Wednesday, December 30, 2009


I breath in.
I've lived in this tank all my life. Just...stuck. Stuck in my own little world, my little world of green liquid... I can't even remember how long I've been alive, if you really want to call this living. But I do know that in that time, I've never been touched by another human being. Ever. Can you even comprehend that, not being touched, ever?
Of course not.
Ever since the very moment you came out of your mother's womb, you've been surround by people. even if you think you're alone, I guarantee you, there's someone nearby. But me? I'm not so lucky. I mean, father stops by sometimes, but he never speaks. He just checks the meters and leaves. He's always been like that, as far as I know... ever since the government asked him to create me--no, us--it's like he doesn't even know I'm here, that I could speak to him. I've seen him talk to brother and sister, but never me. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if he doesn't like me.
I close my eyes, because I can feel him enter the room and I think I'm supposed to be asleep now.
"Two," he says, because that's my name... Two. "I'm so sorry that I have to do this..."
I nod. I try to say "it's okay," but I can't. Because I live in a tank.
So father draws near and empties out the green liquid. I spit out the tube he has be breath from and step onto the floor. It's colder that I expected it to be. And as far as I can tell, it's concrete. Father guides me to the table where I lay down as he goes through some drawers. He walks over with a mask on his face and a knife in his hand. I try as hard as I can not to flinch or anything while he positions the knife to the socket of my arm. He brings it down and I can't help but scream.
Father sighs as he says "Well... that didn't work." And he tries what I assume is his backup plan. Again, I try as hard as I possibly can not to move while he brings his shaking hands to my neck, and then slams the knife into my chest.
All I feel is panic.
I'm panicking because there's now blood all over myself, the table, and father's lab coat. My blood. Gallons of it, too. I shut my eyes tightly as father carelessly walks back to the tank. I can feel my heart stop beating. The last words I hear is father saying "oh well." So I, the girl who doesn't even know how old she is, the girl who lives in a tank, the girl who had never spoken, the girl who had never touched another human being until only moments ago, draws to a close.
It's a happy ending though, because I'm no longer alone.