They call me "Jane Doe."
They say it's because I won't tell them my real name, that they were forced to allocate me a generic ID. The name is ironic, since there's nothing generic about me.
But they don't know that.
They could have given me any name, but there's a reason they chose "Jane Doe". I hear the whispers. They think of me as a little more than an unidentifiable, breathing corpse. That's how they treat me. They prod, they poke, they badger and tweak. All of them want to coax a response from me. But their efforts are in vain.
Two years, six months, fourteen days, eleven hours land sixteen minutes. That's how long I've been experimented on, hour after hour, week after week.
They don't tell me much. It's all confidential, highly classified. But they did give me the rundown when i first arrived. They prettied it up and wrapped a bow around their words, selling a dream and not the nightmare I've been living.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers
Mystery / ThrillerFor two years, six months, fourteen days, eleven hours and sixteen minutes, Subject Six-Eight-Four-'Jane Doe'- has been locked away and experimented on, without uttering a single word. As Jane's resolve begins to crack under the influence of her ne...
