I screamed as I woke up. Again. My brain continued to review the events which I wished was a nightmare.

But I knew that I really had been ripped apart.

And I was laying on the horrible white floor again! Same place I had woken up on the first time.

And then came the tears. I could still feel aches in the arm that had been ripped off and in my neck. My head still throbbed painfully.

That's when I lost it. I threw myself at the bars of my cell and screamed. My voice still refused to work. The bars didn't rattle and after a while, I became tired.

I curled into a ball on the hard floor and continued to cry myself asleep.

No dreams came.

I woke up to a voice. I opened my eyes, sleep still holding me in confinement, keeping me glued to the floor.

"SCP 6621. Wake up. We're going to do another trial."

The man with the trademark facial hair. "My name is Dr. Avery. I'm your trial manager. Are you hungry?"

The Dr. Avery man was getting under my skin for some reason. Maybe it was his short sentences. Maybe it was his lack of connection. No. How the HELL could he talk to me like that and act like he didn't just get me killed. And trials? You've got to be kidding. I'm not a lab rat. What are they going to feed me? Cheese?

Cheese. I was so hungry. I could eat cheese for days.

The prospect of food made me nod, my head bobbing up and down as if it was connected to a string.

Dr. Avery said, "Wait here."

After about a minute, a guard came in with a tray of food and opened the cell door. I rushed over and the guard flinched, dropping the tray and quickly whipping out his pistol. I held my hands up  and fell backward.

But I was so hungry that my eyes stayed on the food rather than the gun.

I was hardly aware of Dr. Avery instructing the guard to calm down and back away. I inched toward the food slowly, ignorant to the idea of how pitiful I must have looked, and reached toward the burger that lay in sections.

I put it together and stuffed it into my mouth.

When I was finished with the cheeseburger, pear, and bottle of water, my brain was functioning normally. When Dr. Avery came back to my cell, I pointed at his pen. He raised an eyebrow and asked me what I wanted. I made a squiggly writing gesture with my hand and the Doctor handed me the pen.

I wrote questions on the napkin they had gave me and showed it to Dr. Avery. He took the napkin and took a while to read my writing. He sighed when he was finished and sorted through some papers on his clipboard until he seemed to find what he was looking for and then came forward and sat on my bed.

"SCP 6621. Class: T-B-D. Name: Redacted. Age... Redacted. Year contained: Redacted. His eyes trailed over several lines on the paper he was reading. "That's all you need to know for now."

I had given up trying to use my voice, which seemed nonexistent at this point, but I was burning with questions.

"Follow me."

I understood this was a command, but I refused to be ordered around like a Dog. I wasn't going to die again if I didn't have to. I shook my head.

"No? You don't have a choice." Dr. Avery's voice softened and my rock hard dislike for him did the same. "I know you don't like this," he continued. "And personally, despite whatever you may believe, don't like this either. But we need you. No games. Please, just listen."

I'm going to be honest. I actually thought about listening to the Doctor for a second. But I'd rather not die of all things. I shook my head no once again.

The guard that was positioned by the door spoke. "We need this done, Avery. Not my orders. They belong to my superiors. Get him to the room."

I felt bad for Dr. Avery so I decided I was going to give him a chance. But I resolved that I wasn't going to die this time. I would fight to the best of my ability to prevent death. One time is enough.

I got to my feet and followed the Doctor.