Story Ideas For Later ??

we have control

I dont think I remember everything that happens to me, But I know that the things I have experienced will never fully leave my mind.

My country was an active war zone. That's how it all started.

I was around 7 when I died for the first time, I believe. Men wearing dark uniforms came into the town square and demanded that everyone allow  them entrance into their house for supplies and shelter.
"What about us?" An old woman cried, "we are already a poor town as it is! We cannot afford to feed both you and us! Let alone shelter you as well!"

I saw the man in front raise his gun to her as my mama quickly covered my eyes from behind. Though I didnt see it, I heard the distinct cocking of a gun and one shot being fired.

After that there was only chaos.

Me and mama ran back to the house, her pulling me along as fast as my young body could take me. Though, as I learned on that fateful summer day, it wasnt fast enough.

A small group of men quickly cought up with us. Mama instsied that we keep running, though her voice was shaky and unsure. The men did not like that. If there is one thing I have learned in my life; its is that men do not like when they are disobeyed.

I felt the shot before I heard it. The white hot pain searing it's way steadily deeper into my small back. I felt myself hit the worn brick road. Then I felt nothing. For a short while there was nothing but darkness and silence.

Then there was everything. The light of the July sun burned my eyes. The rough, hot ground below me made my skin burn. The feeling of clothes on my fragile body itched furiously. The  sound of footsteps and shouting was making my ears ring. Yet I stood. I forced myself to push off of the hot street and onto my bare feet.

As my eyes finally focused on the ground I saw the red smeared across the already red clay coloured bricks below me. I followed the trail of blood up my body until if finally stopped in the centre of my chest. I was suddenly very aware of the holes in my shirt. One in the middle of the blood stain and one directly behind it on my back. 

Then my eyes saw my mama laying in front of me. She looked like she was sleeping, so I didnt say anything. She was always cranky when she was woken up from naps.

I slowly turned back to the very shocked men, as if to ask them what was happening.
One of them was already talking to a small box on his wrist and the others just looked at me with a range of emotions I was far to young to understand.

The man who was talking to the box yelled something to the others in a language I had yet to understand. They seemed to snap out of their haze and walk toward me. I tried to run but I was far to slow and weak to get very far. They fought me quickly and quickly restrained me. The rest is a blurr.

I was brought somewhere very cold. They all spoke the same language as the man with the box. They all looked very different from me as well. Their skin was very pale, it looked to me like they had never seen the sun. I was suddenly very conscious of my dark complexion. The men never seemed to mind. Thought that quickly turned out to be a bad thing.  They took me to a building made of all metal and locked me in a cold room. There was nothing but a small dirty cot in the far corner.

I quickly made my way over to it and pulled my still bare feet off of the freezing metal floors.

Then a new man came, he spoke my language, but had a thick accent. He told me I was very special so I had to come live here for a long time. He also told me he was going to run tests on me.
I didn't know what that truly ment until about 5 days later. The same man came again. He told me to call him Dr. Bancroft. He came with more men in those same dark uniforms and said that he was going to run his first test today; that I needed to get ready.