Warning: Very traumatizing for too many possible triggers to list.
What feels like years have passed by, it's only been a few months, only I think to myself.... Not every day I'm conscious, the only thing I can celebrate. Each day is counted by the removal of old blood from my stomach, from the changing of my feeding bags, the removal of crystals from their plaything, the farm that I have become. The doctor constantly tells me how proud they are, that I will have the greatest glory in the world, I can never scream back, only moans stuck in my throat, my dry throat that stops needing to be used.
The dripping never stops, I wish it would, it has almost become a part of me, the dripping, the warmth, the feeling on my stomach, the life that's drained out of another over me, to fuel something like a rock from space. The red crystals stop growing after a while, they seem to have to remove one of them that has taken all the ‘sustenance’ before more will grow. It takes a few days for each to reach its maximum size before they pluck it from me, the skin always seems to smooth over where it's pulled from. The nice doctor told me I healed well when the meteor hit… At least this proves it… that my body isn't entirely useless… not that I can do anything with it, strapped down like an anatomical training doll.
The ‘blood bags’ as the doctor sometimes refers to them as, he laughs as he says it. I can only cry for them, tell them I’m sorry over and over again in my mind, mumble the best I can with my quickly deteriorating throat, hoping they can see it as they stare forever down on me.
The doctor starts seeing that my skin is healing rapidly after the plucking out of crystals, he never cared before, but the amount of crystals are thinning, only so many are left, will I become another blood bag soon?... Can it please be over? please.
…
I wake up to the rolling in of an operating table, the same kind of table that I was on. It has a squeaky wheel that only frightens me further instead of adding comedic value, one that years ago I would have laughed at with my family surrounded by their love. The table contains a man, one I'd seen before, the first person that ‘donated’ to me… I didnt think they were still alive?... I can never forget their faces, each new face being added to the nightmares, their eyes always watching me from the void of darkness, they were the stars in my galaxy of despair.
I can only stare at them now, we are on the same level, their eyes unfocused but showing slight recognition. The doctor wanders to the middle of us, “Ahh you know each other, yes?! Good time! We have something special today!” The gleeful plastered smile is larger than usual, they get on their toes and twist the nozzle on the dripping tube, it has never stopped except for when changing ‘blood bags’ or taking out another crystal. This one doesn't seem like it's fully grown, I would know by now. Each day, resigned to observing it continuously, curious about it. It never seemed to try to hurt me by its nature, it only grew on the top of my skin, the blue crystals that grew outside when I was with the nice doctor didn't seem to grow here in the laboratory, only the red blood soaked ones enjoyed the becoming of something greater in the dark.
The man stares at me, I think it's funny, my brain distorted by the constant knowing of how horrifying everything is. I only know the name of the monster in the room, I never knew the names of any of the people that helped me, that died here with me while I slowly drowned in the blood lake that they made for me, that I continue to drown on day in and out with the dripping, always on my stomach, each one feeling like I’m being shot in the chest with a bullet. It's been another month now? Or maybe 2? It could have been a year and I wouldn't know, so many days a blurr… how many days have I been put under? How many days have I been conscious? It's just one continuous dripping nightmare of loneliness. Sometimes I think the doctor's sense of humor is funny, and I wish to rip out the feeding tube so that I can bleed like those that hover above me.
The doctor turns on his classical music again, humming to it as he brandishes a scalpel like a sword, making a passionate stroke across the middle of the man's stomach, he doesn't flinch or move or turn his head. He only looks at me, as I can only look at him. The doctor attaches something to their chest and I hear the cracking of bone as they strain against the man, now he seems to notice, although it could just be the sound coming from inside him. I can only stare at the man's eyes, the daze that he must see in mine, I can only be happy that the dripping has stopped, at least for a short while, even if it means this man is punished for my need to not feel. I can feel the hatred for myself as I realize if it meant this man dying. If I could stop the feeling of blood rushing over me and the endless dripping I would gladly give it, take their lives, rip them apart myself. I vomit, it sticks in my mouth, unable to leave my dry mouth, all the acid in my stomach has risen up, the build up of hatred fueled bile.
“Stupid child, it is just science! The world will change with what I am doing, it will become… perfection!” The doctor's eyes are strained, painful even, their plastered smile seeming more fake than usual. They force water into my mouth from a cup and let the mixture drip onto the floor.
They roughly pull the currently growing red crystal from my chest, it's the size of a golf ball, it has a flat side, the one that had grown into my skin, it comes away with some skin, I can only scream in my head. The doctor leans over the man, putting their hand deep into their chest, seeming to find the perfect spot to put the crystal. They start mumbling again, “Put it in the sweet spot, just like it says, become one with the heart, grow big and strong for papa, become whole, beautiful perfection…” He pulls out his hand and gets a seat, starts humming along to his music again, tapping his foot anxiously against the ground, I can barely see the open chest, the edges of the bone that has been cracked and flesh torn.
It takes an hour. The doctor has started to fall asleep in their chair. I notice it first, in the eyes of the man, his pupils have expanded, beyond their iris, a deep void, red dots staining the perfect darkness. They still stare at me, or through me, I don't think they can see anymore. The daze is gone, they mutter something with what little will they have left, I can't hear it from where I am.
The doctor has woken up and is leaning down, listening to the endless mutterings of the man stuck in the void, he nods multiple times and eventually straightens themselves up they whisper something that frightens me more than anything I've seen, “Your will be done” who what?!? They no longer seem to notice me, they just sit back on the seat, the pale look in their eyes as they stare into the chest of the man.
Hours pass again, the man groans and their pupils seem to cover the rest of their eyes, becoming completely black with the same red tinge. No white is left in their eyes, are they even still breathing, at least they stopped mumbling… but all I can do is watch. And watch I did, as finally something changed. I noticed due to the doctor sitting up further in their seat, their eyes filled with marvel, the red gem had grown out of the man's chest, a tree-like stump slowly emerges from the opening, the guard immediately yells outside the laboratory.
The guards enter and all freeze, whatever this is, is not something they were trained for, the tree stump continues to grow and the doctor yells at them instructions. I look one more time in the eyes of the man on the operating table, he smiles back at me, that terrible smile. The doctor and some of the soldiers take the man down to the basement, I hear the opening of doors and eventually that squeaking wheel comes to a stop not too far away, before a mechanical groan seems to emanate below the white room, my room. I can hear people talking below me through the vents, the remaining soldiers are looking at each other in fear, they have had to help hang the ‘blood bags’ each time, and then take them down again, but this is something else. I can't tell what they are thinking but I can see it in their faces, with all the atrocities you've done and witnessed, even taking a child and letting him be experimented on and this is what makes you afraid of the world?... I guess everyone’s different, I'm just numb to it all now… will I become such a thing? Maybe the last crystal I grow will instead be pushed inside me?... a fitting end for someone so full of hatred, poetic almost… will I smile like that in the end? I shiver hoping for and against such a thing.
…
The screams of the people being brought in week by week, they haunt me. I can feel them die, the sounds of ripping flesh float up through the floor and into me. Fuel for the thing that grows below me, that tries to invade my mind while I sleep, talks to me, telling me to give up my humanity. It's not much longer now, getting closer and closer.
The doctor… if I can call them that anymore, a hollow shell, not having slept in weeks, their skin tearing away as they try and rub what's left of their eyes, to try and see better, their pupils have expanded like the man did, what was it doing to him… I almost pity the man, if he didn't sit by my side most nights and talk at me, talk about the future, how beautiful it will be, how I will be a part of it, a sacrifice for the best ending. I no longer fear the ‘doctor’; he is just a puppet, something pulls his strings, the thing in the basement. They ran out of people to take down to the basement, 2 of the younger soldiers were sacrificed, with promises that they were the last pieces, I saw over 20 people pass by me, the ‘blood bags’ that supplied themselves to me, heavily drugged, unable to fight back.
The doctor spoke to me, again and again, sometimes in whispers, telling me things,, that the soldiers were not quick enough, some of the people died after giving me blood, they told me that it's okay, that the master would make them co-operate, he was in charge, the government had no control anymore, only the master would be in control, as long as it took it would happen, as long as people wanted the power he could provide.
…
Each night I feel the voices of comfort, of a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a friend. The voices morph constantly trying to find a way into my mind. I don't want to live, but I want to die as myself. Everytime it talks to me that's all I ask of it, please kill me, just let it end, if you can do that you can have me, but just let it end.
It rebukes my ending, constantly tells me about all the good I will do, visions, horrific visions always flashing through my mind. I can't wait for this trip to the basement, now it can end.
I'm the last one left, the doctor is skin and bones, but he's surprisingly strong. He picks up my corpse and carries me through the doors. 3 soldiers were left after the first 2 were… brought below, which turned into 2 left, now only 1 was left behind. The one that took me at the medical facility, he barely notices us moving down to the basement, he leans against the door looking out of the laboratory, slowly smoking a cigarette, another moving corpse.
We get to the bottom of the basement and its majestic appearance is revealed. Its roots split into 12, perfectly aligned, a circular root loops around them all creating a never ending circle, it stretches up into 6 smaller branches that curve towards the ceiling, another 6 push outwards, perfectly in line with its roots, 3 branches on each corner coming from 2 of the outward branches push into the sky and curve to make a dome. 12, 12 and 12, in the center of a dome is a blocky pedestal, curved indentations like musical notes line the sides. The tree encompasses the whole basement almost touching the ceiling, 2 meters wide and 6 meters tall. All red crystal, not a blemish seen on its perfect surface.
The magnificence of the thing is only destroyed by the amount of bodies littering the floor, pierced through the branches and stacked against it. The ones on the floor were cut open so as to supply it with sustenance, it grew into and through them as it moved perfectly through existence. Nothing would stop it, not bone or muscles or flesh.
Those on the ground were put first, fertilizer to grow the branches, they were older, then the smaller first 6 curved up branches. Some of the bodies had fallen off, discarded. The higher 6, the chest of the bodies were pushed through, agonizingly, where the worst of the screams must have come from. Most of those were of the soldiers, stripped of their jackets to make it easier to become one with it.
“The final seat is left for you, it tells me it can't be forced, only accepted, this is a great honor!!!'' I can see the greed in his eyes, the doctor is nothing, just a puppet thrown away by its master. From the start I was special to it, not just another body. Why did they want me?! I'm nothing. Less than nothing. It screams in my head, tries to convince me as I sink into myself, the eyes in the room staring at me to make a decision.
BANGBANG Gunshots reverberate from upstairs. The ‘doctor’ or what's left of them, looks at me and starts screaming “BECOME ONE WITH THEM OR MY WHOLE LIFE'S WORK IS FOR NOTHING!” They pull at me getting me to my feet and start to try to drag me over, I try to move my body and feel my muscles screaming back at me, I swing out with my fist the best I can, catching them on the chin. Stumbling, the ‘doctor’ falls backwards over one of the bodies on the floor.
They look down at their chest, disbelief turning into happiness, one of the smaller branches emerges from them, they look at me with thanks, they have become one with their master, they can finally die, even if their goals were not reached, this might as well be their good end. They smile at me. I can only stare back.
The door opens up above me and I barely notice as hands wrap around me, safe hands.
The last thing I see is one of the people in white vomiting, a symbol of closed eyes around a snake on their clothes, their body and head completely wrapped.
The last thing I hear is an explosion as I'm pulled up the stairs, screaming pain from the monster in my brain.
I'm still alive…?
Should I be...
The Lilia that existed here is swallowed up by the white room. Confined as a nightmare, a memory of another life, wished unlived. The broken part of me. The corpse in the dark.
Will I be remembered?
TFTC!
I.. REALLY need some good chapters after this one.
..
Wahh I know I'm sorryy it's getting close to the fluffyness lol