That thought dwelled on me while I was in the cage. I was left alone to cry my tears for three days, otherwised silent. I was treated like an animal, given one meal a day, and it was usually one of those crappy milatary meals. I was often given a sleeping pill, because my crying got annoying. They hated it when I cryed. Water was always in a dog dish in the cage, and it was always refilled when I woke up.
After those three days, I had that feeling again. Communication was a burden. I learned, at the Industry, talking as little as possible was a virtue, and strongly inforced. The less you talked, the more they liked you. Each word was to be chosen with care, and had to be meaningful. When you learned how to do this, you would slowly begin to be accepted into life at the Industry.
I was let out of my cage on the third day. The feeling of my feet on the ground felt weird, I swayed back and forth, back and forth. The air was scented of metal and blood along with anthestetics and poison. I smile, but remember to let no words out of my mouth. I look up to the man who set me free-- and I frown. It is a man, significantly taller than my seventeen year old self, with black shades, a white fedora and a white bandana covering his mouth and nose. I remember this man..his name is Burner. He is my friend. "Burner!" I exclaim. I am soon shoved into a dark closet I have not seen before. Being pushed against the wall and pinned down, I let out a squeal of intense shock. "W-What are you-" His iron hard fist slams into my gut and I fall to the ground, his foot making contact with my rib cage in a burning pain multiple times. He grunts, possibly unhappy I'm conscious..or alive. I want to go unconscious..I want to. But that voice in my head refuses to give up. That is, until his dress shoes slam down on my face-- and the world becomes an empty, dark oblivion. My last thought- was it a mistake?
