Experimented On

Lylia's Story

My name is Lylia Cabern, I have light pink eyes, long curly black hair, and I am 17. It has been 9 years since I was taken, and I only know that because my phone tells me happy birthday every year. Actually today is my birthday, September 27. But there is nothing happy about it. 

I am locked in a dark room, the only light is the small candle next to me. I have been locked in this same room for 8 of the 9 years. The first year I was taken my captors traveled around trying to find the perfect place to hide me. While they traveled I was always blond folded so I didn't know where I was. 

I still remember the day I was taken, I was only 8 years old at the time. My life was perfect and my parents loved me. Until the night they came, we had come home late from the movies. We walked into our small house and there was a letter placed on the coffee table. My mother opened it and as she read it her hand went to her mouth as her eyes teared up. My father took the letter and read through it, he then threw it on the floor and scooped me up. He placed me on the floor by the bed and looked in my eyes as he blinked away tears. 

"Lylia you need to hide under the bed in the secret space, ok?" 

"But what's wrong daddy? Why are you and mommy crying?" I was so naive back then. 

"Some men are coming to talk to me and mommy. And they can't see you because they are evil and will want to take you from us." He wiped a tear away. "So will you hide until we tell you to come out?" 

I nodded, my pig tails bobbing. He smiled and kissed my forehead. Then I crawled under the bed, but instead of going in the secret space, I lay there. I watched my father's feet as he crossed over to my mother. It was only moments later when someone was banging on the door. 

My father let them in and four men walked in. They started asking questions and my father kept replying he didn't know. That's when they started yelling. I heard glass break and my mother started sobbing. 

"Where is she!" One of the men yelled at my father. 

"I don-" his voice was cut off and I heard a soft thump. My mother screamed and everything went quiet as another thump sounded. I scooted further under the bed but didn't go into the secret space. 

I heard furniture being knocked over and things being rummaged trough but I stayed silent. My heart raced as a pair of boots stopped in front of the bed. The man leaned down and looked directly at me. I squeaked and he reached under the bed and grabbed my arm. He dragged me out and stood up still holding my arm. 

I screamed and tried to pull away, but my 8 yer old strength wasn't as strong as his grip. "Well look what I found." He called out to the others. They gathered around with smirks on their faces. 

"We've got what we came for let's go." The man that spoke must have been their leader. 

The man holding me picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. I screamed and kicked my legs but it didn't seem to bother him. He carried me through the house toward the door. And what I saw made me stop fighting. My father lay on the floor in a puddle of blood, his throat slit. My mother looked exactly the same but she was lying on her back. 

They carried me out of the building and put me in a black car. That's when they blind folded me. After that night I never saw my parents again.  

The reason I am writing this is because I hope someone will find it. So at least someone will know I am alive. I hope that someday someone will save me. Or at least that someone will know my story.  

I don't know why they took me or why I am still here. But I know they don't want to harm me or they would have already. 

I must finish this letter now, I hear them coming. They come once every week and inject a glowing liquid into my arm. It doesn't hurt but it does help me see in the dark. I almost wonder if I am an experiment, if they thought only I could survive their tests. Well whatever the reason I'm just glad they haven't tortured or killed me. I must be really lucky. 

My name is Lylia Cabern and this is my story. A story that could happen to anyone. This is the end of my letter now as I blow out the candle. This is the last chance I have to get my story out and I hope someone, no, I hope you find it. Don't forget me, please don't forget me.