Broken

Doom

The days go on. The room becomes swarmed with people. People with suits, lab coats, and the people with the drugs. Then once they are all done, they leave me alone with my drug induced vision. My body has a constant supply of drugs.

They come in and test me. I could hear bits and pieces of the conversations. I can't tell if these sounds are real, bodily voices or my mind producing them. Everything is foggy. I cannot tell where reality and imaginary start and end.

I cannot get up anymore. My body collapses every time I try. They tell me I am fed twice a day. I have been here for three weeks. If I continue with this I might be returned to society. I try to believe them.

I cannot retain time. I do not know when night fall comes. I do not know when the sun comes into view. When I am tired, I fall asleep. I wake when I can feel the pain of what they have done to me and I need more drugs.

My body is numb to the pain. Numb to reason. Numb to thoughts. Numb to life. My life has already been gifted to the society. I am in their care. I am being drugged so I cannot feel anything they do to me. I have not died yet. I do not suffer anymore. I do not exist in the real world. I am only the society's play thing. They may do whatever they please with my body.

Escape was something that came to mind. Now, it is not necessary. I am living comfortably, I have food, and I have no worries. They treat me well. I have a few scars that they have caused, but scars tell a story.

I get to see my mom. The click of her heels bring me happiness. I could hear the other people's shoes, also. Some squeak, tap, clack, but my mom only clicks. Her clicks are comforting. She is constantly there for me. She is the only one I know here.

The teetering feeling of life and death fills me. The unknown of falling into something that you will never be able to come back from is exhilarating. I smile at the idea. My mind falls apart. The blood boils. I have to keep going. My body won't allow me to fall off of the cliff. The beauty of death that fills the river at the bottom cannot be mine at the moment.

I look at the walls. They are a shade of blue. It looks like a sea full of seaweed. The sky reflects upon it. I begin playing with a chain around my neck. I do not remember owning this. My fingers wrap around the locket. I love how the locket shines in the light. It glitters and glitters. I look at the engraving, DOOM, something that most fear and many accept.

I wonder the reason for it. Does doom come in many forms? Of many sizes and shapes? I wonder, does doom protect you?