World of Mind

        I wake up in a white room, with white walls, white furniture and a white bad, to which I am tightly strapped to. My hands and feet are numb from my circulation being cut off. The pure color of the room is deceiving. I am in no holy place. I am in Hell. The only true reflection of where I am lies in the one way one way glass to my side that which I stare into, and something else stares back. I don’t know what or who, but I sense a presence. I stare intently into and past the mirror trying to figure out who is at the other end, but I know it’s no use. I just end up staring back at myself. The first time I’ve seen myself in 8 months.

        My once long brown hair was hacked off 8 months ago, when they sent me to prison, and has grown back uneven and now sits just above my shoulders. My eyes look tired with an obvious sadness. I am unusually clean. Cleaner than I have been in quite some time. I feel like the past 8 months have been washed away and now I lie here, cleansed.

            The last I remember before waking up in this unholy room, smelling of lemons and cleaner, was being in Texas state prison for theft. You see, times are rough, and my family and I are not rich. We could not afford any food and were starving. My mother lay sick in bed with hollowed eyes, green skin and an empty stomach. My sister lay beside her for comfort. Her small hands brushing away the hair that fell into Mom’s eyes and her sweet voice singing lullabies. We were sick, hungry and poor. I did what I had to do for my family to survive and I got caught. Since we are poor, we couldn’t afford bail and I was sent to prison for a year. 5 months later I receive news that a deadly plague has broken out among citizens. “Is that what Mom had?” I asked the officer who told me about the plague. He didn’t answer. 3 months later the evacuation bell goes off and we’re herded into the fenced court yard. Next thing you know we’re getting shot at. Prisoners start dropping like flies all around me. I’m being pushed and shoved, stepped all over. The last thing I felt before ending up here was a jolt of pain in the right side of my neck. I realize now it must have been a tranquilizer dart.

            The door across the room opens and I am sent out of my daze. I do not recognize the man and woman who enter. They are dressed in white lab coats.

“Hello, Rayna Shaw.” The woman pipes up. She waits for me to reply, but I refuse to speak, so she continues, “I realize that you must have many questions, but first, let me introduce myself. I’m Dr. Collins, and this,” she gestures to the man, “is Dr. Syd.” He lifts his head up from his clip board for a second to smile at me, and then goes back to writing down notes. “We will be conducting some… procedures, which you will take part in. It—”

“What if I don’t want to take part in whatever it is you’re doing?” I interrupt.

“Pardon?” Dr. Collins asks. Obviously taken aback by my question.

“I don’t want to be a part of it.” I state. I will not take part, unwillingly, in whatever experiment they are conducting. Is it really that hard to get?

“You’ll agree when I tell you it’s for—”

“IT’s for what? Science? A cure?” Both her and Dr. Syd look at me, dumbfounded. “You think I don’t know what’s going on out there? The plague that’s killing thousands after thousands.” They look at each other searching for something to say, an answer. “Why would I even want to take part in an experiment—”