Number 394

My name has been lost throughout the years I've been asleep.

I awoke in this lab not long ago, and was locked into this dull, white room.

The faint drip from a loose pipe in the ceiling is my only comfort here.

The men here tell me that I am the only survivor.

Of what, I'm not sure.

From what I've been told, the experiment they're performing is inhumane and brutal.

I am a coward, however.

I will not pursue questions and risk my life.

They would not listen, anyways.

Before I was locked away, I was given this thick journal, a pen and a list of events to write about.

There aren't many valid memories left in my head anymore, but I can try to write what I can.

The only real thing I know about this place currently is this:

I am number 394.