Chapter Text
Shit, it hurt so bad-!
Your eyes shot open violently to a stinging, burning pain coming straight from your core. The bright, fluorescent lights of an examination room hit your eyes hard and fast, so fast that you shut them again, trying to block out the light from your sensitive irises.
.... An examination room? What the fuck?
Your eyes shot open again like you hadn't learned the first time, and while the light hurt, you quickly adjusted to your surroundings. Bright white walls that seemed to glow almost blue, overhead lights that blared right in your face, the whole room looked and felt like whoever built it had been in the dark all of their life. You moved to get up, until another realization hit you like a brick wall. You were completely tied down to the medical chair you were sat in, both your arms and legs bound with thick leather straps. At the very least, the chair wasn't horrifically uncomfortable, but everything was so, so cold. You tried yanking your arm out from the straps again, then your leg, both to no avail. Fixing your eyes on the blue and white tiled ground below you, you tried to focus on making it so the lights didn't burn into your eyes. Instead, your tears did, pricking at the corners of your eyes like molten metal, they seemed scalding hot to you when they trailed down your cheeks slowly, your vision going watery. Everything was too much and not enough suddenly, over- and under-stimulating in a way that made your shoulders and elbows and knees and ankles burn and tingle with some kind of unsatisfied pain.
Something - no, someone opened the door and you snapped your head up to stare over at it, blinking the tears out of your eyes as quickly as you could manage. It stood at about twice your height, a tall, shifting mass of pure shadow with a masklike face that seemed to be made of bone attached, a smile etched into its smooth, bright-white surface. It seemed to have two eyes, one half-shut, one wide, wide open, a white pupil in the center fixed on you, the black behind far darker than anything you'd seen before. It straightened up, clearing its throat before speaking in a low, quiet voice, which, despite both of those things, filled the room in a way that overwhelmed you more than you already had been overwhelmed.
I'M SURE YOU'RE WONDERING WHY EXACTLY YOU'RE HERE.
You nodded, keeping your mouth shut out of pure fear. It moved closer to you, the shadows shifting with every "step" it took. The lights dimmed a little as it advanced. You looked up at it with wide, shiny eyes resembling a deer's as it seemed to lean over, a hand materializing out of the air to reach for your chin and tilt it up a little bit as it - he? - got a good look at your features, almost studying them. It backed up again, another hand appearing, which he clasped within the other one.
RESEARCH ON YOUR SPECIES HAS BEEN VERY ... VERY HARD TO COME BY RECENTLY.
AS SUCH, SOMEONE HAS TO BE THE SUBJECT, DON'T YOU AGREE?*
Not knowing how to respond, you nodded again, a pit forming in your stomach.
THE ONLY ISSUE IS THAT SO, SO FEW CREATURES ARE WILLING.
That feeling only grew worse, a bad taste lingering on your tongue from its words.
SO I'M AFRAID THAT YOUR WILLINGNESS IN THIS SITUATION IS ... UNIMPORTANT.
The chair suddenly moved up and shifted to a fully upright position and your bindings tightened. It was as if you were bound to a wall instead of a chair now, your heartbeat quickening ever moment. It seemed to hear, getting close again to pat your head with shocking tenderness even as you shook. A series of mirrors shot out from the chair, reflecting every angle of you back at you. You stared at your reflection, your wide, panicked eyes staring back at you, and looked away from them, focusing on the Man(?) before you.
He was now putting gloves onto his floating hands, the blue latex snapping around the bone. It spoke again, its voice a little louder now.
MY NAME IS ▇▇▇▇▇, DOCTOR ▇▇▇▇▇, AND I BELIEVE WORKING ON YOU WILL BE A PLEASURE.
His smile widened much to your dismay, and the shaking of your hands only worsened when a large machine, similar in shape to a stand mixer but with much, much sharper implements made its way into your vision. It didn't move quite yet, but that didn't fix the feeling in any capacity. He stepped back a bit to adjust a few settings on the machine. It gave a small spin, its blades making a whirring sound that echoed in your head as they moved. The doctor walked back towards you, one hand coming close, very close, very very very close. You choked back a cry, unable to resist anything it would do to you right here and right now. The hand touched the center of your chest, pressing against a certain spot and it felt like a large weight was pressing down their suddenly, your mind blurring for a moment as your body suddenly seemed to concentrate all its substance right there.
The feeling stopped when he removed his hand. You felt like you could breathe again, but the sight of the doctor going back to the machine made the anxiety in your system kick back up. He pulled a pair of boxy, square glasses out of seemingly nowhere and set them on his face. The absurdity of the situation almost made you want to laugh, but glancing back at your reflection reminded you you were horrified as ever. He spoke again and your attention snapped to him -
NOW.
*DO NOT BE AFRAID. THIS PROCESS MAY HURT A LITTLE BIT, BUT IT IS NECESSARY TO MOVE FORWARD WITH TESTS.
The machine whirred again, and you finally managed to spit out words - "Is it.. really necessary?" You asked quickly, his pupil fixing on you.
YES.
The machine started up, its blades, curved in like large, sharp pliers spinning like a drill, advancing directly towards your chest. Your breath quickened and your heart beat and everything went quicker and quicker and quicker, the buzzing of the machine was loud, it filled the room and your ears and your body shook so hard, harder still -
The moment it touched your chest everything went silent and the world, besides you, blurred.
That was over in a moment when the blades pierced your skin and plunged into your chest, machine's appendage digging in and opening up like an arcade claw machine grabbing for a prize, until it found its prize.
Your whole body froze when it grabbed hold of what it had been searching for - your soul. The machine ceased its spinning now and begun slowly, slowly pulling the small, glowing red heart out of your chest. Once it was out, all you could do was stare at your soul held before you in a way you'd never seen it before. It was like the claws of the machine restricted your body as well - at least, that was how it felt, any pressure on the delicate thing stabbing into you a hundred times over. The machine retreated, holding your soul captive for a moment longer before the doctor had it dropped directly into his hand. He quickly covered it with both of his hands, another hand appearing to turn off the machine before he walked back over to you, your soul in his grasp and blood dripping down your chest. Looking back up into the mirrors, despite not remembering screaming nor crying, your face was wet, drool coming from the corner of your mouth and tears still cascading down your cheeks, a large gash in your chest now from the extraction, your fists balled up tight. The doctor grabbed your chin again with another hand, forcing you to look at him in his large, black eyes. He sighed.
YOU MUSTN'T SCREAM SO MUCH.
YOU WON'T DIE.
You wanted to scream again just for that, to yell out how you may not have died but by Gods it hurt, but you couldn't manage the words, not now, so you stayed quiet, tears still falling from your eyes in streams, as he released your soul from his grasp and let it float above his hands.
INTERESTING.
He glanced back at your chest.
IT DOESN'T SEEM TO WISH TO RETURN TO YOU.
A distant sound, almost like a laugh, reverberated from within his shadowy form. He grabbed your soul again and squeezed hard. Suddenly, an invisible pressure surrounded all sides of your body, pressing in hard in a way that hurt but didn't hurt, and didn't feel good either. He let go, pushing it into the palm of his hand, and poked at your soul with a finger, rubbing it slowly in circles. The chair you were in slowly began moving back into a sitting position, the feeling more pleasant than anything else now - and somehow, that was so much worse.
You tried so hard to squirm, to make yourself feel something that wasn't overwhelmingly good, and failed, another, harder rub of your soul sending a shiver through all of your body, warmth creeping into your face. It spread from your core to your face and down and between your legs, making you shake so much worse than you already were, the ache spreading through every single muscle and sinew of your comparatively small body, so frail before the doctor that toyed with your soul like it was nothing more than a useless plaything. Every poke you felt in every one of your limbs at once, straining your neck to tilt your head backwards and shut your eyes, anything to soothe that feeling, that wonderful feeling, so good even though all your tiny human brain could think of was how horribly bad it was.
He pressed his palms together, crushing your soul between them and you felt your own body being crushed between his hands, felt that pressure on top and under you, the press of bone much larger than you into your soft flesh like you were the one being squeezed -
And wordlessly, the doctor let go of your soul as if it were nothing and your bindings released suddenly. You fell out of the chair, your bare knees hitting the cold, hard tile ground. You gasped as you tried to find your balance on your hands and knees, looking back up at the doctor who was now screwing the lid onto a jar that contained your little red soul, glowing as bright as always. He walked back over to you, big black empty eyes boring into the back of your skull for a moment before gently, shockingly gently picking your body up, holding your back with one hand and your legs with the other. You could do nothing in the moment but go limp, and so you did, making it easy for him to carry you up, up, and out of the room into a long hallway. He began to speak in that same voice, a little quieter this time;
I SUPPOSE YOU'VE ALREADY DEDUCED YOU'LL BE HERE FOR QUITE A WHILE.
AS SUCH, I HAVE PROCURED SLEEPING QUARTERS FOR YOU.
Another hand appeared to push a door at the side of the hallway open, revealing a mostly empty room, painted all in too-light light blue, with one large bed in the corner with surprisingly nice-looking blankets. Other than the bed, though, there was a small closet of clothes that were all the same bluish off-white, a bedside table with a very, very plain lamp, a security camera in the room's corner, and a notebook with a black pen clipped on. He walked you over, setting you down on the large bed before turning to leave. Before he did, though, he glanced back at you to say one last thing;
SLEEP WELL, SUBJECT 01.
The door shut and the lock clicked into place - you threw away the idea of trying to escape quickly, knowing how fast you'd tire yourself out and get in worse trouble. Upon the doctor's absence, you became keenly aware of how wet you were in between your legs, dripping down your bare skin ... you chose not to pay that much mind. Slowly, slowly getting up, you headed to the closet, picking out a loose, white dress similar to a hospital gown - it'd do. You pulled it over your head and stared into the mirror attached to the closet, your own reflection seeming foreign in a place like this.
... You chose not to look at yourself anymore, opting instead to sit down on your bed and grab for the notebook and pen. In quick, messy handwriting, so different from your normal kind, you scrawled:
I want to die already
Frowning, you quickly scratched it out with the pen and set the journal back on your nightstand, deciding that it'd just make things worse. You turned to flick the lamp off and buried yourself under all your blankets, pulling them up to your neck like a little kid and staring at the ceiling, ignoring how the security camera's red light flicked on a bit after you'd been put down.
How could you be so calm at a time like this? There was nothing else to feel. Nothing else to do, no way to resist - that had been clear from the get-go.
As you closed your eyes, all you could hope for was a better tomorrow.