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 I Am Dying, Right? 
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Hylian Swordsman
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Joined: Wed Jan 14, 2009 8:46 pm
Posts: 463
Location: Anor Londo
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Post I Am Dying, Right? • Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2011 3:04 am

This medicine is supposed to help me, make me stronger, but it merely kills me in the inside, wasting away my bones and veins, it's worse than the unknown disease that I carry. I don't know why I was a victim, what had I ever done to deserve it, but I know that I must face the facts and know that I may die any minute. I could feel it crawling under the skin, I want to just rip it all away, rip my skin off and let the blood flow out to cleanse me of the disease, but I am restrained by shortened nails, and a white room where I can't use anything to help in my insane, painful, and destructive path to cleanse myself.

I'm not treated humane anymore, I'm simply fed with simple foods pushed through a hole in the door, and I'm without a knife to eat with, nor a fork or even a spoon. I would feed with my hands, hiding in a corner just in case they would come in and take me for another tests, facing the door. My bed - plain with just a metal frame, mattress and a blanket would be on my side so I would have a better chance of not being dragged away to get the dreaded needles stuck into my skin, to inject a supposed cure to my sickness, but they are monsters to me, torturing me with the pain, no end. Why don't they just walk in and put a bullet between my eyes for Christ's sake? And I haven't been fed since two days ago, nor have I been dragged away for any medication tests. What was going on? Are they trying to see if I'd flush out the disease?

The door opens slowly, I wake-up juice out of the bed before running straight for the corner, pressing my back between it, sliding down, about to go fetal to give them a harder time to drag me away, but I simply see a man walk in without a mask or anything, a comforting smile on his face. I was shaking terribly, it was like I was in a structure right next to a TNT blast, eyes wide with fear. The man seemed innocent enough with straight, black hair that went down to his shoulders, a skinny structure, tan face with black, slit eyes. He seemed to be holding a board in his hands, one with examining papers of my current condition, looking at me slowly.

"Patient E-3532?" he asked, his voice calm and soothing, but I'm still wary of the man, though my insides seemed to be eating themselves away, turning into slush.

"What do you want? Are you here to cut me open and see what goes on under my skin? Go ahead, you monster! Just kill me already!" I yelled at him, pointing my finger accusingly as if he was the monster, he was the one personally putting me through hell, though all he did in reply was frown.

"No, no. I am not here to kill your, or dissect you. It took a while for us to find you… I guess they got you deformed worse than we had hoped."

"Wait, what the *Navi* are you talking about?" I demanded, looking at him with hopefully piercing eyes, to point out my pain, to show that I wanted it all to end.

"That day you were on that walk through the State Park when they proclaimed that a disease caused by bio terrorism, when they picked up and claimed that you were diseased after running two tests - well, they lied," the man said quite quickly, and it took me a second to realize what he was talking about.

"But… but… I'm sick! Don't you see that? Whatever happened there was REAL. And I was INFECTED," I protested, not believing what the man was saying.

"No, no. The medication they gave you. It was a test. You and sixteen others have been tested. Me and a few comrades just raided yesterday. Haven't you noticed the lack of food or people here to take you away?" the man asked, looking behind him.

That was the reason why! I thought they were testing me to see if I'd flush the disease out by not feeding me at all, or give me anymore medication. But then… They were injecting me with what?

"What were they giving me?" I asked, biting my lower lip with my teeth, scared.

"That's the problem, I have no clue. We killed all the guards, rounded up the scientists and demanded what was going on. They showed us to the sixteen other victims - three women, a couple separated, and the rest were men and boys. What we found was gruesome…" the man left off, as if not willing to tell me what had happened.

"What happened?" I asked, and I could feel inside that I didn't want to have the same symptoms as them, so then I wouldn't result the same as them. "… Did they die?"

"Yes, they died. I will not tell you. Have you had any earaches, or anything like that?" the man asked, and I shook my head.

"Alright then. How are you feeling?" the man interrogated, causing me to feel like I was sitting behind a desk with a FBI agent demanding to know certain facts, me sweating like crazy.

"I feel like I'm *Naving* being eaten away! My insides hurt! My veins, my bones!"

"That's not good. This is horrible. We moved the scientists somewhere else to be interrogated. We were able to get one thing out, and that's the name of what you've been injected. Q17. We have no clue on what the Q stands for, but as for the 17, it may have been to indicate that you're test subject 17. I think what they're doing is trying to make a perfect disease for future wars, so then we don't have to send troops into the country to play as cannon fodder," the man said, looking down at the notes, flipping page by page, inspecting for a hopeful cure. "What have they fed you?" he asked, looking up.

"Uhm… They've fed me… Uh…" I said, trying to recount. It came back slowly, my eyes turning to the man.

"Just some brown slop. Didn't taste good, and I presumed that there was nothing in there…" I said, the man nodding in reply.

"Maybe a certain thing makes you better. We'll have to look into it. Well, damn it, I feel like I'm being charged by a million men with javelins, I'm not even sure on what's going on anymore. All I know is that we've got sixteen bodies, a few drugs and a facility that's probably full of bio terrorist weapons. And what do I have? I have a little organization trying to show the government's true intentions, one that is being seen as a terrorist group every day," the man growled, turning away from me to rub his eyes, sighing.

"Wait, am I contagious?" I asked, looking at his back, to see that he wore a hoody with SLIPKNOT written onto it - another Slipknot fan, nice.

The man looked at me, laughing a bit. "If you were contagious, I wouldn't even be in this room right now," he said simply, and for once I felt like I had a chance, even if it's very small, but I would believe, I would hope.

Didn't realize I even still hd this. It's old, pobably around two orthree years. Left off at an abrupt end, and I'm thinking of continuing. Problem is, dunno what I should do for that. I'm open for any suggestions to make a sequel or not. If you've got an idea, just send me a PM, and next time I'm online, I'll read it.


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