Endless (3-3)

WICKED worker

Winter...

I was held in the pure white room. Already being tested like three times for something. The doctors still seem like there is something utterly wrong with me. I would say I feel fine but I would be lying. 

The feeling of dread and tiredness was weighing me down. I was tired, hungry, and overall fed up with everything. The doctors talk around me in hushed tones all the damn time and I am getting sick of it. 

When they hoarded us inside this horrid building, filled with doctors, high-tech equipment, and all this stuff that practically screamed WICKED from afar I was more or less out of it. Beaten up, right inside the wagon when they were getting us out, for as they put it 'rude behavior' towards my superiors. 

Yeah, superiors, right. What else do they have in this funny dictionary of theirs? They act as if they were some finer rase. Like they are more than us. They made us into something they look down on. They made us their experiments. Some lab rats that they keep torturing so they would feel better about doing something 'for the benefit of the people'. Bullshit innit? 

The bruised lip that I now possess is proof that they don't have in mind to treat us as the cure that we are supposed to be. They don't see us as the people that will save the planet. They see us as a source of their fame. Source of their profit. Nothing more, nothing less They don't care if all of us are sacrifice on this journey of finding the cure that might not even exist. And what happens when they run out of kids to torture? 

Dying for the greater good. As noble as it sounds I wouldn't risk the lives of all of these people that they collected here. If they have to sacrifice someone why not themselves? It is mainly their fault the virus had spread this much around the world. While they were busy playing scientists the world was crumbling under their eyes and they failed to notice. Or they didn't want to notice. 

Turning the blind eye towards the rest of the world and then saying how much they tried to help. Yes, that is the main goal of this organization. Isn't it funny how everyone tries to pretend that they are helping but really they are just killing people? 

The pure white door opened and once again some unfamiliar doctor made his way towards me. This one at least isn't carrying any syringes or IVs. If he did I would stick them through him. In one hour here I had lost more blood than in three years in the maze. Not even in those other facilities that we traveled through those six months did they take so much blood from me. 

The man in front of me held some look of sympathy when he stared at me. Something I had never see in the eyes of any WICKED worker so far. He seemed genuinely concerned about the state I was in. But still, the lab coat he wore was keeping me on the edge. 

"Hi," He tried approaching me with kindness. I gave him a wary look, looking him up and down. No barking orders yet? Are you sure? "I am Eddie," He introduced himself, sitting down on the chair in front of me. Was he expecting me to tell him my name? 

"In this facility, they call me Subject A13." I snapped rolling my eyes slightly. These embarrassing names are driving me crazy. We are real-life people.

"And what is your name?" The doctor...Eddie asked. Did he really care? Only WICKED workers that called me by my name were Ava and Janson. Oh and their new addition, Teresa. Can't wait to have an encounter with her, really. I am sure that the bruise I caused her last time is already healed. 

"Winter," I muttered. I don't really see anything bad on this particular person. So far he is not holding a gun or anything potentially dangerous and the information of my name can't benefit him in any way. 

"Nice name." He said with a smile. His dark green eyes reflecting the sharp light from the neon lights. Do these folks know that those neon lights are considered to be unhealthy? Just saying, we are in something that can be classified as a modern hospital, shouldn't they have human-friendly things here?