' was hereditary, however, they never called my parents in to have a simple blood test. I was the experiment, poked and prodded like a dead insect. Since I have arrived, my life has become a treatment.

Chemicals twisted my DNA, so I no longer look like the spawn of my parents, but a colorful stain in humanity. My eyes became a dark, cloudy blue always bursting with storms; my hair became light orange, like the beginning of a fire, a spark. I've been changed so much, I can't even remember how I started. I have no way of returning to my old life.

....

My arms were stinging and bruising. Another round of experiments filled up my morning, and my body was burning from the new chemicals. It was all I could do to concentrate on the white walls rather than the pain. As I sat their, alone on my bed, thinking of freedom, a knock came to the door.

A high pitched voice flew to my ears, "Sweetie, your savior has come!" Still staring at the wall, I heard her heels click all the way to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could barely see her. Scarlet, the therapist, hired to help me cope with this 'nightmare'. Her job was to speak encouraging to me and tell me the monsters would leave soon. After 12 years of hearing the lie, I've come to know the truth. They would never leave.

"Honey," Scarlet began, her tongue clicking, "If you don't listen, you will never learn how to be free." I could almost hear the fake frown on her face. "Won't you let me help you?"

My response was only silence.

Clearing her throat, she continued.

"Listen to me, Gwen. You deserve a better life than this. You and I both know that. Just let me help you." She sashayed over to me, dusting off my bed before sitting down next to me.

"I'm here to talk." Her tone was hardly soothing. "Talk to me, Gwen." Scarlet's breath wafted over to me, filling up my nostrils with strong mint. Eyes watering, I turned to her. She was a sight to see.

Scarlet's bleached blonde hair stood atop her head in ruffles. Not a strand out of place. Her face was two coats of lipstick away from looking like a clown, complete with blushed cheeks and bright pink eye shadow. The dress was even more magnificently hideous.

A green leaf pattern sewn together made up the top, which hardly held in her chest, while a light green silk material was gathered to make a lengthy bottom. Ankle length, no straps, and covered by a stark white lab coat. Scarlet was a walking rainbow.