alters

12

HOLMES CHAPEL ENGLAND
1992

MY dad is a scientist, or was a scientist. But not the normal kind, the kind that did experiments on people. He was one of those delusional scientists that thought they could improve the human race with chemicals and shit.

ʻʻDimitri,ʼʼ Dr. Lawrence said quietly, lowering her head.

Dimitri Styles glanced up, startled. He chuckled nervously. ʻʻOh, Dr. Lawrence, sorry but I have to runーʼʼ

ʻʻMr. Styles, wait.ʼʼ She stepped closer, lessening the proximity between them.

ʻʻNo,ʼʼ He snapped and abruptly turned his back. He absolutely refused to listen to her absurd suggestion again.

ʻʻYou already gave one child to us for science, whatʼs one more?ʼʼ She innocently shrugged.

ʻʻAre you kidding me? My wife would hang me from the ceiling if I came to her with that excuse. I wonʼt give you him. I wonʼt give you Harry.ʼʼ

ʻʻMr. Styles...ʼʼ

He began walking away.

ʻʻItʼs come to our attention...ʼʼ

His hand touched the door handle.

ʻʻ...that money is tight for you these days.ʼʼ

He paused. Dr. Lawrence grinned to herself. She had him. He was an easily persuaded man.

ʻʻWe will pay you handsomely for your son the day he is born. There are few scientists in our program, even fewer who have children on the way.ʼʼ She continued, pacing with her hands locked behind her back.

ʻʻYouʼre insane,ʼʼ Dimitri hissed, jerking around to stare her down.

ʻʻWe have thirteen scientists who are willing to go with our program. Since it is a classified case we cannot include anyone outside of our little...club.ʼʼ She audaciously chuckled. ʻʻYouʼre our only hope, Dimitri, for this experiment to be successful.ʼʼ

He glared at the floor, hard and long. Mr. Styles gazed at her piercing eyes, and whispered, ʻʻHow...much?ʼʼ

ʻʻHm?ʼʼ

ʻʻHow much money?ʼʼ He breathed defeated.
Pain, regret, and hurt coursed through him like venom in his veins. But what else could he do? He was soon to be evicted and thrown out onto the streets with his wife and unborn child. He hadnʼt even met the baby before, so what could be the harm.

ʻʻMore than you can imagine. Plus,ʼʼ She smiled sympathetically. ʻʻIn exchange, the science program will grant you back your daughter. Experiment free.ʼʼ

ʻʻShe doesnʼt even know who I am.ʼʼ He said quietly, brokenly.

ʻʻSheʼll learn.ʼʼ

He sighed. It was already decided.

My dad have me up when I was three weeks old. I donʼt know how my mum would have felt about it, but I can imagine she was pissed. At least...they had their daughter back, though.

So, growing up, all I knew was torture. Painful experiments were performed on me daily, and from all the trauma, side effects started.

ʻʻMake them stop! Make them go away!ʼʼ Three year old Harry screamed, clamping two tiny palms against his underdeveloped ears. It was as if all the world was flushed and refilled with pounding, screaming voices.

No one was around to assist him, he was left alone in this broken, painful existence. A mere toddler suffering torture that a grown man wouldnʼt be able to handle. He screamed and screamed, calling for the father he never knew.

Finally, what seemed like hours later, white clad adults streamed into the large, empty room. Harry was a trembling, sweaty wreck curled up helpless on the cold floor, crying out for help. Dr. Lawrence squatted down, gently resting a comforting hand against his small shoulder. Instantly at her touch he jumped up. When his eyes fell on the looming woman, his whole body jutted out, his slender arms wrapping tightly around her skinny waist.

ʻʻMummy, make them go away,ʼʼ He whimpered. Dr. Lawrence pressed against his chest, softly guiding him back slightly.

ʻʻMake who go away, Harry?ʼʼ She asked him quietly. He looked up at the woman he knew as his mother, searching for the safe haven he would never be granted.

Dr. Lawrence insisted that I refer to her as my mum. She wasnʼt, of course, but she thought that if I had a parent of some sort, someone to look up to, Iʼd have a reason to stay strong. Something to keep me going. If I became too weak to endure the experiments, I would be useless and most likely...just die. So, for three years, I thought she was really my mum.

ʻʻMake who go away, Harry?ʼʼ She repeated with urgency. Not out of care, rather out of research issues.

Harry folded his flexible body up in some way only a contortionist could manage, screaming and forcing his hands against his ears so roughly that blood began to drip from the lobes.

ʻʻHarry, let Mummy help you.ʼʼ Lawrence nearly demanded of the disturbed boy, as he lay a psychotic mess on the ground.

ʻʻThe voices! The voices! The voices!ʼʼ He wailed on repeat, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

ʻʻWhat are the voices telling you?ʼʼ She begged him to respond. For hours this process continued, with no advancing results. Harry merely continued his mantra: the voices. The voices. Make them stop. Make them go away.

And then, the day after I turned four years old, it worked.

ʻʻHarry...?ʼʼ

The experiment, it actually bloody worked. No one thought it would be possibleーand in only four years. The doctors couldnʼt believe it.

ʻʻHarry? Wave your arm if you can understand me.ʼʼ The infant in front of her responded instantly by angrily throwing his chubby arm back and forth.

I had the ability for my conscientiousness to enter a corpse.

ʻʻHe understands! Itʼs working! The experiment worked!ʼʼ

The only problem was I had to kill the person. I have absolutely no idea why...but with a little encouragement from my dear old mummy, I murdered ten infants. And each time I successfully entered their dead bodies. She said that...that they werenʼt really alive. She said it would be okay to kill them. I didnʼt know it was wrong.

So, when I was four, my father finally came to my rescue. He threatened to sell them out to the cops for their deadly experiments. He also managed to buy my freedom. He used the same money he had received four years ago, or so I like to believe. So, he took me home to my mother and my sister. We were finally a family, but I wasnʼt completely...stable.

I was completely mad. Insane. Psycho. I had lost all contact with my sanity, it was as if I wasnʼt even human any more. It was a miracle that I even stayed with them for seven months before my dad gave up and ultimately threw me in a psychiatric hospital. But I managed to escape when I was fourteen.

I have been on the run ever since.

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Wow, hope you made it to the end bc this chap was kinda boring:/ sorrrryyyyy.

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And stay fabulous ya dingus.

ali.