Dawn Hollow

Prologue

Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!

He shot up from his restless slumber, bones aching from the tired soreness. The echoes of his tortured brothers and sisters rang in his ears, clouding his thoughts. Clasping his hands over the sounds, he tried to regain his conscious mind. The booming in his heart and the rush of adrenaline made it hard to focus. The room was shrinking. His lungs were shrinking. All the logic getting pushed away by his own helplessness. Flashes of broken memories held together by nothing but terror swayed over him. His legs gravitated to his chest while tears glistened down his cheeks. Opening his mouth, he unknowingly screamed.

They're coming. They're coming! THEY'RE COMING!

The boy lifted his head, the whole room going deadly still. The only thing that glided throughout the room was his naturally stained garnet eyes. All the crying turned the whites of his eyes into gross imperfections that bounced away from his pale complexion. But all that only added to his odd look as the hair that naturally draped down his back was a gleaming silver. Of course, it had only started to be that way because of the medicines that had been forced to be a part of his blood. Still, he couldn't remember how it originally was, and not recognizing that information really set into his mind just how long he had been stuck there for. Would he even know himself outside these walls? The thought choked him.

Again, his eyes became locked on the glass cell door that kept his personal prison tight. Despite the constantly flickering light of the room bringing much darkness to its surroundings, the padded white walls of his cell brought out brightness by comparison. But his focus was all on the door.

He could see the head scientist and his doctor walking by before he heard the sound of keys jingling. The lock to his door made noises. They were coming inside. A subtle scattering of white snake scales on both of his cheeks began to rise against his lining of freckles. All the tests, all the studies; his arms began throbbing from all of the shots, medication, and drugs he had endured. Everything at once was coming at him. And it was igniting something in him. Something he was struggling to hold back.

Get out. Get out!

"GET OUT!" He yelled as the door squeaked open, the two doctor's faces peeking inside. They stood their ground, the doctor having sympathy painted in her deep eyes while the scientist looked like nothing. The doctor he knew as Dr. Ella Clark. She was his therapist throughout the project. He knew she was just trying to do her job; collect her pay. But she never once batted an eye when everything got worse and for that he could never forgive her. But then again, she got worse too.

"Thirty-one, we heard you scream," Ella said calmly, her painted cherry nails gripping her clipboard. She had her long, mud-colored curls streaming down her back; her blush turtleneck wrinkled behind her white lab coat. The boy hissed at her, eyes buckling shut with a jump. "N-Now, calm down, Thirty-one. You know what happens when you lose your temper. Dr. Marston will give you the drug you don't like."

Immediately, the boy calmed down, hugging his knees tighter than before. He hated the drug; they constantly would pump it into his blood to make him 'behave.' He didn't know what was in it, but rumors would have it being an unbalanced mixture of cyanide and anesthesia. Still, because of his unique genetic makeup, it didn't kill him no matter how much he wished it did.

Ella smiled, sitting next to him on the thick mattress. She looked over the clipboard, flipping papers back to gaze at others. The sounds of the documents were driving him deeper into the spiral of his mind. Every day made him that much more anxious. Every day was another day in a never-ending nightmare. It made his skin crawl. After a while, she set the clipboard down and looked the boy in his uncertain eyes.

"Alright, Thirty-one. You've been doing great in your tests so far. Dr. Marston is very pleased," Ella stated in a honeyed voice, "You've come so far in ten years from when you first started. Your illness is almost gone! You're almost all better. And the doctor is so impressed that he thinks you're ready to meet the mayor of Dawn Hollow and show the town; the world, the future of modern medicine." Thirty-one looked down at his hands, seeing the scaly patterns that ran up and down his forearms. His fingers ran them like a track. They weren't always like this. He had his own flesh and blood once, and they took it away. His eyes sharpened.