Ficly

Glass Room

I fought, sobbed, thrashed, and bit till I tasted blood; but none of my efforts were enough to hold back my restraints. My heart was pounding, I could feel the sweat dripping down my neck, hear the sounds of the machines humming somewhere out there on Earth. I pray that it can stay like this, that they won’t torture me with fears…with the Images. But in this place…prayers aren’t answered. The first thing I see is a see of bloody bodies sprawled along the grass in unnatural angles. (Just don’t look at them), I told myself, but I knew better. Face after face, flashed before my eyes, mother, father, sisters, and brothers, eyes staring out at me, unblinking. I screamed, fell to the ground completely disoriented, but the torture wasn’t over. I looked up, eyes dewy to a girl’s face teeth of knives. I could feel each blade tear through flesh and bone, till I could take no more, and I awoke, arms still held back, to white walls, in a glass room with no one but machines and needles…

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