The Write Stuff (The Writing Thread)

[madface7]

   The alarm was blaring. Red flashing lights covered all over the facility. Four figures, holding syringes, darted past her as she struggled not to trip over her own tail. Her ears perked up, she managed to burst down the door to her lab. She was slowly losing her mind. She was not going to let her body become property of… of that thing. What had seemed like such a good idea, what had seemed like her creating something new, creating such a wonderful creation, her child- was being torn apart at the seams, as she froze in front of her lab table. 

Was she really going to try this? Was she really taking the easy way out? There must have been some other way- No, she thought. If she had tried to come up with a solution, eventually her child would take her mind- no, it wasn't her child. It wasn't human. It was a monster. So why couldn't she shake the feeling of guilt, trying to rid herself of this pestilence? 

It must be trying to get at her, she thought. It must be influencing her brain, pacifying her, gaining her trust- there is no other reason. But she still felt a slight tinge of doubt as she swept all her materials off her desk, as glass shatters and strange substances spill all over the floor. She reached for the two syringes on her desk- something in her mind was screaming at her to stop, but she could not listen. She had to pressure on. If she had to pay for her failure, so be it. She deserved it, anyway- leaving her friends behind, growing distant from everyone else; she distinctly remembered one of her acquaintances from childhood, she was her best friend… she apologized to her friend mentally, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she'd hear it. But this is now. Her only friend nowadays was Claire, and that had been thrown out the window ever since the experimental collision. Why did she have to tear herself away from everyone she loved? 

She swallowed and raised the syringe to the inside of her right elbow. The needle wobbled as she thrust it into the joint, almost wanting to yell out in pain. But she persisted. She pushed in the mixture and started to feel tired… but she was worried. She still felt that same lingering guilt, that same sadness for her child… Goddammit, it wasn't her child! Why did she keep repeating that in her head? Her child, her child, her child- 

“Get out,” she shouted, wanting nothing to do with the monster she had created. “Get out.” She raised the second syringe, fully intent on destroying her entire life if it meant getting away from it. “Get out.” She plunged it into her neck. “GET OUT.” She repeated this like a mantra, until everything started to get blurry… Her vision clouded, and the colors of the room seemed to simultaneously brighten and fade. Her mind started to draw to a blank. All she could remember is that she was regretful- she still felt the twinge of guilt over killing her child… maybe she should just give in to it all… 

And then it all went dark. 

Hours later, she woke up in the same room. She tried to remember something that happened before this… but there was nothing. In fact, all she could remember was her name, and also a lingering feeling of worry for her… what was she worried about?

 Her mind was fuzzy. Was she just born? Yes, that had to be it. Today is the date of her birth, of course. She stood up and her head started to hurt piercingly. 

Well, stay calm, she thought. Try to be happy. 

But she couldn't. Nothing would let her be happy. She couldn't feel anything. 

Maybe this is what it's like to be happy? She hadn't remembered being happy before. This must be it. 

She then tried to giggle. She sounded happy, so she must be happy. This is what happiness is like! 

…But there was nothing there. She felt nothing. Deep down, she knew she was lying to herself. She was never happy. But her brain was so fuzzy and it was hard to think… 

…thinking hurt. It hurt for her to think. Maybe that was keeping her from being happy? She had to stop thinking rationally. She had to let everything go… 

…and she smiled. Was she truly happy? She didn't know. But at least she felt good. She felt comfortable. She felt safe. 

And that was all she needed, right?