Of Monsters and Humanity: The Genesis

Chapter 15 - Xander

Fifty-seven days before....

"Well.... What was the last thing you remember?"

I laughed. "You're seriously so dumb."

The doctor who's name I didn't care to remember shook his balding head and tossed his papers on the control panel. His glasses landed atop of them as he looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't go out of his way to press the speaker button, but I could hear him groan loudly.

"Twenty-six," I sighed triumphantly as almost a "checkmate" and laid back with my hands behind my head. My back still killed from the experiment earlier in the day where they extracted my bone marrow. The gruesome process took ten hours because my body continuously healed itself over and over until they gave up and dubbed the stuff that they got enough to satisfy their needs. I reached down and rubbed my tailbone where the needles went in. Since I kept adapting to the ones they used to give me, they use these huge, long titanium needles now that my body and my conscious self hated.

"We've noticed that you've become increasingly agitated, Experiment X," the doctor tried once again, his glasses on his ambitious face again.

"And?" I pressed.

"We would like to get to the root of the problem and help you overcome these feelings," he continued, my sudden burst of not pushing him away seeming to give him hope that he could continue in whatever rehearsed thing he wanted to do here.

"What feelings?"

"That's exactly what we would like to know and work on together." His tone was slightly more optimistic and I didn't like it.

I turned my head back to face forward at the Pit doors as I thought about how to word my next statement. "That bitch made me watch this documentary one time. It was a documentary on killer whales in captivity."

"Do you feel like that?" the doctor rushed out before I had time to continue.

I gave him a "really?" look. "A killer in captivity?" I mused.

His pale, pudgy face reddened.

I chuckled to myself and looked away from him.

"Killer whales go insane in captivity," he noted as if trying to stimulate a response from me.

"As do most beings," I agreed as if talking to a five-year-old. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt this sickly feeling rotating in my stomach that almost pained me. It was different than the ones I get when I'm actually sick; it was that feeling you get when you remember something that affected you.

That girl's face from a few nights ago.... It scared me to a point to where I couldn't sleep. I hadn't seen an expression like that in a long, long time and it honestly shook me. It was worse that I couldn't sleep normally, but when I had something to keep me up at night, it was almost like sleep was just something I'd never get. I was okay with that, because if I didn't sleep, I didn't see her face. And if I didn't see her face, I didn't have to think about how it made me feel. I was weak when I thought of it. I didn't need that.

"Do you feel as though you're going insane?" he asked quietly.

I just wanted to punch through the measly glass that separated us and pop his perfectly spherical head right off of his body. Of course I'm going fucking insane. I thought this guy was supposed to be some psychologist. They give me no interaction other than food, annoying doctors, and doctors who torture me. They parade me around like some kind of new animal or plant that they found. Balcom fucking named me after himself. What was I supposed to do around there other than keep my cynicism and smart-assery to prevent me from actually going insane? I guess it didn't work out very well since there was already a plan in place to kill myself. My body would turn to a mortal, human vessel and I would be gone--I wouldn't be in the Pit or in the building at all.

At this point, I wasn't even listening to him anymore.

To be honest, the thought of death scared me. I didn't do it before because not only was it terrifying, but I held hope. I thought I would get out. I expected my father or brothers to find me, or even try to communicate with me. I hadn't been outside in months and none of them even bothered to break me out or find me (or, at least to my knowledge they didn't).

A few days ago, there was no fear, and there was no hope.

A few days ago, I was ready to end it all. There was no problem, no issue. There was no reason for me to hold on and there were no feeling of something greater existing for me in this place. And I couldn't just escape.

And then there was her.

This fucking girl with this face that haunts me every night. Her eyes full of this same emotion that could only be defined as humanity blazed in my thoughts and picked up that hope I had abandoned on the floor and shoved it right back in my face. I felt my wall slip from my grasp as I saw her face and the feeling of weakness didn't come welcome to me.

I wanted to hold myself and continue on what I was doing before, but she came in and messed it up. She gave me this false sense of hope, similar to the one I felt when I was first captured. All I wanted to do was ignore her, but there was no escaping the flickering light of hope inside.